Page 35 of The Lipstick Flip

“Shower,” Noah said.

“She’s in a fucking coma. It’s not like I have anybody to impress.”

“It’s about respect. You can take five minutes for a shower. I’ll choose something nice for you to wear.”

Which was how I ended up in the shower while, from the bedroom, came the sounds of Noah picking through my life.

“Why are all these clothes still in boxes?” Noah called over the spray of water.

I kept working on the soap.

“What about that nice sweater my mom gave you? The blue one.”

Okay, maybe there had been a lot of sawdust. And some of it had been in my ears.

“Oh my God, you still have this stupid hot dog shirt.”

“I like that shirt! Don’t touch that shirt!”

It was hard to tell over the sound of the shower, but I thought he was laughing.

I got out of the shower. I dried off and wrapped the towel around my waist. There was something…weird about being almost naked around Noah, but then, we’d seen each other naked plenty of times before. And it’s not like I was hanging my dick in his face.

When I stepped into the bedroom, Noah was sitting on my bed. He was playing on his phone again, a bored look on his face, but laid out next to him was a nice flannel, a crisp white undershirt, and a clean pair of jeans. Dressier jeans. Ones I’d forgotten I owned. Instead of my work boots, he’d dug out a nice leather pair that I hadn’t worn in God knew how long.

He looked up, and then he rolled his eyes. “Seriously, Howie? It’s not like I haven’t seen it all before.”

I cinched the towel a little more tightly as I picked up the clothes.

“Why are all your nice clothes in boxes?” Noah asked.

“Why do you think?”

“What do you wear when you need to go somewhere nice?”

“I don’t go anywhere nice.”

Noah rolled his eyes. Big rolls. “And why don’t you have any pictures on the walls?”

“Noah,” I said.

“You should have a picture of a car. God, that would make some bottoms squirt.”

“Oh my fucking God. Wait, where’s my underwear?”

“That’s what I was going to ask you. All I could find was a bunch of weird leprechaun boxers.”

There was so much judgment in his voice that I couldn’t stop myself from saying, “You can get it on clearance after a holiday.”

“Oh. My. God.”

I made a noise that I hoped came close to fuck off.

“Howard! Nobody wants a leprechaun staring at them when they take off your pants!”

“Thanks,” I said. “I’m good now. You can go home.”

“What do you wear when you go on a date?”