awkward vanishing

i probably didn't need to post this scene, but i just couldn't resist. it was a lot of fun to write and it makes me laugh awkwardly every time i read it, so i thought i would share it with you! it comes right after the last scene, so you didn't miss much. enjoy!

My sweatpants were black with soot and the sweater I had been wearing was burned through in three places, so I tossed the wrecked clothes in the little garbage can. I would need to borrow new clothes for the trip. I took a cold shower this time, letting the chilled water run over the back of my blistered hand. I shampooed my hair twice, enjoying the sweet scent of strawberries, until I could no longer notice the stench of smoke. I turned the water off reluctantly and climbed out.
The only towels left in the room were a short hand towel and a tiny washcloth. If I hadn't been so emotionally exhausted, I would have laughed at the luck of the day. I pulled the hand towel from the rack and dried off with that. Just as I was pulling the little towel through my damp hair, a quiet knock sounded on the door. "Dakota?" Marc whispered. The door slid open. I screamed and yanked the towel in front of me, pulling it as far across and down as it would go. It was just long enough to cover what was necessary but not nearly enough to be totally decent. Marc stood frozen with one hand on the doorknob and one hand clutching a little pile of clothes, his face was shocked and red. His eyes raked over me, lingering for a long time on the expanse of my bare legs.
"Marc, get out!" I shrieked. He snapped back to reality and slammed the door. After a second, it slid open again.
"MARC!" I screamed.
"No! Dakota, I'm sorry!" He pulled the door closed again but it slid open immediately.
"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" My face felt like it was on fire.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! The door won't close!" He closed it again and again desperately but it continued to pop open.
"Close the door, Marc!" I was sure that I was going to die of embarrassment any second.
"Dakota, I can't!" Unbelievably he sounded almost as mortified at me, and then his voice was low, "I... I vanished the doorknob."
"UGH!" I shouted, yanking the burnt clothes from the garbage can.
"I thought... you would have a towel..." he whispered through the door.
"WELL, I DON'T!" To my horror, he chuckled.
"Well, obviously," he said, "I didn't miss that part." I gasped.
"NOTHING ABOUT THIS IS FUNNY, MARC!"
"I'm sorry," he said again, but I could tell he was still smiling, "If you hold the door closed, I'll get you a towel."
"Fine," I grumbled, pushing against the door with more force than necessary.
"And..." he continued from the other side, "I'll have to ask Haylee for more clothes for you."
"What happened to the one's you just had?!" I cried, desperate to have as much clothing as possible.
"Those are... also gone." He sounded embarrassed again, which made me feel happy in a cruel way.
"You'd better take your time because the second I have clothes on, I am kicking your ass." He chuckled again and I heard his footsteps fade down the hall.
* * *
We had packed the little car by noon and filled the tank from a gas can that Marc kept in the garage. While Marc emptied the fluid into the tank, Haylee stood as far back as possible, her eyes wary on the flammable liquid.
Peter grumbled incoherently as he climbed into the driver's seat next to his sister. He was still angry with her for ambushing him with shears after he had showered and bandaged his arm. The front of his hair had been so badly burned that she insisted on cutting it off. It now lay close to his head in untidy black spikes. I had to tell him that it looked wonderful at least ten times before he stopped swearing. Haylee had also insisted on giving Marc's hair a trim before we left, saying that all that hair would make him hotter in the desert. They had been in the bathroom for a long time when Marc finally appeared sheepishly at the bottom of the stairs. His hair was cut short to his head, standing only about and inch long at the top. As it was shorter, it was also blonder and his slight smile and bright blue eyes stood out with brilliance. He pushed his fingers through it repeatedly, not yet used to the feel. I approached him slowly and noticed that he had also shaved. His face, however, did not look more boyish for the change, but sweeter and more healthy. I lifted my hand and brushed the back of one finger along the line of his jaw. He shivered and smiled.
"I feel naked," he said, running his hand through his hair again.
"That is not funny," I growled. He laughed and went to help Peter load the car.