Chapter nine – Inopportune discovery
Theresa waited, her blue eyes never leaving the now patched door. She couldn't hear anything outside of the room, the buzz from the shower drowning out her chances of hearing their approach. She didn't fully understand why the two men behind the door were so nasty, and her mental stability didn't need to find out. She tensed, hearing a faint slam; she guessed it was Shooter leaving the cabin. Theresa relaxed slightly; one less psychotic delusion to worry about the better. The red head cocked a brow when Rainey's wet body stepped out of the washroom, it was then Theresa discovered that keeping eyes above waists was much harder than she originally perceived.
"Did they bother you?" The question took much longer to compute than it would have under normal circumstances.
"I'm sorry?" The petite woman asked, dragging her eyes away from the dark line of hair trailing down to beneath the towel.
"I said," Rainey attempted to ignore the looks his chest was receiving, "Did they bother you?"
"Oh…no, I think Shooter left." She replied, closing her eyes and shaking her head slightly. She was going to be in some serious trouble if he didn't put on clothing soon. Rainey took that as a sign and quickly pulled a shirt over his head.
"I'm going to wait outside." Theresa announced, her decision made hastily. Refusing to make eye contact, she stepped out of the bedroom. Letting out a breath, Theresa suppressed a yelp. Mort was sitting on the floor, eyeing her coldly.
"Uh….Mort, what are you doing?" She asked, stepping back against the wall. The writer continued to glare, before biting off, "I dropped my last cigarette."
"I thought you didn't smoke." Theresa's eyes widened and receded at the glance she received.
"If I didn't smoke, would I be on the floor?" Mort mumbled something about stupid females, before Rainey stepped out of the room. Holey jeans, old t-shirt. Nothing spectacular, Theresa concluded.
"My house." She said, sending one last glance to Mort. The writer was groping under his desk, still grumbling. Rainey nodded and descended behind Theresa, but not before giving Mort a cigarette.
"All you had to do was ask."
A/N: No reviews. I don't care. Put yourself in Theresa's shoes: Johnny Depp in a towel. Such a typical fan girlish dream, but I had to use it.
