Page 25 of Overachiever
Oh god, the candles.
“Owen! Behind you!”
In his dramatic entrance, he managed to knock a towel onto a candle which is now turning to flames much larger than I would’ve thought possible. What do they wash them in? Gasoline?
The smoke detector starts squealing, joined by the ear shattering wail of a fire alarm. Owen snatches the edge of the towel and flings it into the tub where it’s extinguished while I scramble to my feet.
A sharp banging on the door of the room is accompanied by shouts, and Owen steps out of the bathroom. I slide on the wet floor, and almost end up on my ass, but manage to recover enough to throw a towel around me before stumbling into the room behind him.
There’s no window in the bathroom but at the last second, I think to reach in and flip the switch to the exhaust fan on the ceiling. It’s too little too late, and the alarms continue to deafen us while the air slowly filters.
A maintenance man throws open the door and charges in, followed by the manager. The alarm must let them know what room was triggered. Owen shouts and gestures, trying to explain there’s no danger now, but they can’t hear us. Over and over they mouth the word “out” ushering us out into the parking lot. The fire alarm rings through the entire building so we’re quickly joined by…well…everyone.
Perfect.
When I planned this little adventure, I really hoped I’d get an opportunity to stand out in a motel parking lot in nothing but a towel. We wait outside the door for what feels like forever while they check out the bathroom and get the alarms shut off. No sooner than the blissful silence greets us, the whoop of a siren sounds behind us startles me, and red lights race across the façade of the building.
“Firetruck! Momma, look! It’s a firetruck!” a little boy yells, dancing around.
At least someone’s happy. I’ve never wanted to wander into a forest and never return more than I do in this moment.
The manager steps out of our room, and I do my best to explain. “I’m so sorry! A towel fell onto a candle, and we put it right out, but the alarms wouldn’t stop and—”
The manager is a guy who looks to be in his fifties, with a large belly and kind eyes. He takes one look at me wrapped in a towel, dripping water, and Owen trying his best not to look as drunk as he is, and laughs, shaking his head.
“Throw the damn candles out, understand? Drunks and fire don’t mix. There ain’t no damage done.” After both of us apologize again, he yells to the crowd that it’s a false alarm and everyone can go back inside. He walks over to talk with the firemen, and I practically dive back through the door, out of sight of the laughing faces of most of the work crew and a ton of strangers.
My hands shake when I sit on the edge of the bed. What just happened? One second I was dozing in the tub, and the next I’m manhandled, screamed at, assaulted by multiple sirens, and on display in a towel for the whole building.
Owen shuts the door behind him and leans against it with a sigh. “That was fun.”
When his gaze meets mine, I burst into giggles, and he does the same. “I’m going to clean up the bathroom.”
While I’m rinsing the tub and mopping up the floor with the towels, I can hear Owen opening and closing drawers. When I return, he’s only wearing a pair of shorts, and my eyes are drawn to his tanned chest.
“Don’t look at me like that unless you plan to ride me like a…like a…oh no.” His eyes widen, and he darts into the bathroom where I hear him retch.
Of course. Fitting end to such a night.
As I’m grabbing him a bottle of water and a damp cloth, he yells, “Oh my god, I threw up a cigarette butt!”
For fuck’s sake.
“It was already in the toilet, you idiot. Here.”
Relief fills his face for a moment, and he laughs, taking the bottle of water. “I knew that.”
“Come on. Get in bed before you pass out.”
After stumbling over to brush his teeth and rinse with mouthwash, he makes it to the bed, and I climb in beside him. Days with Owen are never boring, I’ll give him that.
It’s quiet for a minute or two before I feel the bed shake. “So, how was your night?” he asks through a laugh.
The snort I let out sets us both off, and we lie there, laughing like two psychos, until we finally calm down. Owen wraps his arm around me, tucking me against his side. Exhausted, I snuggle into him and close my eyes.
It occurs to me that this is what it would be like to be in a relationship with Owen. Crazy one minute, sweet and comforting the next.
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