My Hired Boyfriend (Completed)

12. Soap

12. Soap

            ~*~

            We ended up getting lucky.

            About two miles from where we were, we found a small motel.

            Now that we were inside the building, drying and getting warmer, I can finally start to regain my sanity and coherent thought.

            Coda disappeared to go organize the room billing, leaving me curled onto the lobby’s couch with an afghan thrown over my shoulders.

            I shiver, my fingers frozen and my hair wet.

            I stare at the burning fire in the fireplace, the motel giving off a comforting feeling of home.

            When I hear a rustle of movement and a dark shadow hovering over me, I break my gaze away from the fire and look up at Coda.

            He holds out a hand to me. “Come on, the manager says we can use their laundry.”

            I take his hand and stand up. When we pass the lobby mirror, I grimace at my disheveled, wet self.

            I looked like someone had dunked me into water, dragged me through the ocean, and wrung me out like a dishtowel.

            Coda pulls me away quickly though, so I don’t have the time to dwell on the thought.

            The laundry room is quaint and relatively small with a washer and dryer shoved against the wall. A couple cabinets full of soap and wash bins line the opposite side.

            “I’m going to grab our bag for something to change into,” Coda says quietly, untangling our fingers and leaving quickly.

            I sigh softly, assuming that his abrupt detachment was his reaction to my freak show back on the road.

            Running my fingers against the top of the washer, I search for the detergent.

            As I read the instructions, I twist open the cap of soap.

            It couldn’t be that hard to do laundry.

            Measure 1-

            I stop reading to pour the soap into the cap up to the brim.

            Wow, that’s a lot of soap, I think to myself as I pour it into the washer.

            I stare at the bottle. One per set of clothes? Maybe one wasn’t enough. I pour another cap full and empty it into the washer the moment Coda bustles in, dripping wet.

            His dark hair sticks to his face and his shirt clings to him, making me look away embarrassed.

            “Did you put the soap in?” He asks me. He settles the suitcase onto the table and opens it up.

            “Yup.”

            “Good. I only brought my suitcase. Yours is farther into the car and I didn’t want to pull everything out,” Coda explains.

            I lean against the washer. “So-“
            “-So you can just borrow my clothes for now,” he interrupts.