The Professional Alibi

Chapter 11: Intimate Details

I get to work on disassembling my dorm room, pulling pictures off the wall and tossing them into a box. With each memory that disappears, the more melancholy I get. I won't have anything tangible to take with me in this new life. Everything I retain will be a memory.

A few minutes later, Wade returns with a rolling trolley filled with sprays, cleaners, vacuums, rags, and a bevy of other cleaning supplies.

"What's all that?" I ask.

"Tricks of the trade," he says, rocking his brows up and down.

I pull the last of the pictures from my wall, toss them into the box, along with a box full of thumbtacks. "And you just happened to have all of that in your car?"

"I borrowed it from Headmaster Winters's office. You aren't the first person we've cleaned. Not even the first person today."

My stomach sinks at the memory of Keeley being whisked away without saying goodbye to me. I nod and continue to work. "What do I get to bring with me?"

"Enough for a couple changes of clothes and your personal toiletries. Anything sentimental or personal stays in the box."

"Gotcha." I survey my room with my hands on my hips. Why am I freaked out? They talked about this in class. The efficiency of movement and what that requires when you're mobile.

Wade starts rolling the trolley toward the bathroom.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

He pauses and says over his shoulder, "I'm starting with your bathroom. I'll bring all your stuff out first, then I'll work on the bathroom while you work on the main room."

"You're cleaning my bathroom?" My eyes bulge. How messy is it? Do I really want this hot guy in my bathroom cleaning up my grime? "Ya know what, why don't I clean the bathroom? You can go take a nap or get a coffee. Come back in a couple hours and help me load up the boxes."

"It's fine. Half the bathroom was already cleaned this morning. It'll be super fast."

I bolt into action, scurrying to the cart, and step in front of it, stopping him. "Seriously. I'm more than happy to clean my room myself. It' my mess. I'll clean it up."

Wade pushes against my legs and shakes his head. "Really, it's fine. I don't mind."

"I'd rather clean the room myself." I push back, gripping the sides of the trolley to keep him from going any further.

"It'll be more efficient if I help." He tries to go around me, but I get into his way again.

"I'd rather you don't." I lunge for one of the rags and a spray bottle. "I'll get started on the bathroom now, so you don't have to worry about it."

Wade's nostrils flare and he starts to lunge for the cleaning products in my hands, but he stops and straightens. His expression smooths as if he doesn't care, then turns and walks toward the dresser. "That's fine. I'll start packing your clothes then. Do you want me to pack all your bras and panties, or do want just your favorites?" He opens one of the drawers and peers in, then pulls out one of my especially lacy bras, holding it up and examining it.

An unholy screech erupts from my mouth, and I barrel toward him.

He digs into the drawer and pulls out the pasties I used for my prom dress and tosses them onto the bed with the bra. "Do you want me to choose? How about tampons and pads? I know girls are particular about their feminine products." He keeps prattling on as if he's talking about the weather. The more he talks the more my pulse pounds in my head and my heart thumps in my chest, making it hard to breathe.

He's grinning now, practically dancing between the bed and the draws, finding the most embarrassing items and pulling them out for me to see. "Also, where are your suitcases? I don't want to pack the wrong stuff. And do you sleep in the nude or do you have pajamas you want me to--"

I tackle the man with the full force of my weight, wrapping my arms around his torso and shoving him away from my stuff. He stumbles to the side a couple of steps, his legs slamming into the frame of my bed. Wade topples onto my bed, with me on top of him, my arms still wrapped around his chest like a spider monkey.

"Oof!"

When I come to my senses, I'm practically on top of him, my face shoved into his chest. My arms are still wrapped around him, and my hands are pinned under his body. I risk a peek up at him, and he's grinning, his chest shaking as he laughs.

My face burns hotter than the sun in the middle of July, and I wriggle to extract my hands out from under him. When I get one hand free, he grabs my wrist and holds it firm. I scowl up at him, uncomfortably aware of how good he smells, and how firm his chest is.

He extracts his other hand and clamps it around my waist and smirks

"What are you doing?" I say, stilling.

I try to get up, but his hold turns into a vice grip. "Are you done freaking out?"

"I dunno. Are you done going through my underwear?"

"I'm not sure yet. It was pretty cute underwear."

"Perv."

He cocks an eyebrow. "I would never have gone through your drawers if you'd just let me do my job."

"I don't want you going through my things!"

"Then let me clean the bathroom like I originally planned."

I sigh and press my eyes closed, feeling my cheeks warm. "I don't want you cleaning my bathroom either. It's a mess." Plus, he's not only essentially a stranger and a guy, he's a hot-looking guy who has no business cleaning some girl's bathroom.

Wade loosens his grip, allowing me to climb off of him. I sit on the office chair across from him.

"Look," he says, propping himself up on his elbows. "I know you just met me, but we don't have time to take things nice and slow, and learn to trust each other. There will be no team building exercises or get-to-know-you parties. Today is Saturday and you will have your first foray into the world of espionage on Monday."

As he speaks, he ticks off his list, touching his finger with each item, "Between now and then I need to erase your old identity from the face of this planet, give you a new one, move you into your new home, fill you in on the details of your mission, and find time to feed you and let you get your beauty sleep."

"Holy crap," I mutter under my breath.