*

And we have pressure," Peter says, flicking water from his fingers and stepping back to give Audra access to the bathtub.

She tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, folding her arms over her chest. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." Peter starts towards the door, only to turn back, second-guessing himself, "Just um–" He struggles again in search of something to say. "I'd go easy on the tap if I were you. Like I said, the pipes are pretty old."

Audra nods, "Right."

Peter hesitates. He wants to say more but doesn't. Instead, he takes a deep breath and clasps his hands together, backing out of the bathroom, "Okay, well, I'll just, um– I'll leave you to it."

He turns away, only to be beckoned back by Audra's voice as she smothers a small laugh. "Uh, Peter?"

He pauses. "Yeah?"

She points, "The door?"

Peter's eyes dart towards the door and back. He chuckles, snagging the handle and pulling it shut behind him, "Right. Sorry."

Audra shakes her head and looks away. "It's fine." She smiles. "Thanks."

Peter nods.

He returns to his luggage at the foot of the bed, leaving the bathroom door slightly ajar, believing Audra would shut it before entering the shower, only she doesn't. Not completely.

As Peter unzips his camera case, he hears her robe hit the floor. Without thinking, he turns, catching a glimpse of her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Peter watches as Audra tilts her head back, wetting her hair. She faces the faucet, washing her face. Ashamed, he looks away, clearing his throat and shaking his head as if in an attempt to erase the image of Audra's bare shoulders from his mind.

He blinks, focusing on the bag before him. Peter's phone buzzes on the bed. Kendall is calling. Again. Her picture appears on the screen. He takes a deep breath, reaches for the phone, and turns to look toward the bathroom once more. However, before Peter can answer the call, Audra interrupts him.

"So, Jim tells me you're a photographer."

He hesitates, "Excuse me?"

"A photographer?" Audra repeats, "Like, you take pictures, right?"

Peter silences the call, sliding his phone into his pocket. "Uh, yeah." He says, smiling to himself, "I take pictures."

"Do you enjoy it?"

He thinks, taking a seat on the bed, "Yeah." Audra waits, sensing the hesitation in his answer. Peter shrugs, "I mean, yeah. I love it."

"...But?"

Peter shakes his head, "No. No, but. I love it." The water shuts off, and Audra emerges from the shower, dripping wet.

"Okay," She says, not believing him.

Peter takes a deep breath. "What about you?"

"Me?"

"Yeah. What do you do?"

Audra laughs, drying herself off, "Nothing. I graduated from Dartmouth about two weeks ago. I'm unemployed."

A grin claims Peter's lips. He holds his face in his hands, laughing, utterly embarrassed. "Right. Yeah. That makes sense."

Audra opens the bathroom door, wearing a loose tank top and jean shorts. Her feet are bare, and her hair is wet. Her clothes stick to her body as though she was not fully dry when she put them on.

"But to answer your question," she smirks, "I play tennis."

Peter furrows, confused, "What does that mean?"

Audra passes him, patting Peter's chest. Her lips curl, and her eyes are mischievous once more. "Thanks for the shower."

Peter's heart skips a beat. He studies Audra's hand against his chest, then turns his head, lips parted, eyes following her from the room.