A Clean Start
When his dad and Calista left, Nick walked over to the bed and unzipped the sturdy bag, pulling out some of his clothes and packing them over to the dresser, putting them away in drawers. He removed the charging cords for his iPod and cell phone, plugging them into the wall outlet under the transparent computer desk. Getting his phone and iPod, he connected each of them to the charging cords and laid the devices on the top of the computer desk.
After about twenty minutes, he had most of his clean clothes put away, the worn ones piled in a heap beside the door. Grabbing his 2 in 1 Old Spice body wash/shampoo, he wandered out of his room, easily finding the bathroom. A spacious room, with a tiled shower, enclosed by clear glass and equipped with a door. As Calista had said, there were maroon colored bath towels, hand towels, and face cloths hanging up on two separate towel bars. A large mirror spanned the breadth of space over a long fancy granite looking countertop with an inset sink and cabinet against the far wall.
Closing the bathroom door and pushing the handle in to lock it, he began to disrobe, dropping his dirty laundry on the floor near the door. Pausing to check out his reflection in the mirror, he brought his arms up and flexed. As an athlete, he was in very good shape, broad at the shoulder, narrow at the hip and well defined. Satisfied, he brought his arms down and leaned closer to the mirror to inspect the progress on his sparse facial hair. Frowning, he shook his head and picked up his bottle of body and hair soap. Next, he grabbed a towel, hanging it on the shower door before stepping in and turning on the taps to activate water spray from two different shower jets installed into the wall. Setting the red Old Spice bottle on the little shelf built into the shower wall, he stepped into the water. It was hot, pinking his pale skin as he put his hands up on the wall and lowered his head under the spray. It felt good to be getting clean, to wash away the grime of his lengthy trek across the country. Steam fogged out the glass partition enclosing the shower area. As he luxuriously cleaned himself he allowed himself to let go of his anger, if only for the moment.
Fingers pruning, he reluctantly turned the shower off before opening the door and stepping out, only to be instantly startled when he discovered there was a very attractive girl standing there, dressed only in a very skimpy two piece black bathing suit, the small triangles of fabric of the top barely covering the nipple area of large firm looking rounded breasts, while the bottom of the suit scarcely concealed the smooth swell of the mound below her navel.
She was tallish, 5’9”, hair very dark, eyes the same iridescent green as Calista. Her body was athletically lean like a swimmer and sporting a golden tan. There was the ghost of a smile on her plump lips, almost a smirk but not quite.
“You must be Nick, or perhaps the absolute worst burglar in all of Cali,” she said, rewarding him with a dazzling smile as her amazing eyes gave him the once over.
Her presence possessed such an impact it felt like the air had been sucked from his lungs. With only the towel between them, he suddenly felt very vulnerable and didn’t like it. Hadn’t he locked the door?
She lowered her eyes and chuckled, before looking up at him again through long dark lashes, “Nick?” she repeated.
“Ah,” he stammered, “yeah,” he answered, hurriedly wrapping the towel around his lean waist.
“Asha,” she said, smiling, stepping forward and extending her right hand.
Holding the towel secure in his left hand, he reached out clumsily with his right and shook her hand, the contact like an electric shock traveling up his arm before he released it.
Looking at his muscles chest then his ribs, she frowned, reaching out toward him and gently touching the lattice work of vivid white scars on his right side with the tips of fingers each ending in a brightly polished nail.
Stepping back, he turned his body away from her, embarrassed by the physical reminders of times he had cut into himself to try and deal with the maelstrom of shit in his head.
Moving passed her, he bent down to grab his dirty clothes before hastily leaving the bathroom and back down the hall to his room, shutting the door behind him with enough force to make a loud noise.
There had been many good looking girls back in Maple Grove, though he had never gone out with any them. He couldn’t be bothered to invest in the petty bullshit games. Asha had surprised him and caught him unaware, in a moment of exposure. She was certainly good looking, the very air around her seemed to shimmer in excitement at being in her proximity.
It should have come as no surprise how incredibly pretty the girl was considering how attractive her mother appeared.
How had she managed to get into the bathroom? He knew absolutely he had locked it, though that didn’t mean the lock actually worked. The more sobering thought that popped into his head was how long had she been there watching him? He shrugged. No sense getting tangled up over it now. Next time he would be better prepared.
Toweling himself dry, he tossed the used towel onto his pile of dirty clothes and walked over to the dresser, taking out a pair of white Fruit of the Loom underpants, blue jeans and a faded purple Minnesota Vikings t-shirt from the dresser and put them on.
There was a strong rapping on the bedroom door, “Hey sport, pizza is here if you want to come up and join us,” Marty said from behind the other side.
“I just got to throw on some socks,” Nicks answered loudly from the dresser, leaning against it to slide his left foot into a white sport sock.
“Okay see you in a few minutes then,” his dad replied, the sound of footsteps fading as the older man departed.
Putting on his other sock, he walked to his dirty clothes pile and picked up the pants he had been wearing earlier, fishing a black plastic comb out of the rear pocket and running it through his still damp hair, before sliding into the rear pocket of the jeans he was wearing and exiting the room.