Tears spring to my eyes as my hip radiates a sharp pain. I try to push them back, but a couple manage to escape. I look down and see a deep purple mark already forming. That’s going to leave a nasty bruise.
“Gwen!” Alexander’s deep voice calls frantically from the other side of the door. “Are you okay?”
My eyes widen when I see the doorknob jiggle, like he’s trying to open it. With me on my knees, buck naked.
“Yes,” I say loudly. “Don’t come in!” My voice cracks from the stupid tears that are still trying to make their way to the surface.
“What happened?” he demands.
“I slipped and fell and hit my hip.”
I can’t be sure, but I think he mutters “Fuck” before he says, “I’m coming in.”
“No!” I yell, then blurt, “I don’t have any clothes on!”
It’s quiet, and I wonder if he’s walked away. My eyes skid to the side, and I see my clothes sitting in the toilet, which reminds me I have nothing to wear.
“Alexander?” I ask, hoping he hasn’t left yet. I wince in pain when I slowly get to my feet.
“Still right here.”
“Umm… do you have any clothes I could borrow?” I ask. Even though he can’t see me, I squeeze my eyes closed in humiliation. “I… uh… sort of knocked mine in the toilet when I was trying to catch myself.” I inwardly groan. I feel so stupid right now. “And my other set are still in the dryer.”
My eyes narrow when I hear a rusty chuckle on the other side of the door.
“It’s not funny,” I mutter.
“It kind of is,” he replies. “Hang tight.”
I wrap the towel around me and tuck a corner between my breasts.
A minute later, he calls my name, and I crack open the door just wide enough to peek around the wood. If I wasn’t so embarrassed and in pain, I’d be captivated by the beautiful smirk lifting his lips on the unscarred side of his face. Smirks aren’t supposed to be beautiful. They’re normally supposed to piss people off, not stupefy them with their gorgeousness.
The look disappears when he sees the tears still swimming in my eyes. He steps up with a small pile of clothes in his hand, his eyes drawn down into a worried frown.
?
??Are you okay?” he asks again.
“It’s going to leave a nasty bruise, but I’ll manage.”
His eyes flicker back and forth between mine several times, before he thrusts the pile of clothes at me. Holding the towel tighter to my chest, I step to the side just enough to reach out for the clothes. For a second, his eyes land on the hand holding my towel before he clears his throat and looks down at the floor, then takes a step back.
“They’ll be big on you, but it’s the best I can do,” he mumbles, then turns on his heel and leaves the room.
My gaze follows him until he disappears. I close the bathroom door, then lean back against it, for some reason feeling flushed. A subtle woodsy smell has me looking down at the clothes clutched in my arms. Before I know what I’m doing, I bring them to my nose and take a whiff, then cringe when the action makes me feel like a weirdo.
I walk over to the toilet and fish out my soaked clothes, throwing them in the sink and thanking God there was no dirty business in the commode. After rinsing them out, just because I don’t want toilet water in them, I wring them out and set them back in the sink to grab when I leave the bathroom. Guess I’ll be washing another load tonight.
I hang the towel on the hook on the back of the door and grab the black sweatpants Alexander gave me to wear. He’s right, they are big on me. Not just in length, but in the waist as well. I have to roll them four times, making sure to avoid resting them against my bruised hip, before they’ll stay up, and even then, they’re on the verge of slipping down.
The dark gray V-neck T-shirt comes next. It’s huge as well and comes down to midthigh. I’m forced to wear it back further on my shoulders, or my cleavage will show. I turn to face the mirror and wrinkle my nose at the sight before me. I look ridiculous in this humongous outfit, but I can’t help but feel comfortable in it. The material is surprisingly soft against my skin.
Grabbing my brush from the emergency bag, I start on the tangles in my hair, then haphazardly throw it into a bun on top of my head. Packing the few things I used back in the bag, I nab the wet clothes from the sink and open the door. I come to an abrupt stop when I see Alexander sitting on the end of the bed. His head lifts and he stands.
He takes a step toward me, then stops. “I wanted to check on you.” He gestures to my hip with a tilt of his chin. “You mind if I take a look?”
“Umm… you really don’t have to do that. I’m sure it’s—”