The bathroom was tropical and he’d used all the hot water. He swiped at the glass with a towel and succeeded only in smearing it. He still couldn’t see himself clearly enough to risk shaving. ‘Fuck my luck.’ He ran a hand over his chin, feeling the velvety fuzz of a day’s growth. It wasn’t so bad that he had to shave, not really. But he had a bit of a thing about showing respect for Angela. When they spent as long snogging as the two of them tended to, any stubble at all made her skin go blotchy, which made her folks suspicious, and made him feel guilty. So. Shaving. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his hips, as low as he could sling it without it sliding off altogether. Then he leaned over and opened the bathroom window wide, resting his elbows on the sill. A lawnmower whined in the distance and some kids played on a trampoline in the garden behind, singing pop songs at the tops of their voices.
