KINA
"Hmph," I muttered under my breath as I rinsed the last of the eggshell massacre off the pan. "Does he think I'm that easy? Asking me to help him shower. Seriously?"
My face was still on fire. I could feel it burning all the way to the tips of my ears.
He was teasing. He was always teasing. The smirk in his voice, that smug way he called me Princess—ugh, it made my whole spine twitch. And of course I wasn't going to fall for it. I wasn't stupid.
…But.
I glanced over my shoulder like I was checking for ghosts.
But.
He was injured. Eleven days into recovery. That bullet tore through him like a horror movie, and even though he made it look like a minor inconvenience, because he was clearly allergic to showing weakness, he still flinched sometimes when he thought I wasn't looking. His movements were stiffer today. Slower. He probably hadn't showered properly too since he crashed here. Kyle used to help clean him up like a new born baby though...
And now he was… alone.
With me.
I sighed and set the dishes into the drying rack with more force than necessary. "I'm not an asshole," I muttered, before immediately countering, "But he deserves it. He totally deserves it. He keeps calling me Princess like it's some cute pet name, and making that face like he knows I can't take it seriously, and—ugh!"
I slapped the last bowl into place like it had insulted my honor.
Then I froze.
Oh no.
There it was. The quiet, creeping realization that my bladder was… not just full. It was perilously full. The kind of full that becomes urgent just because the bathroom is twenty feet away and currently occupied by a naked man I just rejected.
At first, I pretended I could take it. I even sat down like a normal person, hands folded, jaw set. I was going to win this war.
But two minutes later, I was bouncing my leg. Crossing and uncrossing it like that would make my bladder forget its purpose in life.
Three minutes in, I was pacing. Casual at first. Just a little stroll from one corner of the living room to the other. No big deal. I was just… getting my steps in. Staying active.
Four minutes in?
I was squeezing my thighs together like I was trying to hold the entire Pacific Ocean in.
"This is fine," I whispered. "Totally fine."
Five minutes in.
I felt it.
A tiny, traitorous leak.
My soul left my body.
"Okay no," I hissed, panic setting in like thunder. "Nope nope nope—he can't stay in there—I'm gonna explode—"
I shot toward the bathroom like a missile. Dignity? Never heard of her. Pride? Who's she?
I raised my hand and knocked on the door like the apartment was on fire.
"Kieran—?!"
I knocked like I was trying to summon a demon.
"Kieran?!"
Silence… then water shifting… then—
"What is it, Princess?" came his lazy, velvet-drenched voice through the door, all smug and sinful and completely unaware of the state of emergency outside.
My knees buckled slightly. "I, uh—!" I squeezed my thighs together harder, trying not to combust. "I need the bathroom for, um, important reasons."
"Important reasons," he repeated, clearly fighting a chuckle. "What, like a secret mission? You gonna rappel out the window?"
"Don't make fun of me!" I hissed, literally hopping in place now like I was performing some tribal desperation dance. "I just—please—it's—UGH!"
There was a pause. "What kind of important?"
"I—!" I glanced at the door like it had personally betrayed me. "I need to pee, okay?! I need to pee! Like now. If I wait another minute I'm gonna baptize my floor in holy piss!"
Dead silence from the other side.
Then: "…Bring a towel first."
I blinked. "What?"
"I said bring me a towel. You want in, you pay the toll."
"You want me to—Kieran, no! If I move even a centimeter away from this spot, I will detonate like a broken fire hydrant! And this rug is limited edition! I can't afford a shame stain on it!"
"Should've thought of that before you rejected my request for help," he muttered.
"I hate you!"
"I'm naked, if that helps."
"IT DOESN'T!"
I was pleading now. "Please, just—just open the door, I swear I'll be in and out faster than you can say 'emergency bladder malfunction'—"
Then, mercy.
The soft click of the lock.
I didn't even wait. I threw the door open, dashed in like my body was possessed, yanked my shorts down, and plopped onto the toilet like it was the gates of heaven.
And when the stream came out?
Niagara Falls.
I actually sighed like I was sipping wine in a warm bath.
Pure relief. Transcendental. I could see God and she was clapping for me.
Then...
"You piss like a war horse after a three-day desert ride," a voice drawled just behind me.
I froze.
Like froze froze.
My head turned in slow motion toward the foggy mirror… and caught the very faint, very cursed reflection of a blurry man-shape leaning lazily near the tub.
I was still on the toilet, when it clicked. Like, clicked clicked. The voice. The shadow. The mirror. The body. The NUDITY.
I blinked. My mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
"KIERAN?!"
He gave a mock-salute. "That's me."
"WHY ARE YOU STANDING THERE?! NAKED?!"
"Technically I was already here," he said smoothly, completely unbothered, "You're the one who barged in and unleashed a hurricane."
"I hate you so much!"
"You keep saying that, and yet… you're still peeing."
I actually screeched.
I shrieked, scrambling to finish while throwing one hand over my eyes and the other across my chest as if that would somehow protect me from witnessing any further sins of flesh.
"D-Don't just stand there like a damn statue! Turn around!" I barked, flailing like a trapped animal in the world's most humiliating wildlife documentary.
He sighed. Actually sighed, like I was the inconvenience here.
"I told you I was naked."
"TURN. AROUND."
Another sigh.
Then he turned.
Slowly.
His back turned and sweet, holy mother of thighs, I nearly choked on air.