Page 17 of Detour

He’s gone the next instant, leaving me to shuffle awkwardly on my feet. With his captivating presence absent, I look around properly. The oversized couch is accented with soft tan pillows at both ends with a matching chair sitting caddy corner. A large cherry coffee table decorated only with a fancy glass bowl on top takes up the middle of the welcoming space. Walking closer, I smirk noticing it’s full of beer caps. A little classy, a little trashy. In the corner is the badass sound system that’s kept me up with its thumping bass. I glare at it on principle as I plop down on the opposite end of the couch. An end table off to the side is piled high with electronic devices reminding me of Coty’s admission about their gadgets.

Coty returns with his laptop and extension cord, and after setting everything up, he stands, wiping his hands down his thighs. “I’ll leave you to it then. Beckett and I share a bathroom and we rotate who cleans it. Today’s my lucky day.” The extreme dip of his lips says otherwise.

“Thank you.” I finally manage to get some words out since entering his apartment. The next ones are as foreign on my tongue as escargot. “I appreciate your help.”

He smiles down at me kindly. “My pleasure.” He winks as a departing gift that might be more for my pleasure than his.

Trouble.

That wink is trouble.

My fingers, flying across the keys, halt every time I hear Coty dramatically gag from somewhere down the hall. Pressing my lips together, I type furiously until I finish with the last sentence. I send it off in the email he’d already opened for me, then sit here unsure. The shower started several minutes ago but Coty didn’t mention how much longer he’d be. Do I stay here until he’s done? Do I knock on the door to tell him I’m leaving? The thought of being just outside the door while Coty’s naked body lathers up inside has the temperature of the chilled room ratcheting up a few degrees.

I listen as the water runs, pulling my shirt away from my skin, wondering if the heat really did just kick on.

My imagination refuses to stay where I want it, traveling down the hall, past the bathroom door, right into the shower with Coty. Images filter in before I can stop them until suddenly, I’m burning up, with no release in sight. Not with Coty and me in opposite rooms anyway. Shit. That train of thought will only lead me, and Coty, to a dead end, so deciding to leave a note while he’s clearly indisposed, I stand from the couch, holding his laptop.

Somewhat reluctantly, I venture further into the hub of his home looking for the room Coty gestured to earlier. However, halfway down the hall a door opens, making me freeze in place. I was so caught up trying to ignore the shower being only a few steps away, I missed hearing the water turn off entirely. I’m about to apologize when Coty steps out wearing only a towel wrapped around his trim waist causing all coherent thoughts to flee on their own volition. My eyes, greedier than they’ve ever been, take in every small, and not so small, detail while Coty’s distracted. Momentarily busy brushing water from his beautifully jumbled hair, I take the scenic route by starting at his unguarded face and making my way down lower. Much lower.

Drops of water lazily roll down Coty’s perfectly sculpted abs and I don’t blame them one bit for their leisurely pace. I’d spend days lost in those valleys before even considering sending for a search party. I do feel sorry for the poor towel straining to cover the impressive package barely hidden just beneath though. And by feel sorry, I mean I vehemently wish the worthless barrier would fall to the floor. It’s called compassion. Or personal gain. Either way, it should be relieved of its duties immediately.

Coty finally notices me in all my awkward glory but doesn’t make a move other than planting his feet just outside the bathroom and pinning me with murky eyes. In this light they look darker. Less like mouthwatering sweet treats and more like bottomless pits I’m on the precipice of falling into—hard.

The laptop in my grasp becomes deadweight as I jiggle the device futilely. Coty watches me squirm, not offering to help me out of the precarious position I’ve put us in. Tense silence creeps across the confined space, reaching its unwanted hands up my jittery legs before settling on my overheated stomach.

I thrust it toward him, hoping he’ll take the hint but still, he doesn’t oblige, leaving my boneless arms to struggle with uncertainty. Coty’s gaze too intense, I drop mine to the floor, wondering if I could abandon the heavy machine there, but with a voice too hoarse for just coming from a steamy shower, he rasps, “Finished?”

My eyes collide with his. Finished? Whatever game we’ve got going on—the one filled with flirty looks and coy conversations—is more obvious the longer I stay suspended in this hall, unable to walk away as easily as I should, which is why I’m guessing we’ve only just begun. And watching Coty’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallows thickly, I can tell he’s thinking the same thing.

I need to leave. Now.

“I’m going.” I cringe, ready to slap my own forehead when Coty springs into action to finally take the laptop from my grasp, scowling like I’ve offended him.

“Did something happen? I didn’t think I took that long.” Now he swings his accusatory stare back toward the bathroom.

He wants answers that I can’t give him. I don’t even know what the hell I’m doing, let alone how to explain it. One minute I want to hide inside my apartment with the door locked to everyone, the next I’m staring Coty down like he’s my next great adventure. It’s fucked. I’m fucked. The only thing I do know is I can’t stay here with his towel looking more and more like my own personal invitation to explore.

Focusing my eyes on his tattoos, I open my mouth to speak but am cut off by the front door opening. Beckett and Marc file through, no doubt catching the tension lining their home.

“Oh, shit!” Beckett exclaims, not bothering with formalities. “What’s up, neighbor girl? I didn’t think you’d still be here.” Behind him, Marc holds up a thin stack of papers before placing them on the counter. “Did we interrupt something?” Beckett’s beaming smile doesn’t hold an ounce of remorse. Marc, however, pins Coty with an unreadable look.

Glancing over my shoulder, I realize Coty is closer than a moment ago, but he’s oblivious to his roommates. His eyes are glued to mine, frown still firmly in place.

“I, uh, need dinner. So, I’m going to leave. And go home. To eat.” Shit. I pick up my report on my way past, then throw out a vague thanks to the trio. Coty, for letting me crash his day off, Marc, for printing out my assignment, and Beckett, for unknowingly creating the diversion I desperately needed for an escape.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Where are you going? We just got here.”

Ignoring the big guy, I skirt around him in his dirty mechanic type outfit, heading straight for the door when Coty asks, “What are your plans for dinner?”

I spin, placing my back to the front door and narrow my eyes. My stuttering slew of verbal nonsense must’ve tipped him. His knowing grin confirms it.

“You got a hot date?” Beckett guffaws as Coty reels back like he’s been hit. “Coty, man, you did a shit job if she’s running off to someone else.”

Recovering quickly, Coty takes a menacing step toward a still chuckling Beckett, gritting out, “Fuck you.”

I take in the whole scene, my gaze landing on each of the roommates. Beckett inferring Coty couldn’t keep my attention, Coty threatening his absurdly tall best friend in nothing but a towel, Marc watching it play out like this is a normal occurrence. The strained moment is broken by my unexpected laughter. All eyes swing to me, surprised, which only makes me laugh harder. Everyone seems to realize what I’m seeing because they visibly relax, joining in my amusement.

Beckett gets ahold of himself first, asking, “Seriously, what are you doing tonight? We’re making fajitas using fresh tortillas Marc’s mom makes us. You gotta try ‘em.”