He nods, clearly indifferent about how I get to work.

“You can stay in this room.” He opens the door to the first room on the right.

Inside there’s a gray wood canopy bed with soft, white bedding. At the foot of the bed, a turquoise sofa sits under a white pearl chandelier. A coordinating oriental rug in teal, ivory and mossy green peeks out from under the bed and sofa.

“It’s perfect!” I exclaim as if Barrett hand chose everything in it for me, which he did not. He didn’t even know I’d be seeing his home until an hour ago. I take my response down a notch. “It’s nice. Thank you.”

I turn to find Barrett staring at me from the doorway. His once perfectly styled hair is now perfectly messy from the humidity and sweat that it endured. And his hands. They’ve been working through his tresses ever since I walked through the front door.

“Do you want to take a shower?”

“Yes. That would be great. Just point me in the right direction.” I glance down the hallway. “Unless you wanted to go first.”

I don’t even let my mind entertain the idea of Barrett naked in the shower.

“Unlike your apartment, there are multiple bathrooms here and none of them require a reservation system.”

“You’re hilarious,” I say, my tone devoid of humor.

Barrett moves to open the door on the left side of the room and it appears I have my own bathroom now. I think I might actually start to cry.

I’ve never had my own bathroom. Not growing up when I shared a bathroom with my two sisters, not when I went to college and used communal bathrooms, and definitely not at my current apartment.

There’s a huge soaking tub and a separate shower stall. A double vanity with two sinks. I guess that’s what double means, but how the heck am I going to choose which one to use? I’ve never had access to two sinks that at least two to four other people haven’t been clamoring to get to. Maybe I’ll use one for morning and one for night. That makes the most sense.

There are white fluffy towels stacked on a shelf next to the shower. They’re so fluffy, only two can fit on the shelf. If I were a gymnast, I could do an entire floor routine in this room.

“Will this do?” Barrett asks from the doorway.

“I suppose it will have to.” I sigh. Barrett shakes his head, then pushes off the door frame to leave.

“Dinner will be in twenty minutes,” he calls as he exits.

“Uh huh,” is my only response. I’m too busy turning the bathtub on and stripping out of my clothes.

Holy freaking bananas. I might get fired from my job because I never leave this tub. That would be ironic.