The Temporary Roomie (It Happened in Nashville 2)

I peek through the crack in the closet door, trying to see if Jessie is still out there, just in time to see her grab the bottom hem of her shirt like she’s going to take it off. NO!! Oh God, please, no. This is awful now. I’ve waited in this damn closet way too long, and if she finds me after changing her clothes, she’s really going to think I’m screwed up in the head. I probably am.

I immediately turn around so my back is to the closet door. No chance will I have ‘peeping Tom’ weighing on my conscience as well as ‘closet stalker’. Please, please, please go into the bathroom.

She doesn’t. Her feet are drawing near the closet. WHAT DO I DO! There’s nowhere to go in here, nowhere to hide. My heart is pounding so hard I feel like I’m going to pass out, then suddenly, the doors to the closet open, and it fills with light.

The next sequence of events all happen within a one-second span and go something like this:

Jessie screams.

I turn around.

Her eyes go wide.

I notice she’s wearing nothing but a towel.

Her fist collides with my face.

Everything goes black.

“Drew, I am so, so sorry!” Jessie says, hovering beside me in the bathroom as I press a wad of tissue to my bleeding nose. She’s still only wearing a towel with her hair up in an adorable messy bun, and I find it all highly distracting.

Focus on the gushing blood and pain radiating through my right cheekbone.

“It’s alright, really,” I mumble through the toilet paper, still slightly out of it.

“I didn’t realize it was you! I was just freaked out when I opened my closet and found a man in there, and when you turned around, I reacted before I could think.” She smells like coconut. “I would have never punched you if I knew it was you.”

“Are you sure about that?” I say with a grin I instantly regret as pain shoots through my cheek.

She gives me a pitiful, remorseful look. “I’m serious! You annoy me, but I’ve never meant to cause you bodily harm!” I’ve never seen her like this—genuinely worried and upset.

I can’t help it. I reach out an arm and pull her up to me, giving her a consoling hug. But then when my hand wraps around her bare, warm shoulder, I remember she’s wearing absolutely nothing but a towel, and I quickly release her. “It’s my fault anyway.”

This seems to wake her up. Her sage eyes ignite, and she whacks my bicep. “Oh yeah! Why am I the one over here apologizing? You were the pervert lurking in my closet!”

I hold up a defensive finger. “Okay, first, not a pervert.”

“Says the man who stole my underwear once.”

Yeah, those incidences look bad when lined up side by side. “Only because it made sense in relation to your prank. And second, the moment I realized you were going to change clothes, I turned around! Third, it’s all Cooper’s fault. It was his idea to hide in your closet.” And I will never listen to him again. Clearly, he’s demented.

I think that towel must be working its way loose, because Jessie reaches up to clasp the ends closed.

“But WHY did Cooper tell you to hide in my closet?”

I groan because it sounds so ridiculous. I don’t even know why I thought it would be a good idea in the first place. You wanted her to kiss you. And that desire still stands. In fact, it’s growing stronger. That seed has taken root, and now it’s a vine wrapping around every thought, overtaking all of my rationality.

“I asked him for prank ideas, and he said popping out of a closet and scaring someone is the oldest in the book. I thought it was a funny idea until I was standing in there and realizing how creepy it was. And then, just as I was about to abort, you walked into the room. I couldn’t bring myself to scare you, and then I realized I had been in there too long to just stroll out without looking like the weirdest man ever, so I was going to wait it out until you went in the bathroom and then sneak back out.”

Jessie’s pink lips press together, and her shoulders are shaking. She’s laughing through her nose.

“Just let it out.” My voice sounds stupid with this toilet paper wad pressed to my nose.

And she does. Jessie laughs and laughs. At least she doesn’t want to punch me again. “You both are idiots. Are you kidding me? You thought hiding in a pregnant woman’s closet was a smart idea?! What if you scared the baby right out of me?”

“Not physically possible. But now that I know you’re a freaking MMA fighter, you better believe I’ll never cross you again. Where did you learn to punch like that anyway?”

Her bottom lip juts out and I realize she’s experiencing sympathy for me. SYMPATHY. Jessie, the woman who has claimed to hate me. It’s weird, but I’ll take it.