“Then push back the reservations.”
“We don’t have reservations.”
“Then there’s no need for you to hop down her throat about it.”
I whipped my head over, shooting D.J. a look. And as he rolled his eyes at me, I scoffed. I got up from the couch and left the room, refusing to be near him one second longer. Mom could take all the fucking time in the world she wanted to get ready. That was her right. And he had no right to get upset with her when all she wanted to do was look pretty for him.
Besides, I had to start getting ready myself.
Mom poked her head out. “That you, Rae?”
I walked down the hallway. “Yep.”
She put her earrings in. “I thought you were talking with D.J. for me.”
“Yeah, well. I’m done talking.”
I walked into my bedroom and closed the door. I didn’t want Mom talking me into going back down there. And not a minute later, D.J. was yelling up the stairs. Like it was his damn house.
“You coming, Lu? We don’t have all night!”
“Come on. I’m sure you look fine.”
“The restaurant won’t have space for us if we don’t leave now!”
“Lu!”
I almost opened my door and told him to shut the hell up. But I heard Mom finally call out for him. Telling him she was coming. I walked over to my window, listening as the two of them bickered downstairs. And as they left through the front door, I watched them walk to D.J.’s car. He looked up at me and paused. Right by his door. I pointed my fingers to my eyes before pointing back at him. Letting him know I was watching him. Always.
And after he shook his head at me, the two of them dipped into his car.
I scrambled out of my bedroom after that. I had to power clean some things. The kitchen sink was full of dishes, courtesy of the asshole that had just left. I wanted to vacuum the living room floor. Clint and I had a movie night on the books. One where we’d order pizza, curl up underneath some blankets, and watch movies until we passed out on the couch. Or upstairs in my bedroom. I grinned at the thought. Holy hell, Mom would shit bricks if Clint came down the stairs tomorrow morning.
Then again, she and D.J. would be snoring too loud to hear us doing anything in the morning, anyway.
I scrubbed at the dishes before rinsing them off in the sink. I stacked them neatly in the dish holder, letting them drip-dry on the counter. I pulled the vacuum out of the closet and struck it up, chastising myself for getting so sweaty. I had less than an hour to pull everything off. Especially since Clint was already halfway through his physical therapy appointment.
“Come on. You gotta get a shower still.”
I ran the vacuum over the carpet as quickly as I could. Spot-treating it, really. Just to make it look a bit more decent. I shoved it into the closet and kicked the cord underneath the door, hoping it didn’t come springing back out at the most inopportune moment. I ran up the steps, taking them two by two. Wanting nothing more than to barge into the bathroom and take the hottest shower alive.
But I settled for a cooler shower. Cold enough to get me to stop sweating without chilling me to the damn bone.
Out I hopped, ten minutes later, with a towel wrapped around my body. I rushed into my mother’s bathroom, digging out her blow dryer. I didn’t want my hair dripping wet for Clint once he got here. Especially if he wanted to play with it.
Oh, I loved it when he played with my hair.
I flipped my head over and felt the heat blast against my neck. I didn’t know how to turn the heat down on the blow dryer, though. Was that even a function? So my neck began sweating. And my face. By the time my hair was dry, the rest of me was wet again. From the damn hair dryer being much too hot.
“Fuck.”
I toweled myself off as I walked into my bedroom. I looked at the clock, groaning as my eyes read the time. Shit. It was already six o’clock. He was getting out of his appointment now, which meant he only had to cross town to get here.
“Gotta hurry, Rae,” I murmured to myself as I rushed around with my fan on full blast. Trying to stop the sweating as I worked up yet another one. I pulled on some clothes and ran a brush through my hair. I fanned my face, trying to get the redness to stop pooling in my cheeks. I lay down on my bed, spread eagle, letting my damn crotch and my armpits air out.
I was so fucking nervous to have Clint over, it almost made me sick.
Why he insisted he come over after his last physical therapy appointment I wasn’t sure. But who was I to say no? I wanted to spend time with him. I wanted to celebrate this moment with him. His first round of PT was over. And after a check-up tomorrow afternoon at the hospital, we’d know whether or not he needed another round. With every passing day for the past three weeks, he’d gotten stronger. He needed less and less help to get to classes. His bruises had faded into small, y