Page 281 of Coach
An Italian-laced groan was followed by, “Aim for the toilet. You’ll be fine. I promise.”
Aw, he promised. That was sweet.
So I aimed.
And missed.
I fired again . . . andmissed again.
By the time I was done peeing an entire bar out of my body, I’d made a complete mess of the tile around his toilet.
The door creaked open for Mateo to find me on my knees, scrubbing furiously with wads of toilet paper. The roll looked like a cat had decided to play and unspool as much as possible, but the pee disaster had been cleaned . . . mostly.
“I take it your aim is off tonight?” Mateo said through a smirk.
I looked up. He was so pretty. A tear dribbled down my cheek. Then another. Before I knew it, I was full-on ugly-crying on the floor of his bathroom.
Mateo was on the ground in a flash.
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
“I . . . Mateo . . . you’re so nice and sweet and handsome and . . . your accent makes me feel like Journey’s singing inside my chest.”
He stroked my hair and wiped a few tears from my face. “That sounds good, doesn’t it?”
I heaved. The tears were uncontrollable.
“Yeah, I guess, but Mateo . . . I did something terrible.”
His face sobered. “What’s that?”
“It’s really, really bad.”
“Just breathe,” he said with the gentleness of a parent. “What did you do?”
“I . . . I . . . oh, God.” I sobbed. “I peed on your floor.”
I doubled over, bawling like a baby.
Mateo, no longer sympathetic to my plight, fell onto his side and laughed harder than he had any time that night. His own tears fell freely as he gasped for breath.
“I tried to clean it up, but I think I used a lot of toilet paper. I’m so sorry, Matey. I’ll get you a fresh roll. I promise.”
I was trying to be nice, to apologize, to save what was left of my dignity, but Mateo only laughed harder, louder, his snorts echoing off the now-clean tiles.
Somehow, I recovered before he did, pushing myself to sit with my back against one wall while facing him. He looked up a few times, but each time he did, whatever he saw on my face had him howling all over again. I was glad I could make him happy, but the whole doubling over thing was—
“Shane, I have more toilet paper. It’s all right.” Mateo reached out and cupped my cheek, his eyes laden with tears. “Do you want some cookies now?”
Chapter 40
Mateo
Iwoke to warmth.
Sunlight crept through the slats of the blinds, casting soft stripes across my crimson comforter.
I blinked, my brain foggy from too little sleep and too much alcohol the night before. I rubbed my eyes, blinking a few times, then smacked my lips together to chase away the morning funk in my mouth. It didn’t help.
