Page 90 of On His Mind

His eyes widen a little.

I whisper, “We need to buy time so that he’s not waiting for the bathroom.”

Percy nods. He gets into the tub, closes the curtain, and drops his clothes right outside the tub. I stare at the ground, wondering how the hell I’m going to get out of this mess.

His shower takes two minutes. I look around and realize he doesn’t have a towel. I open the closet door and find one. I throw it over the top for him. The towel disappears, and then he slides the curtain to the side.

The first thing I see is wet blonde hair and water dripping down his chest onto his abs. The towel he’s holding is low on his hips.

I blink frantically and then cover my eyes, turning around. I put a hand out as in to say sorry. He taps my shoulder, and I shuffle out of the way without looking at him. And then I realize I have to look at him — we can’t speak, the only way to communicate is our body language — so I turn around, and I’m sorry I did, because I forget for a second what I was even trying to say to him.

Then he opens the door, and I hold my breath.

He lets the door fall open. He waves for me to walk across the hall. I tiptoe and jump into his room around the corner.

“Thank God,” Rowan says from the top of the stairs. I let myself slip into Percy’s closet.

“All yours,” Percy says.

“You’re cleaning the kitchen today.”

Percy must give him a nod because the bedroom door shuts and the lock clicks. Percy walks to the closet with a smirk on his face when he sees me in his clothes.

I inhale, trying hard not to look at his body. He puts a finger to his mouth and grabs a shirt off the hanger right next to me. He puts a shirt on, and I can finally concentrate on the real issue.

“That was close,” I mouth.

He nods.

“How am I going to leave?”

He shrugs.

I grab his shoulder and whisper in his ear, “Nobody leaves on Sunday?”

He shakes his head, looking deep into my eyes. “Sorry,” he whispers. He leans in to say something else to my ear. “I need to clean the kitchen and the living room. I’ll smuggle up food for you.”

I nod as he pulls back, a smile playing on my lips.

“There’s water on the desk.”

And then he’s gone, easing the door shut behind him. The stairs give under him, and thirty seconds later, there’s the low sound of his voice below me, and another voice over it, and a laugh. I can’t make out a word of any of it. I sit in the middle of a bed in a house I’ve spent a year and a half never going near, in a room I’m not allowed to be in, and listen to the muffled sound of the boys of Hawthorne, who apparently act more like a family than teammates. I pull my knees up. Then I get my phone out, because there’s nothing else to do, and I scroll.

After an hour, I sit up and look at the desk where Percy said there was water. I see his flask, but nothing else. I glance downat the floor, wondering if I stand up to grab it, if my weight will shift the boards. The sound will blow this entire cover. I stare at the flask for a few minutes, and then I attempt to grab it while kneeling at the edge of the bed. I reach the chair, but I have to carefully shift my weight or the chair will tip over. The flask is right out of reach, so I huff, sitting on my heels. I let my foot press down on the floor, and then I reach for the flask. I sigh of relief when I’m back on the bed with it. I take a long sip. The water is still cold. I drink it while I sit back and continue to scroll.

The voices hum through the floor, and I can smell the oil from sizzling bacon. But I can’t ever make out who’s saying what, so I put Love Island on my phone with the sound off and the captions on, because it’s Gianna’s favorite show and I’ve got nothing but time.

Percy comes back into the room in the middle of episode two. My heart swoops when the door opens. His eyes find mine, and he’s holding something, but I don’t notice because he looks well-rested.

He closes the door and whispers, “It’s cold. I’m sorry.”

I look at his hand. He’s got a plate of food. He sets it down right in front of me without a word — eggs, bacon, and toast.

“How?” I mouth.

He almost smiles.

I tilt my head, chest warm. I mouth, “Thank you.”