Even the scent of his shower gel smells boujee, and I take extra-long. I wrap myself in the towel and then swipe his toothbrush, laughing because I’m pretty sure Mr. Fastidious would freak if he found out.
I glance down at the oversized shirt and baggy sweats covered in dog hair with little desire. My clothes left in the plastic bag are a lost cause. Even before the shooting, they’d been days past nasty. At this point, the sweat stains probably outnumbered the blood ones. I weigh my options.
I’ll break every finger on your right hand.
But borrowing is totally legit. I tuck the towel around me tighter, and then crack the bathroom door to make sure I’m in the clear. Borrowing’s totally legit, but it’s not like I want to ask permission or anything.
There’s a whirling sound in the kitchen
