Wild Like Us (Like Us 8)

My heart rate goes haywire.

“I’m going to shut the door for her,” I tell him.

He nods, unfurling the sleeping mats.

And I head to the bathroom. Every footstep is a pound in my pulse.

8

SULLIVAN MEADOWS

“Hey, Sulli,” Akara calls from outside the motel bathroom. His footsteps stop near the door.

My joints stiffen, a disposable razor frozen in my hand. The grimy shower curtain conceals me from him. Steam cocooning me, I’ve been avoiding the sheets of scalding water that pound the tub at my feet. For five minutes, I tried adjusting the temperature with no success.

It’s still boil-my-fucking-skin-off hot.

Now everything suddenly feels catastrophically hotter. “Yeah?” I call back.

“I’m just closing this door.”

My stomach tanks.

What were you expecting, Sullivan?

Something hotter, fucking clearly.

“K,” I say, and I peek my head out of the shower curtain. But I’m too late to catch his expression. He shuts the door. Enclosing me in privacy that I’m surprised to be bummed about.

I like my privacy.

But lately, it’s been kind of lonely.

I shake the thoughts away.

Back to shaving. I forgot to pack a new razor, and the one I left in my toiletry kit is dull and sucks. My body hair grows back daily, especially on my legs and armpits, but sometimes I say, fuck this and don’t shave every single day.

I haven’t always taken the carefree route.

But I guess as I grow older, I just care less what people think of me. Sometimes I wish I could transport back to seventh grade and tell myself, “Don’t be sad if you’re teased for having hairy arms. It’s just hair, and kids are fucking cruel.”

With a swipe of the razor down my calf, I run my palm over my skin. Ugh, my legs still feel prickly.

“Fuck this,” I mutter and ditch the razor. About the same time I throw it beside my body wash, I notice a bug crawling on the tiles near my shoulder.

Fuck.

Fuck.

“Fuck,” I gasp and jerk into the scalding water. “Cum—fuck.” I wince at the stinging heat and edge backwards, but my wide eyes are on the black curled tail of a scorpion.

I hate scorpions.

My little sister, however, loves them. Winona adores every living, breathing creature—especially the amphibians. Tadpoles are her jam. Even though this is not a frog, my sisterly love surpasses my instincts. So I don’t wash a scorpion down the tub drain.

You’re an Olympian, Sullivan.

You can save a little ugly scorpion.

My hair wet on my collarbones, I whip open the shower curtain. Assessing. Okay, so a skinny window is slightly ajar above the sink. Big enough for the scorpion to meet freedom and nature. I can usher it there with…the shampoo bottle!

Grabbing my shampoo, I stand on the edge of the tub and create good bodily distance from this tiny, poisonous beast. It better not prefer the wonderful amenities of a motel bathroom. Complete with yellow-stained tiles and some type of mold growing out of the air vents.

I try to traffic control the scorpion, nudging him ever so slightly along the tile wall. “Come on, little guy. This way.”

He jumps!

What the fuck—I jerk back and grab hold of the shower curtain rod for balance.

The metal rod breaks off with barely any force.

I let go fast, catching my balance in a stance, but the rod and curtain tumble to the fucking floor with the loudest, most volatile crash.

“Sulli?!” Akara’s panicked shout sends shockwaves down my body—my really, really naked body. Footsteps sound just as quickly, and the bathroom door thrashes open.

I solidify. Standing tall and still naked on the edge of the tub.

Akara skids to a halt, eyes on…my eyes, then the window.

Banks slides into the bathroom behind him, realizes I’m in my birthday suit with a short glimpse, and then also eyes the window. “You alright?” he asks me, but I can’t read either of them beyond their concern.

Bodyguards.

They’re my fucking bodyguards, and of course they were worried about the window. They’re being professional—I shouldn’t be this disappointed, but fuck, they didn’t even inhale like wow, that’s a babe right there.

I’m starting to feel like the ugly little beast in their eyes.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Without stepping off the tub, I snatch my towel off the shut toilet lid and hold it up to my chest. “It’s secure. No one was trying to kidnap me.”

Banks picks up the rod and curtain, setting both in the corner. Akara rechecks the window.

“I was just dealing with an arachnid intruder. A scorpion is in here somewhere.” I step down—fuckfuckfuck, my foot slips on the slick tile.

With the shower still on, mist wets the floor without a curtain to block the spray, and I go down.

“Sulli.” Akara reaches out and pulls me further from the tub. So my head won’t meet the edge.

But his feet slide out from under him too.

Now we both go down. My ass hits the ground hard. Butt bone on fire, and the pain is dulled by two realizations.