Instead of texting Ash again, I headed into the dingy bathroom to take a shower.
It didn’t have a fan, and the entire room smelled like old cigarettes and mold.
Perfect. I was probably going to get some weird lung infection living here.
Ignoring the stench, I started the water. The pressure was pathetic, and I cranked it all the way to hot and stuck my hand under the dribble of water coming out of the showerhead.
It was freezing cold.
I stripped my clothes off and waited a few more seconds, then tested the water again.
It was warm. Not hot, but warm enough.
Shit. I’d forgotten my towel and toiletries.
I yanked my basketball shorts back on and hurried out of the bathroom and into my room. I grabbed my shower caddy, my towel, and my shower shoes just for good measure. Thank fuck I’d brought them out of habit.
I slid my feet into the shower slides and hurried back to the bathroom.
The water wasn’t any hotter, and I stripped off my shorts with a sigh.
It was weird showering under a steady dribble of water instead of a nice spray. The showerhead looked to be caked with calcium, or was it lime? Either way, it was dirty as fuck. I’d have to pick up some of that stuff that promised to clean calcium and other shit when I got my groceries.
We also needed to buy a shower curtain. The liner was thin, and it was a little disconcerting not having a barrier between me and the rest of the bathroom while I was soaping up.
When I finished rinsing my hair, the water was just starting to go cold. I turned it off and grabbed my towel.
I carefully stepped out of the tub, shivering in the chilly air. We were going to have to get a mat or nonslip stickers. The tub was slippery as fuck when it was wet and covered with soap residue.
The rest of the apartment was sweltering hot thanks to the late summer heat, but the bathroom was always cold, even with me running the “hot” water. I toweled off as quickly as I could and pulled my shorts on, not bothering with my shirt.
“Where the fuck were you?” I demanded.
Ash stood next to the front door, one hand on the knob like he’d just closed it.
“Out.”
He looked a bit rough around the edges. His normally perfect hair was mussed and limp, and his eyes were red-rimmed and tight.
He was hung over.
“You can’t just take the van like that. We’re supposed to share it.”
“And what are you going to do about it?” He strode into the apartment and headed toward his room.
“I need the keys.”
“Nah.”
“Fuck you, Asher. Gimme the goddamn keys.”
“No.”
I saw red.
The next thing I knew, I was behind Ash, one hand on his shoulder, as I punched him in the back with the other.
He let out a growl and spun around, grabbed my wrists and shoved me back against the wall, effectively pinning me.