Craft Beer & Roses

Chapter 30

Aviva stared blankly at the mirror. The running water from the shower played a soothing rhythm, pattering steadily against the tiled floor. Plumes of steam wrapped her motionless body in a gentle embrace, dampening her exposed skin. She wasn't sure how long she'd been in the bathroom but judging by the thick layer of fog that settled on the reflective glass before her, it must've been much longer than necessary.

She'd been lost in thought.

It had been such a long journey since day one she'd nearly lost track of the time. There wasn't much left of it, from what she could remember from her contract.

So close to the end.

Aviva braced her hands against the edge of the sink, fingers slipping along the condensation coating the surface.

So hopelessly single.

She hadn't forgotten her goal of moving on, nor her lofty dream of running her own business. It was at that point, however, that she began to weigh the importance of each. With only a few weeks left and no solid coupling to fall back on, she worried her dream would float further and further away.

Aviva bowed forward, curls curtaining her face, shoulders hunching as she inhaled a lungful of steam. She dragged her gaze up to the mirror; through the blurry glass behind tired hazel pools, she could still make out a distinct sparkle of determination in her eyes.

There was so much left unsaid, so many wrongs left to right. But above all else, there was still a chance to finish strong. At least stronger than when she first came in.

She hadn't totally given up on herself.

Not yet.

A light wrapping at the door stirred her from her musings. Aviva looked over her shoulder, wondering if she'd imagined the disruption until it sounded again.

"Out in a bit." She called over the running water.

"You've been in ages," A familiar Irish lilt responded, prompt and muffled, "thought you might be drowning."

A smile lifted on her lips. Aviva turned around fully, leaning back against the counter and crossing her legs at the ankles. "Come to rescue me then, have you?"

She could hear a deep chuckle, its rich timbre subdued by the wooden barrier between them, "I proved as much, didn't I?" A beat of silence, "So will you let me in, or...?"

Aviva pushed herself off the edge of the sink, taking four short steps to the door. Her hand stilled above the doorknob before thinking better of it and resting her forehead against the frame instead, "I don't need saving."

"How about some company?" He offered, though the words were devoid of their usual flirtatious overtones.

"Terrible things happen when we're alone behind closed doors, Finnley..." She warned hesitantly, feeling her pulse skip at the memory of their bodies melded together.

"You say terrible; I say...intense." He countered; she didn't even need to see his face to know a devious grin had taken over his face.

Quiet stretched between them, the water spattering the shower floor, the steam so heavy she thought she'd choke. How much longer would their relationship be reduced to frequent late-night trysts?

"Let me in, Rosie..." He begged.

She could feel herself wavering, hand sliding down the wooden frame to perch against the cool metal knob. How much longer could she keep this up?

"I missed you..." His voice sounded closer as if his head were pressed against the wood.

Pressed against her.