Page 16 of Glitter Rose
“Wouldn’t say no to either.”
I back toward the door, nearly tripping over my own feet. “Don’t go anywhere.”
“With this ankle?” He gestures at his wrapped foot. “Not much choice, princess.”
I slip out of the apartment. What the fuck is wrong withme? It’s been a year since I’ve touched another human, but I’m acting like I’ve never seen a half-naked man before.
The stairwell echoes with my footsteps as I descend. “So he’s hot. So what? He’s leaving in a day or three.”
My heart pounds from more than exertion, and I blame Knox’s bare chest for the extra beats.
Apartment 3D belongs—belonged—to Jacob, a finance bro with expensive taste and enviable abs he documented daily on Vibegrid. Left behind more designer clothes than any man should own. Perfect for my mission.
His door is still unlocked from my previous trips.
I head straight for the bedroom, bypassing the living room with its leather furniture and pretentious art books.
The walk-in closet smells faintly of cedar and cologne, with rows of button-downs still hanging neatly on wooden hangers, color-coded from light to dark. Knox would look good in those, but I doubt he would appreciate it.
“Let’s see… what would suit our wounded warrior?” I grab a soft black t-shirt, a pair of dark jeans, and joggers, along with boxers, some of them still in their packaging. “Jackpot.”
I fold everything, then add socks, a gray henley, and a brown leather jacket that looks about Knox’s size. Practical, but not tactical.
My eyes catch on the full-length mirror mounted on the closet door, and I freeze. Oh no. No wonder he looked amused. My hair sticks out in greasy clumps, yesterday’s glitter eyeshadow smeared in raccoon circles around my eyes, and blood, his blood, smudges my neck and top.
I look like I lost a fight with a blender.
“Fuck.”
I drop the clothes and try to smooth my hair with my fingers. It’s a lost cause. One year alone has dulled my vanity, but not erased it. I’ve never let anyone see me like this, not even before the apocalypse.
The bathroom yields a treasure trove of abandoned products. I splash some micellar water onto my face, scrubbing away the worst of the makeup with a towel. My hair gets a quick finger-comb, and I steal a spritz of Jacob’s cologne to mask the smell of sweat and fear.
“Better than nothing.” The girl in the mirror still looks feral, but at least she no longer resembles an extra from a zombie movie.
I grab toothpaste, a fresh toothbrush, razors, shaving cream, and deodorant from the medicine cabinet, stuffing them into a backpack from the closet with the clothes.
Back in the stairwell, I take a moment to breathe. What am I doing? Playing house with a stranger who’ll leave tomorrow? Setting myself up for another abandonment?
“It’s just clothes. And basic human decency. He’ll be gone, and I can accept that.”
The climb back up feels longer, my thoughts louder with each step. By the time I arrived at the penthouse level, I’ve convinced myself this is purely practical. He needs rest and clothes. I have access to both. End of story.
Knox looks up when I enter, his position on the couch unchanged except for a blanket now draped across his lap. His eyes track me as I approach, narrowing slightly as they scan my face. “You cleaned up.”
“Is that a problem?” I drop the backpack beside him. “Didn’t want to traumatize you further with my post-apocalyptic beauty regimen.”
“Not complaining.” His eyes linger on my face. “And you looked… fine.”
Fine?!
Who doesn’t love to be called ‘fine’?
I unzip the backpack, dumping clothes beside him. “Anyway. These might be a bit tight across the shoulders, but they should work.”
He rifles through the pile. “Who’d these belong to?”
“Jacob in 3D. Finance bro. Probably evacuated on a private helicopter while posting about his ‘authentic survival experience’ on Vibe. When it was still working.” I hand him the toothbrush. “Also threw in bathroom stuff. Figure you might want to feel human again.”
