Cherry Pie

Cliff Diving

[Rayne]

"Okay," I said to a flour covered Dean outside of the bathroom door a little while later. "I'll try to get this gunk out of my hair in less than ten minutes."

"I'll wait for you here just in case. I'll keep track of the time."

I sighed. "Our whole lives are going to be a series of races from now on, aren't they?"

Dean chuckled but didn't say anything. He must have realized that I was right. I closed the door between us and glanced in the mirror. My hair went from being reddish-brown to white. Streaks of flour ran down my face, my dark blue tank top had white hand prints on it from where Dean grabbed me, and I was pretty sure a few apple slices went down my shirt.

Studying my reflection in the mirror, I smirked proudly. Dean looked worse off.

Channeling my inner soldier, I peeled my clothes off as quickly as I could — all the while imagining that admiral Dean was barking at me to be quicker. And then I was imagining Dean in a uniform and my speed was greatly reduced by the enticing picture.

Focus.

I jumped into the shower, yelping as the freezing water hit my body. Twisting the knobs, I trembled in the corner, waiting for the temperature to adjust. Once it was warm, I turned my back to the shower-head, tilted my face up towards the ceiling, and started running my fingers through my hair, trying to wash it out.

Of course, stupid me should have predicted that warm water and flour would turn into dough and pretty quickly I was covered in sticky, stretchy, severely under-cooked bread.

"Crap, crap, crap," I hissed quietly, all too aware of my dwindling time.

Grabbing the bottle of no-name shampoo that looked like it had been standing in Bobby's shower for at least a decade, I squirted a generous amount onto the top of my scalp and started lathering it in.

Then I remembered my prickly legs that I had yet to shave and a sense of panicked urgency made me stop my hair washing. I snatched the cheap razor that I brought with me into the bathroom and speedily started to glide it up my legs.

And of course, two of the worst things that could ever happen to someone in the shower happened to me at that point. The shampoo from my hair slid down my forehead and pierced my eyes, which made my hand jerk and caused the dumb, piece of crap, razor to nick my knee.

"Ow, ow, crap. Shoot!" I wailed, dropping the forgotten razor, and trying to scrub the shampoo out of my eyes with both of my hands.

"Hey!" I heard Dean's gruff voice call from the other side of the door. "You okay in there?"

"No." I blindly grabbed at the shower curtain and used it to cover my body so that I could stick my head out around it. "Can you come in here?"

"Uh...what?" he asked uncertainly.

"Just get in here!" I cried. I felt like my eyes were being drenched in acid and I squeezed them shut tighter, although that didn't help at all. I heard the door creak open.

"What's going on?" He then must have seen me in all my glory because he choked out a laugh. "What happened to you?"

"I'm being assaulted by the toiletries!"

"Huh?" 

"I can't do this in under ten minutes," I bawled. "You have to stay in here."

He chuckled. "Okay, okay. I'll stay."

Sighing in relief, I thanked him and pulled the shower curtain back in place before poking my head through one more time and looking in the direction of where I thought he was. "But no peeking!"