Page 7 of The Cabin

“Awesome, I’m just going to pack up my shower stuff and I’ll meet you back here in my truck in ten.”

“See you in ten!” I put on the most casual tone I can possibly muster, but all I hear is a bunch of squeaking in my own ears.

Yes, Sol, you know what we should do right now? Carpool and take a shower in the same vicinity as the man you just fantasized about while getting off.

What could possibly go wrong?

Chapter 4

I clutch my bag of hygiene items to my chest in a vice-like grip, hoping that if I don’t move a muscle, I won’t blurt out all my sins, turning the cab of Grayson’s truck into a catholic confessional. He, on the other hand, is relaxed, one hand on the steering wheel, one hanging out his open window. A country song croons softly from the radio and I almost lose my mind when I hear Grayson start to quietly hum along.

I know for a fact I am a gross garbage mess. I’ve been here four days without a shower (listen, it's essentially camping, grow up). So explain to me how this man who works so vigorously every day, who doesn’t have a working shower, still looks like a model?

When we finally arrive at the local YMCA, my body aches from clenching it so hard for so long. That’s what she said.

I digress.

A funny feeling trickles over me as I take in the old, slightly rundown building. The memories come racing back here too, some ones that I didn’t realize I even had. Cruz and I as toddlers splashing in the puddles of our mother’s shower run off, rainy days spent in the indoor pool playing Marco Polo. The building hasn’t changed at all, and I can’t help but smile when Grayson and I walk through the doors and it smells the same. A mixture of chlorine and overused gym socks. Sadly, that’s better than the cabin.

We sign in at the front desk and head towards the men’s and women’s locker rooms. As soon as we arrive, an old janitor smelling like cigarette smoke comes out of the door labeled, ‘Men’s.’

“Sorry, folks, the men’s locker room is out of order. You’ll have to both use the women’s,” he grunts, slapping a hand-written sign on the door.

I must have my confusion written all over my face because he adds, “You’re the only ones here, shouldn’t be a problem.” He walks back towards the entrance, a slight limp in his gait.

Okay, no biggie. This isn’t weird. I’ll be just fine.

Grayson holds the door open, gesturing for me to go inside. The room is barely bigger than my cabin, lockers lining the perimeter. I notice that the stall to the far left meant for private changing is missing its door.

Heading through a small hallway towards the shower area that I remember being towards the back somewhere, my stomach drops. There are four showers total, all of them sporting a completely see-through shower curtain.

“Wow, their budget must be enormous.” Grayson jokes from behind my shoulder, breath fanning my neck. I let out a strained chuckle. Why did I have to let him do dirty things to me in my brain? I am having such a hard freaking time being near him, and now we’re trapped in this weird ass women’s locker room with nowhere to hide.

We choose shower stalls next to each other and I lay out the things I’ll need on the tiled floor. Hanging my bag and towel on a hook outside the stall, I take a deep breath, very aware that I’m about to be naked in the same vicinity as the super hot dude I let bang me in my fantasy an hour ago while I touched myself. So casual, so cool.

I take my pants off, crossing my legs slightly, unsuccessfully trying to cover my… goods? No, um, private areas?

Okay, Sol. You can do this. He’s on the other side of the wall, no big deal. He can’t see anything from over there anyway. Although...neither can you...

Pulling my shirt over my head and shoving it unceremoniously into my bag, I turn the water on, grateful that it actually comes out hot. I’ve just barely put my face under the stream when I hear Grayson call over from his side of the dividing wall.

“My shower won’t turn on.”

“Did you turn the knob?”

“Gee! Why didn’t I think of that?” he retorts playfully, and I mentally roll my eyes.Sol, you are so effing dumb sometimes.

“Har har,” I yell back, and hear him pull back the curtain of his shower. He’s quiet for a few seconds, his feet making little slapping noises as he crosses the tile to the shower catty corner from mine.

“This one won’t turn on either.” A slight awkwardness has crept into his tone. I know why. That only leaves the shower directly across from me. Through my transparent curtain, I’d be able to see everything. And vice versa. Why would they design the showers to all face each other? Especially if their plan was to use clear shower curtains…?

I step back further into my stall as I watch Grayson try the final shower’s nozzle. He has a towel wrapped around his waist, and is determinedly not looking in my direction. Water comes pouring out of the shower head.

“I can just wait until you’re done,” he offers, still staring in the opposite direction. There are soap scum stains on both our curtains, but I can still see pretty clearly.

“No, it’s fine. I won’t peek.” I try to sound cool, calm, and collected. Like someone who is completely at ease when in a crisis. But inside I am wound extremely tight. I am ridiculously naked, pressed up against the far wall of my shower, trying not to stare at Grayson’s back dimples.

He chuckles, “Thanks.” His hands move to remove his towel and I twirl around so fast I get dizzy.Okay, peeping Tom, keep your eyes to yourself and don’t be weird.I can do that. I can be normal.

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