He squirts some on his hand, and I hold up the mirror, so he can see what he’s doing.
“It’s really thick,” he says as he rubs it around.
I try not to giggle at the way he looks with black goo smeared all over his face.
When he’s finished, he smiles at me. “How do I look?”
“Like the best boyfriend ever. Here.” I hand him a clean towel to wipe his hands off.
“Your turn.” He picks up the tube and tosses it to me.
I squeeze it on my fingers and rub it around as he holds up the mirror with the towel covering his hand. Once my face is covered, I stand up straight and smile at him as I clean my hands.
“We’re so cute.” I reach for my phone. “Here, we have to take a picture.”
“You do realize this is the first picture we’ve taken together, right?”
I smile even bigger. “Then, it’s even more perfect.”
I turn around and take a selfie of the two of us with our faces covered.
“You have to text that to me,” he says. “I can already feel this thing starting to harden. I’ll call you when I get back to my place, and you can give me the instructions on how to wash this off.”
I raise my eyebrows and try to innocently look off to the side while rocking on my feet.
He eyes me suspiciously. “Is this the part I’m going to regret?”
I hold up the picture, showing him how cute we are together in it. “It will make great memories for sure.”
He shakes his head and walks back to his car, turning to point to me before he slides into the driver’s seat. “You owe me for this.”
“I’ll make it worth your while as soon as we’re off this quarantine.”
He stops and stares at me, his eyes turning darker. I blow him a kiss and run back inside.
A few minutes later, he calls, and I can hear his mom in the background.
“You hear that?” he asks me. “Yeah, that’s my mom laughing at me. Apparently, she’s well aware of what these so-called black masks are.”
I try to hide my giggle. “We’re creating memories, remember?”
“And meeting under the quarantine isn’t enough?” He chuckles under his breath. “I feel like I can’t move my face.”
“Only a few more minutes. We’re almost there.”
“Yeah, but now, I’m more afraid to take it off.”
I hear him walk into a room and shut the door.
“Does your mom think I’m crazy?” I ask.
“She thinks I have it bad for you for me to be willing to do such a thing.”
His response makes my heart soar. I love how open he is with his feelings. There’s no guessing on what’s going on or where we stand. It’s refreshing.
“What’s going to happen when everything’s back to normal?” I ask.
“With what?”
