38 Shower Thoughts

Hunter stood in the shower for a long time. He let the warm water flow over him as cold feelings ran deep in his gut.

Not so long ago, a girl at Saint Blaise's had told him that she loved him. They had been friends for a while and she was a nice girl, but Hunter hadn't been interested in her like that.

Her name was Bethany. She was beautiful: tall with long blonde hair and green eyes. She was smart and worldly. And it went without saying that she was a very rich girl.

He had pictured himself with her a few times, maybe even traveling with her on one of her extravagant summer trips to the Maldives or on one of those private islands that her parents owned, but he had never pictured himself introducing her to his parents.

Bethany had kissed him at a party and told him that she loved him. They had been drinking and dancing with their friends all night when she suddenly took him aside and told him her feelings. He had laughed at her then and told her to stop playing around. He thought she was just drunk and wanted to mess with him.

But Bethany had insisted that she was in love with Hunter. And he had waved her away, dismissing her entirely, blaming the alcohol for her confession. In his heart, he knew she was serious, but he didn't want the burden of having to take her feelings seriously.

They left the party separately. And while they still pretended to be friends around other people, their friendship had never really recovered.

Hunter thought about Bethany and that night at the party, many months ago. He hadn't expected her to say it and he had shut her down cruelly. He hadn't given much thought to his actions then: he just didn't want to be bothered.

But now that his own declaration of love for another had been rejected, he thought about Bethany and felt sorry for her. There was no fixing that relationship, and truth be told, he saw no need to be friends with her. Nonetheless, feeling his own rejection now, he understood why they couldn't be friends anymore, him and Bethany.

Hunter looked at his hands and saw that his fingertips had started to prune. He turned off the water and on impulse shook himself dry like a dog. He couldn't keep hiding in the shower anymore, he had to get out there and face his guest.

He toweled himself off slowly. He ran his hands over his wet hair and tried to make it look good. She was still out there. The least he could do was face her with some dignity. He smacked himself on the face with his two hands, forcing himself to focus.

[Be cool, man. Be cool. You got this. Just get in there and face her like a man,] he thought to himself.

He wrapped the towel around his waist and opened the bathroom door.

He had been in there for so long that the steam actually made its way out into the bedroom. It was like the god of the shower descended to the human realm in a warm ethereal mist.

He looked over at the bed and saw that Ash was sitting up, waiting for him.