Her eyes widened as the door swung shut behind her. “Oh.” She let out a nervous laugh. “I didn’t realize . . .” “Looks like what this isn’t.” I shook my head. “I mean, this isn’t what it looks like.” “Of course, this isn’t what it looks like.” David maintained a solid grip on the unzipped, very open back of my jumpsuit, prohibiting me from stepping away. “Stupid thing,” he mumbled, and I realized he was pretending my zipper was stuck. “As you can see”—I elaborated on his ruse, avoiding eye contact with Nalani—“the clogged toilet ran everybody off. I, um, accidentally dropped something down my jumpsuit. And then I, uh, came in here to get it out, and now I can’t seem to get this darn—” David’s fingers and warm breath brushed my lower back. My brain went blank. I stood there, aware I should be saying something, but for the life of me couldn’t recall what. He gave my fastener a firm tug, and I snapped back to the moment. “I can’t get this darn zipper up.
