Chapter 44 - The Naked Girl in the Bedroom (2/2)
Gabriel winces. ”Sorry, I'm too late.”
”It's okay,” she says, uncertain of how to address him after the earlier embarrassment. ”I'm sorry, too, for….For everything.”
”Don't say sorry. That was actually great—err, I mean, yeah, shit happens. Nothing to worry. At least you're fine now.”
”Yeah,” she nods.
Silence. They stand there, seemingly waiting for the other one to break the ice. Claire couldn't even meet his gaze.
”Shall we go to the spa now?” he says after a while.
”Sure. Can I go like this?”
”It's fine. They'll make you wear something like that, anyway.”
”Then how about you?”
”What about me?”
”Aren't you going with me? To the spa?”
”Ah, yes, yes,” he says, still a little distracted by his thoughts. ”Yes, I'm coming with you.”
”Then you should change clothes, too.”
”I, uhh…” Only then does Gabriel realize he's still wearing the suit from last night, when he had a scuffle with Jake. It's torn in places, and grimy. He looks like he just walked in from a war. ”Well, maybe I should change into something more appropriate, too.”
”Yes, you should,” Claire says, and points to the bedroom. ”There's still one clean bathrobe in there.”
””Absolutely,” he says. He holds the door—”Should I close this while I change, or…”
”By all means, close the door, Mister Gabriel Tan! Don't let me see you get nȧkėd. Because if you don,t, I'm not sure if I can stop myself…” Claire grins.
For a moment Gabriel doesn't catch the joke, then he laughs sheepishly. ”Yes, what was I thinking?” He closes the door gently.
Outside, Claire's bravado fizzles out the moment Gabriel is out of view. This performance is taking so much from her, as though she's expending too much energy just to keep up with all her conflicting, weird feelings. Behind that door, Gabriel would be nȧkėd, too. She could even picture it…No, Claire, stop! Stop being weird. You can't go on like this. Draw the line and never cross it.
But when the bedroom door opens and Gabriel comes out in a bathrobe, his shoulder-length hair tied in a ponytail, his muscles giving the fluffy bathrobe its distinct sėxiness, Claire's sense of boundary is blurred by the mad beatings of her heart.