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I ball my hands into fists and grit out, “I’m not lying. Now let’s get you dressed so we can go see Flora.”

“Why don’t we call her?”

I turn around and stride to my bedroom. “Because she’ll have to see us to believe it.”

“You know what? I should probably take a shower.”

I freeze for a second, then whirl around. “You’re not showering in my body!”

He arches his brows. “Why not? Oh, you don’t want me to see you naked?”

I cross my arms. “Exactly… or touch me.”

He scoffs. “That can’t be avoided, sugar. Eventually, I’ll have to pee and take a dump. There will be touching of your private parts.”

My face becomes hot. Good thing all Keanu can see now is a blur of me. I swallow the angry words on the tip of my tongue and go find clothes for him to wear. I grab a pair of pink sweats, a matching hoodie, and a T-shirt and shove them at him. “Wear these.”

“Oh, am I allowed to get undressed, then?”

“Right now, yes. You can’t see anything.”

“Yeah… I’m gonna need to fix that. Where do you keep your glasses?”

“You can wear contacts.”

“I’d rather wear glasses, if you don’t mind.”

“Ugh. Fine.”

He shimmies out of my pajama pants, and I catch a view of the soles of his feet. They’re filthy.

“You know what? Go wash your feet. They’re disgusting. There’s a bidet in my bathroom.”

He wrinkles his nose. “Who has a bidet in this day and age?”

“Stop stalling. We don’t have much time.”

“Jesus, you’re bossy.” He veers for my bathroom.

I can’t call people, but I can email them. I grab my laptop and open my inbox. Bobbi handles my communication, but I need to know what Gene’s assistant wants. Bobbi probably knows, but he was worried about me, so it likely slipped his mind.

Gene’s assistant, Rebecca, did send me an email. It’s about Aaron Jones. He’ll be in town in three days, and he wants to have dinner. I start to reply, but then I notice the massive hands on my keyboard—Keanu’s hands. What if I’m still stuck in his body by then?

You can’t think like that, Leigh. Positive thoughts. Visualize the outcome you want.

I type a quick reply that yes, I’m free on that date. After I hit Send, I check my Instagram account. Celine posted our selfie from the shoot and asked me to collaborate on the post. I don’t even hesitate—I click yes.

I get distracted scrolling through social media and don’t realize Keanu is taking forever in the bathroom until minutes have gone by. That’s when I hear the shower.

That son of a bitch.

“Keanu!” I yell.

The shower turns off, and a moment later, he steps out of my bathroom, wrapped in a towel. “What?”

“I told you not to shower.”

“Honey, you can’t tell me what to do. Now, where do you keep your underwear?” He turns to my chest of drawers, but I stop him from opening any.