5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

" N ice place."

Intent on accompanying me on the walk to Henry's, Shawn paid me the compliment as I strolled through my apartment to quickly dispose of my work bag.

For the longest time, the apartment didn't feel like my own. It still had Claire and Zoey's furnishings—the wooden, rectangular kitchen table that greeted you the moment you opened the door. The grey couch to the left. The beat up, green chair adjacent to it. Either of their mattresses and the bedframes that accompanied them—those were still in their bedrooms.

Claire's looked as if it were nearly untouched. Her bedding having been cleaned at the nearby laundromat long ago, I remade her bed as if it were anticipating her return home. I bought a handful of colorful throw pillows to add some life to her ivory comforter, the coral and blue tones reminiscent of a beach house, and her door remained closed. She wasn't returning, of course, because she lived upstairs with Luke in apartment 3C, but I still ensured that her room remained tidy and inviting.

Zoey's old room, however—my room—had changed drastically. The sight of the white eyelet lace on her bedding had been making me cringe, unwanted memories of our brief fling springing to my mind, and because I truly, truly no longer thought of Zoey in that way, I had decided to redecorate. I needed to redecorate. Months ago, when she had decided to continue living with Liam across the hall in 2B, she had offered to put her things in a storage unit. She and Claire had both done as such, but I insisted that their things remained because it would save them the trouble of storing them, and, of course, I no longer had furnishings of my own to speak of. Those had stayed with Allison…and I had no desire to go shopping for such things. So…yes—I redecorated.

With Zoey's approval, I painted her light wash, wooden headboard and matching side tables black. I folded up her sheets, stored them in Claire's old closet, and bought my own. The mix of sage and hunter green combined with grey pillows gave the room a much needed shift, and it became my own.

I briefly considered explaining to Shawn that it wasn't truly my place. That Claire had lived here with Zoey, they both split off to room with Luke and Liam, and that I had simply taken over once Allison had claimed rights to our house. Going into detail could have brought up questions about the murky past, though…and after a few months, it really did feel like home.

Therefore, I simply nodded at his comment, throwing him a smile as I set my work bag on the kitchen table.

"Thanks—I like it."

He asked, "You said it was a short walk from here?"

"Oh yeah. Super short," I told him as we both made headway for the door.

I allowed him to exit first, locked the deadbolt behind me, and as I slid my keys into my pocket, Shawn appeared to be amping up for battle. His shoulders bobbled from side to side as we lumbered down the steps, and the moment that we reached the sidewalk, he spoke up:

"Alright… let me get this straight."

Dusk upon us, the air was brisk, and the rock salt that was sprinkled along the cobblestones to aid in melting the sheet of ice from Monday's storm crunched beneath our feet.

I sighed. "There's not much to get straight, Brooks."

"It's a little unfathomable that no one—no one in your entire friend circle—knows that she's a—"

I interrupted, "Remember when I told you to keep your mouth shut?"

"The street's empty, Jay," Shawn stated, gesturing with an arm thrown out wide in front of us both. "I'm not gonna spill your secrets. Don't worry, I'll be a good boy."

He said it sarcastically, and I returned quickly, "Is that your fetish? Do I need to buy you a collar so you behave?"

Shawn snorted. "Hey, don't joke—I'm a very open-minded man. For all you know, I have a whole fuckin' closet filled with submissive shit."

"Okay, okay." I waved away his commentary. "Didn't intend to open Pandora's box. I'm not trying to picture you in leather."

"You are now, though, right?" His thick eyebrows bobbed up and down.

"Whatever makes you feel better at the end of the day," I quipped, swiftly redirecting to, "And no. No one knows. No one knows anything. They know I went to a strip club and nothing else…and they're not going to. I don't want Cassie any more pissed at me than she already is."

"Mmkay. And—"

"Stop," I interjected in a hushed tone. "There's not much else to know; we're here."

Shawn peeked upward to view the wooden, pinkish lettering overhead that read Henry's, and his head bobbed back in surprise.

"Huh—damn, that is close to your place."

"Yeah, yeah," I reached to open the door, and the bell dinged. "After you."

It was busier tonight—the dull murmur of voices was just loud enough to rise above the soft music in the background. Though the usual seats that our group occupied whilst Claire and Luke were tending the bar were empty, I didn't move to take them because we never sat at the counter when they were off the clock. It was the third furthest table from the entrance that we normally took. One edge of it butted up against the wall; we typically had two chairs on either side with a fifth at the table head—a sixth if Cassie joined us. Tonight, there were six—and Luke, Claire, Liam, and Zoey were all in their usual seats.

Luke caught my eye first as he was sat at one of the two chairs facing the entrance. He flashed me a surprised smile, gently elbowing Claire, who was on his left and lifting a short tumbler of clear liquid to her lips. She followed his gaze, quickly finished the sip of her drink, grinned at me, and threw me a wave. This alerted Liam and Zoey, who were sat directly across from them. Simultaneously moving their heads, Zoey smiled and waved similarly to how Claire had, and Liam ticked his head upward in acknowledgment of my arrival.

Though Shawn had walked in first, he trailed behind me as I led the way to the table, lingering just to my right when I stood beside my typical seat at the head next to Zoey.

"About time you showed up," Zoey remarked. "Out of sight since last week, what gives?"

"Busy," I lied succinctly. I wasn't busy. I was hiding away in my apartment for various reasons, all to do with Cassie. "Ah, Zoey, Liam, Claire, Luke." I pointed at each of them as I spoke their name and then gestured to Shawn. "Shawn Brooks. Brooks—everyone."

They all gave him a cheery greeting, Shawn waggled his fingers almost shyly, and Liam added:

"Grab another chair, Cas is comin'."

The mention of her name sent a nervous jolt through me, and I attempted to conceal my reaction by nodding and searching the nearby space for a spare chair. Shawn found one before I did, asking the women at the table just behind Luke and Claire if the empty seat was taken. They kindly told him that it was free, and we shuffled the seats just enough to allow room for him to sit between me and Zoey.

We sat, and Shawn pointed at Luke. "Brother?"

He smiled in return. "Uh huh. How do you know Jay? "

Luke began to lift a pale beer to his mouth, and Shawn happily stated, "Work."

Luke's light eyes narrowed mid-sip, and his head turned to me as he set his glass down.

"Is this the guy?"

"Oh God," Shawn cringed. "Am I the guy?"

I knew without further inquiry that Luke was questioning if Shawn was the work friend who had invited me to Gas Lamp.

"Yup."

He ground his teeth at my acknowledgment, and his judgmental gaze whipped to Shawn.

Shawn leaned backward under Luke's wordless scrutinizing, asking, "What did I do?"

"You dragged him to a strip club?" Luke said incredulously. "Do you know him at all?"

Claire's expression mimicked Luke's upon the mention of a strip club, Zoey snorted loudly into her cider and rushed to set it down, and Liam snapped his fingers once, his brown eyes alight with recognition.

He pointed at me with a broad grin and exclaimed, "That's right! Strip club! You went to a strip club on Friday! "

Zoey simply reached toward Shawn as if she wanted to shake his hand. He looked down, cocked his head in curiosity at her dainty digits, and took her hand in his.

"Nice job, man," she quipped as their hands bobbed up and down twice. "Hilarious. How was he?"

Shawn stammered, "Um—"

"Zoey, I'm right here," I reminded her needlessly.

Her green eyes shot to me. "And there's no way you'll give us a realistic recounting of the night, now, is there?"

"Uh," Shawn's head bounced from Zoey to Luke. "For the record, I apologized."

"Oh, please," Zoey spoke. "You don't need to apologize unless something went wrong." She gasped, and her smile blinded us all. "Did something go wrong?"

Liam chuckled at her excitement, and I internally squirmed as I said, "Nothing went wrong."

"What…what could even go wrong at a strip club?" Shawn questioned aloud in an attempt to remain casual.

It did not sound casual.

"Yeah, that's not convincing," Zoey noted, amused.

Claire chastised her, "If he doesn't want to talk about it, he doesn't have to."

"So, which club did ya go to?" Liam asked.

Claire's red head snapped to the seat across from her. "Liam! "

I sighed heavily, looking down to the empty chair on my left that Cassie would soon be sitting in. Certain that she wouldn't care for the mentioning of her work when she was attempting to keep it private, I divulged as quickly and succinctly as possible:

"Gas Lamp."

"Nice," Zoey replied. "Y'know, they do a glow-in-the-dark night."

I exhaled heavily. "I'm well aware."

"Was it?" she pressed.

"Cosmic night," I returned. "Uh huh."

Zoey beamed. "And? How was it?"

"Dark."

Liam joked, "Glow- in-the-dark," and threw his head back in laughter at his terrible pun.

Zoey pressed her lips together tightly, patting his forearm as she muttered sarcastically, "Good one, Sweets."

"Dark," I repeated, "and depressing." Zoey looked at me with eager, questioning eyes, and I insisted, "There's no story there."

Shawn piped up, "We were only there for one drink. It was…not fun? And we, uh, left."

I grumbled, "Brooks, you're making it sound weird."

Shawn nervously remarked, "Remember how you said you'd get me a drink? "

Claire murmured, "Oh, I'll flag down Garrett," and hovered out of her seat to wave to the man tending the bar.

The conversation naturally steered away from my weekend's activities, turning to the group speaking with Shawn—Claire, Zoey, and Liam with general niceties, and Luke silently questioning whether Shawn appeared to be worth the time of day. Knowing Luke's penchant for holding a grudge and his first impression of Shawn being a poor one, I gently kicked to my left to reach his legs.

He looked at me, perturbed, and I mouthed a silent, ‘Be nice.'

Luke let out a quick exhale through his nose, looked back to Shawn, and plastered the tiniest of fake smiles on his face.

Claire, speaking to Shawn, lovingly brushed Luke's chest as she told him, "We met when Zoey and I moved here a little over a year ago—he hired me to work here, actually."

My brother's fa?ade of a smile morphed into a real one as he looked down at Claire, watching her speak of their first introductions.

Garrett spoke from my left the moment he reached us, "Jay—usual? "

He was young. Tall. Blonde. Thin. Nice, though we hadn't spoken much, and truthfully, I was taken aback that he remembered what I typically ordered.

"Oh…yeah, thanks," I told him. I tapped Shawn on his arm. "What do you want?"

Without taking his focus off of Claire, who was still rambling on, he asked, "Stout?"

I looked up to Garrett, and he nodded. "Got it. Be back."

I glanced toward the door, expecting— hoping— to see Cassie. She wasn't there, though, and the voices around me turned to a dull murmur as I got lost in my anxious, anticipatory thoughts. Cassie would arrive, eventually. I would tell her hello. She would probably take my drink. I'd ask her—quietly so the rest of the group wouldn't hear, maybe whilst the remainder of them were distracted with conversation—if we could chat somewhere private. She'd roll her eyes, I'd shoot her a telling glance that would explain my need to revisit our encounter from Friday, and she would agree. She'd have to agree. We'd…I dunno…inconspicuously go to the bathroom one after the other, I'd meet her in the women's or she'd meet me in the men's, I'd thoroughly apologize for being an asshole, and she'd accept. It may take some work, but she'd accept. Without the guilt lingering over my head and knowing that she didn't think of me with hatred, the tension that I had built up in my mind between us would eventually melt away, and I could continue on with my life as I had intended.

Yep. That was the plan.

My fingers tapped on my thigh rapidly—pinkie, ring, middle, index; pinkie, ring, middle, index—until Garrett returned with my drink and Shawn's. I thanked him quietly, took a large gulp, and felt it burn all the way down to my gut. The bell chimed above the front door.

Truthfully, I have no idea how I heard it over the ambient noise of patrons—perhaps it was because I was hyper-aware. Regardless, I turned my head toward the noise, and my chest lurched. Her jeans were black, high-waisted, and tight. The maroon long-sleeve shirt she wore left her midriff exposed, the silver in her navel glinting out just above the fastening of her pants. Her hair was up in a high ponytail that rendered her neck bare, and though I expected her dark eyes to meet mine, they didn't. Instead, Cassie kept her attention raptly focused on Garrett, who had returned behind the bar. She gave him a cheery greeting, waving with a beaming smile, took one glance at the general direction of our table, and, without skipping a beat, looked back to Garrett and held up two fingers. He nodded, and I used all of my force of will to yank my attention away from their interaction because it felt as though I had lingered too long.

I stared at my drink, awaiting her fingers to wrap around the glass. The air to my left turned hot as she sat in the only available seat, everyone told her hello, and her well-manicured nails never appeared. I blinked as if my eyes were deceiving me, saw nothing different, and when I looked at her, she was smiling past me at Shawn.

"Hi. I'm Cassie—and you are?"

It was all too convincing, as if she had never seen his face, and Shawn stammered, "Uh, Shawn Brooks."

"He took Jay to a strip club," Zoey blurted, and my stomach dropped.

Cassie's smile faltered for the briefest moment—so brief that I believed I was the only one to see it because my eyes were trained on her face—and she hummed, quipping, "Nice." She looked at me, happy grin maintained but not reaching her eyes as she remarked, "Hope you had a good time."

"I didn't," I told her.

Cassie murmured, "That's a shame."

As quiet as it was, I was the only one who was able to hear that her tone was scathing.

"Alright, alright," Claire interjected. "He doesn't want to talk about it. We've been over this." I shot her a thankful glance, and she looked to Cassie. "So, Cassie…saw you saying hi to Garrett."

Luke groaned. "This isn't gonna go over well, baby."

Claire waved a hand in his face, and he flinched backward to avoid it.

I pressed Luke, "What's not gonna go over well?"

Luke rolled his eyes, and Zoey spoke for him, "Claire thinks that everyone needs to be paired off."

Claire whined, "He's nice."

"Garrett?" Liam grimaced. "Garrett and Cassie? Cassie and Garrett?"

Luke deadpanned, "That is the combination of their names, yes."

"He's, like…a child, Claire," Liam complained.

"He's twenty-one," Claire argued. "Close to Cassie's age—would you rather she date an older man?"

My intestines twisted, and I grabbed my glass as casually as I could muster to throw the remainder of the liquid back in one swig.

Cassie joked, "I have no problem being a sugar baby," the gulp I had taken got caught in my throat as I coughed, and Shawn gave me a single, rough rap on the back.

He leaned toward my ear to quickly mutter, "Pull yourself together, Jesus. "

Zoey's eyes shined in Cassie's direction, and she approvingly exclaimed, "Atta girl!"

Liam looked down at her disbelievingly. "Not atta girl. The fuck, Zo'?" Zoey snickered loudly, and he grumbled, "Either way. Garrett's…twiggy."

Liam lifted his beer to his lips, and Zoey returned, "Maybe he's twiggy compared to you, ya big lug." Despite his annoyance, I saw him hide a hint of a smile at her joking reference to his large, burly stature. Zoey continued, "And who gives a shit? Don't comment on his appearance. Maybe your sister's into that."

"She can't date the bartender," Liam argued, albeit a bit softer. "They break up, what are Luke and Claire gonna do—fire him? I'm not gonna want to see him around."

"Because help is so easy to find in this town," Luke spoke over them both. "Yeah… no, I wouldn't fire him."

"You're assuming that I'm into him," Cassie interrupted, and I blew an exhale through my nostrils. "Who said I'm into him?"

"I didn't," Claire retorted, her hands up by her face in defense. "I didn't. Just…throwing it out there since I've caught him looking your way a few times."

Zoey laughed quietly, Liam groaned as he set his beer down, and Luke begrudgingly stated:

"He has looked."

Cassie took in everyone's commentary with a chuckle and glanced toward the bar, and if this conversation hadn't already made me practically grind my teeth down to the gums, I certainly was doing so now. I attempted not to appear as though my eyes were bulging out of my head as I followed suit and snapped my gaze to Garrett.

My thoughts on him, which had been all too positive moments prior, had suddenly shifted, and I couldn't stop my inner monologue from sneering, ‘fucking string bean,' as I fully took in his appearance.

Garrett really wasn't that thin—I was simply looking at him through green-tinted glasses. He was slimmer than Luke, who typically ran to keep his physique, but he wasn't entirely devoid of muscle. He could have been around my height—six-foot-one-ish. His hair was short— very short—and the bar lighting lit up his blonde strands as he moved. The features on his face were remarkably symmetrical now that I was really looking at him, with his nose pin-straight and his jawline sharp.

Shawn, who had turned to look at Garrett along with me, murmured an awestruck, "Oh."

"Eh," Cassie scrunched up her face in a manner of mild disapproval. "He's alright."

"He's ni-ice. "

Just as Claire sang the words, as if he were alerted to being the subject of our conversation, Garrett glanced our way. He lifted a lowball glass that appeared to be filled with whiskey, Cassie threw him a large smile, mouthing, ‘Thank you,' and he beamed back at her. Even from a distance, I could tell that his teeth were…bright. And well-aligned.

My eyes narrowed. Stupid, attractive fucking string bean.

"I know that he's nice," she told Claire. "We've talked before."

And just like that, my silence could be maintained no longer.

"You've talked before?" I inquired, looking at her with my eyebrows raised.

Thankfully, the remainder of the group was also wearing an expression of surprise, ranging from Liam's mild frustration to Zoey and Claire's delight to Luke's quiet, obvious contemplation of when they would have spoken at length.

"You guys really don't need to look so shocked," Cassie stated. "I've been with you here on Wednesdays. He works on Wednesdays. We've talked."

I retorted, " ‘Thanks for the drink,' and ‘Can you get me my bill?' isn't really considered talking."

"You're not here every day," she said to the table rather than me. "I've been here without all of you."

Claire nearly squealed. "And?"

Cassie chortled, glanced over to see Garrett making his way toward our table with her drink in hand, and the moment he was within earshot, she sweetly asked:

"Did ya short me?"

He laughed as he set the glass down before her.

"I don't short you, Cas," he replied in a voice that I just now realized had a hint of a Southern accent. "You've watched me pour your drinks. I've measured them in front of you."

Cassie opened her mouth to reply in what I knew would be some sort of witty banter, and the thrum of unease under my skin had become too much.

Before she could speak, I interjected with a gesture at her drink, "Double Jack?"

Garrett answered, "Yeah."

I snagged Cassie's glass, brought it to my lips, and placed it before me with purpose.

"Mind grabbing us another one?" I asked.

"James," Cassie chastised me.

Liam shot me an appreciative grin, and I pointedly avoided it.

Garrett mumbled an agreeing, casual, "I'm on it," and turned on his heel to walk right back to the bar.

"You never order Jack," Cassie argued. "Seriously? "

"I'm not opposed to it," I returned in a curt tone.

Liam piped up happily, "Good interference, James."

Oh, Jesus.

"What interference?" Cassie complained. "Cutting off the shortest conversation of all time by sending him away? Yeah," she glanced at me, "good interference, then."

"Don't date the bartender," Liam told her with purpose, leaning across the table slightly as he said it for further impact.

I shrugged. "Don't date the bartender, Cas." I said it as offhandedly as I could. Everyone in the group, with the exception of Cassie and Shawn, chuckled a bit, and I mumbled, "Bathroom, be back."

I moved as rapidly as I could without causing any undue concern, rushing away from the conversation that had rendered me foolishly jealous. I skirted past the single table that Shawn had borrowed a chair from previously, through the narrow hallway beyond it, and followed it until I ran smack into the men's room. The single, dimly lit stall was empty, and I was thankful that it gave me an immediate means of escape. I paced the room twice. I splashed water on my face and dried it with the brown paper towel roll hanging on the wall. I lightly smacked both of my cheeks as if to silently tell myself, ‘Wake up! '

None of it did any good, and I was just contemplating my next course of action when the door swung open from behind me. I hadn't locked it, unfortunately…and I immediately knew who had entered. As usual, I could feel her before I could even see her. Her burning presence was lingering behind me, silent while I feigned going about my business at the urinal.

"This is the men's," I spoke. "The women's is further down the hall. I thought you'd know that by now."

"Turn the fuck around, Jay, I can tell you're not peeing," she countered. I did so, met her disbelieving eyes, and she exclaimed in a hushed tone, "What the hell is wrong with you?"

I blurted out, "Don't flirt with Garrett."

"I was not flirting with Garrett," she responded. "I said all of one sentence to him."

"Did ya short me?" I repeated the single sentence she had spoken in a girlish tone that, for reasons even I couldn't decipher, contained an English accent.

Cassie snorted. "I'm British now, really? Is that what I sound like to you? A posh British girl? "

"I don't fuckin' know," I griped, looking to my feet.

"You're unbelievable," she sneered. "First, all the shit at my work—which was bad enough, my God— "

The reminder of my behavior made me groan a miserable, "Cas."

"And now," she continued, "giving me shit over Garrett aside, you're here with the goddamn guy you brought to my work. You told them that you went to a strip club? Fucking seriously, Jay? I told you that I didn't want them to know!"

"Okay, wait." I held up a hand. "They only knew about that because I told them before I went. Zoey and Liam brought it back up. I didn't say a word, and neither will Brooks."

"Goodie!" she trilled with wide eyes, bitingly sarcastic. "Thanks so much."

I pressed my hands to my eyes. "Wait, wait… can—can we back up?"

"What, you want to talk?"

I exhaled heavily. "Yes."

"About?"

"Me being an absolute ass to you."

Cassie snorted. "Which time? When you embarrassed me after I did what you asked and started to give you a dance? When you yelled at me in the parking lot? Oh, or when you forcibly yanked me off of your friend and made a scene?"

"Fuck , first of all," I began, "don't call him my friend."

"The guy that got handsy, then," she attempted to correct.

"The man who exposed your breast," I stated the alternative phrasing, the reminder setting me on edge.

"You're so courtly. I'm a stripper, Jay— exposed is a weird word to use in this context."

"I don't give a shit."

Cassie paused, noting, "That actually bothered you, didn't it?"

"It bothered me enough to break his fingers," I confessed before I could stop the words from exiting my mouth.

Her dark eyes widened. "When did you—"

"When I pulled his hands off of you. Doesn't matter. We're not talking about him."

"We're talking about you?" Cassie asked, irritation back in her tone. "You wanna talk about you?"

"Yeah—I was rude."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Ya think?"

"I'm sorry, Cas," I muttered. "I'm so sorry."

Looking to the ceiling, she replied, "I don't—I don't get it. Do you have a problem with what I do for work?"

"No," I replied in a sigh. Jealously from the thought of what she did for money aside, I truthfully didn't. "I don't. Really. "

She held her hands up in a shrug and let them fall by her side in exasperation.

"Then what?" she whispered.

"I…" I hesitated. "I was shocked, I think."

Cassie murmured under her breath, "Shocked, you think." She shook her head and returned, "I wrack my brain for the last few days, and it all boils down to that you were just a l'il surprised. Whatever. I'm just gonna…" she pointed at the door behind her, turned to begin to leave, and I rapidly moved to stop her by grabbing her wrist.

"Wait, I'm not—I'm not saying this right." I squeezed my grip on her. "Please, wait for just a second."

She let out a long breath, rotated to face me, and quietly replied, "Fine. What are you trying to say?"

I gathered my thoughts as well as I could, my fingers burned with the feel of her wrist against them, and I began, "I said it was you that was making me so…"

"Dickish," she offered.

"Dickish," I agreed. In the softest of tones, I said, "I wasn't lying. It's you."

Her shoulders sagged, and she stated, "You're not off to a good start here, Jay."

The undercurrent of frustration in her voice was laced with disappointment, and as much as I had been struggling to apologize without launching into a full-blown confession, it dawned on me that it wasn't fair for Cassie to be kept in the dark.

I breathed through the nervousness that clutched at my chest and admitted, "Not because I dislike you. Not because I have issues with your work. Because having you on top of me left me stunned, and I shouldn't think about you like that, but I did, anyway. I do, anyway."

Her anger appeared to have quickly withered away at my confession, and she breathed, "Oh."

"I've been a bit too busy holding back what I feel for you, and I snapped. I'm sorry."

"What you feel for me?"

Her recognition of the word was spot on, unlike how she had uttered it in disdain the last time I had seen her. When she repeated the phrase back to me, it was a whisper laced with such…such undisguised hope that it made my eyes flutter closed for a quick moment. I opened them, and it seemed as though we had gravitated toward each other. Cassie wore the look of a woman who wanted my lips on hers, and the mere sight made my chest wrench. Desire flooded my veins—desire to capture the strand of hair that had escaped from her ponytail and tuck it behind her ear—to cradle her jaw in my hand, pull her to me, and kiss her like I meant it.

And I almost did .

Instead, panic at my decision to verbally cross a line constricted my lungs, and I replied succinctly, "Yeah." Her response visibly churned in her mind, but it didn't get a chance to leave her lips because I wouldn't allow it. I pulled her wrist that was still in my grasp sharply to the left, she blindly followed my insistence to move, and I grabbed the knob as I dropped my hold on her. I ordered, "Stay here for a few minutes so no one asks questions, okay?"

I opened the door with a gusto that made Cassie take a large step back, and she called to me:

"What? Jay, wait—"

Her eyes were wide as the door shut, and I moved to distance myself from the bathroom as quickly as possible.