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fifteen

Chase

She’s in my apartment. I repeat, she’s in my apartment.

She arrived early; hence, my current state of undress. Although from her perusal of my body, I’m certainly glad she’s early.

Honestly, I didn’t think she would come over. But, I was prepared for her to show - just in case, and cooked dinner. Worst-case scenario, I would have leftovers. Best-case scenario, she would share a meal with me.

I won with the best case.

A timer goes off in the kitchen, and I pace myself back toward the space.

“It smells wonderful in here. What’s for dinner?” she asks, following me further into my place. She drops her purse on the dark marble of my countertop and sits down on the barstool.

“I failed to ask you about any allergies, or what you liked or didn’t like. So, I made something simple, a chicken quinoa bowl. I have avocados, asparagus, feta cheese, and cherry tomatoes to add separately, just in case any of those gave you icks.”

“I’m only allergic to amoxicillin. I’m not a huge fan of super spicy foods, but I can handle a small kick. My favorite food is Italian, but I will probably eat anything, at least just once.”

“What you’re telling me is that jalapeno peppers and habaneros are off the table?” I flip the serving spoon in my hand.

“It’s probably better if we skip those altogether.”

I put the food on plates from a large bowl, one for her, the other beside her on the counter, for me.

“Can you give me a minute? It’s probably in everyone’s best interest if I actually am dressed for dinner.” I apologize.

“That’s probably for the best.” She replies as I disappear down the hall.

I quickly put on a pair of jeans and grabbed a black Henley before returning to the kitchen.

I see her watching me out of the corner of my eye. I reach into the cabinet, grab two cups and plates, and then face her.

“What would you like to drink?” I ask.

“Well, what do you have to drink?”

“I have beer, wine, milk, green juice, orange juice, cranberry juice, apple juice, lemonade, pink lemonade, and Gatorade.”

“What flavor Gatorade?”

“Red and yellow.”

“Those aren’t flavors,” she points out.

“They are.” I nod.

“Do you have a thing for juice?”

Smiling, I looked at her.I never thought about it before. No one has ever questioned my preferences for beverages. But now that I’m presented with the question, I actually don’t have an actual answer.

I shrug. “I like juice.”

“You like juice?” she asks with a cute little smirk and a tilt of her head.

“I like to have options when I open my fridge. Water gets boring, and juice has nutrients.”

“I’ll have a beer. Wait, is it okay to have a beer? You’re probably training, and not drinking.” She rambles.

“I can have alcohol. I’m the boss of me. Besides, you’re right, juice doesn’t really go well with dinner. Beer it is.” I turn and grab a few beers out of the fridge, hand her one as I take my seat.

“You came,” I say simply after a moment.

“I did.” She replies, “Um, Chase, do you hear water?” she asks.

I take a beat and listen. I hear something rushing, but I can’t pinpoint where it’s coming from.

I hear water, though. I push the barstool back and stand.

Angling my head in different directions to figure out which direction I should go.

Skylar stands up and walks around the island.

I’m looking down at the floor, not seeing any puddles anywhere, as I walk through the kitchen.

I stop by the kitchen sink. I hear water running, but nothing definitive yet.

“What the hell! Um, Chase!” I hear Skylar calling from the hallway. “You’re going to want to see this.”

I walk down the short hallway toward the bathrooms and bedrooms. Praying that it’s nothing serious, but by the tone of her voice, I’m worried.

Water is everywhere in the hallway. I look around and see puddles coming from the bathroom.

I carefully step onto the wet floor and peer into the bathroom.

Sure enough, water is pooling across the bathroom tile.

I glance at every obvious location the water could come from, and note the sound of steady dripping filling the air.

I shake my head, hands on my hips, “This wasn’t here a minute ago.”

Skylar exhales a sharp breath as she steps past me. “Well, this puts a damper on the evening.”

I huff out a laugh. “You think?”

She shoots me a look before grabbing a few towels off the rack, tossing one at me.

We work quickly, throwing towels down and trying to push the water back toward the bathroom. The source of the leak, from the ceiling, dropping straight into the already overflowing tub.

“This is bad,” Skylar mutters, kneeling to press a towel against the puddle.

“Yeah, no kidding,” I say, wringing out a towel into the sink.“I think this is from the tankhouse that’s on the roof for the garden. This can’t be good.”

I look at her as she gets up. Seconds later, she loses her footing on the wet tile. In a flash, she’s falling backward, arms windmilling, too quick to prevent it.

“Whoa!” I drop the towel and reach for her, but all I do is break her fall as she crashes into me.

Water splashes everywhere as we hit the wet floor. Skylar gasps, her hands clutching my shirt, which is just as soaked as hers. She blinks, strands of damp hair sticking to her cheek.

For a second, we stare at one another, her breath warm against my skin, her chest rising and falling against mine. Then she groans, closes her eyes, and bangs her head against my chest. “Of course, I’d be the one to fall on my ass.”

I grin, my hands still braced on her waist. “If it makes you feel any better, you took me down with you.”

Her lips twitch as she lifts her head, and I am reminded of when I kissed her in the restaurant the other day. I help her sit up as she looks down at herself, her shirt clinging to her skin. “Great. Just great.”

I run my hand through my wet hair and get to my feet, offering her a hand. “Come on, let’s get you out of these clothes. I’ll put them in the dryer for you.”

She raises an eyebrow.

I roll my eyes. “I’m serious. I’ll get you a shirt to wear, maybe some shorts. Not that I don’t mind you wearing a wet shirt, but let’s put your stuff in the dryer and you can change into something of mine while your clothes dry.”

She sighs, finally placing her hand in mine. “If I find out this was some elaborate plot to get me in your clothes, I’m calling a plumber and making them flood your whole apartment.”

I smirk, leading her toward my bedroom. “Noted”