Stripped
Icouldn’t strip in front of Angel.
His bedroom wall sconces illuminated muscles and moles and a lot more than moonlight.
Revealing myself to someone in a romantic capacity required more finesse than this. I had to ease into it. Or at least be reassured with gentle caresses as we ushered in the next phase of our relationship. I’d probably try to whip off my top and get it stuck on my ear, mussing my hair in the process.
No.
I needed romance or a few minutes with the hot tub jets on my back. That’d loosen me up enough to share more about the real me, if not my body.
“Excuse me.” I snatched the black spandex and his discarded undershirt, then bolted into the bathroom.
Heart racing, I stripped and set my stuff on the side of the sink. I wasn’t going home in wet underwear again.
He lightly rapped on the door. “Pidge? You okay in there?”
“Y-yes.” Although I still wasn’t exactly fresh. “Can I use your deodorant?” I asked, shimmying into his clothes.
“Sure. It’s in the medicine cabinet. I’ll go downstairs and start heating the tub,” he said.
“Great. I’ll meet you there.” I gripped the sink and breathed deeply.
I could do this.
“You sure?” he called.
“Yeah.” After all, I passed Bio-Chem. How hard could it be to find a backyard hot tub in comparison?
Although I did fail in other ways. My stomach knotted. Hopefully, this relationship wouldn’t be as disastrous. We could protect ourselves, take it slow. Even if I wanted to jump him every time he touched me.
I splashed cold water on my face. “Come on, Tori. Get it together.”
Adults had sex—and sometimes even healthy relationships. I could do this.
I used his deodorant, but when I haphazardly put it back, I knocked a tub of medicine off the shelf. “Ah, scrubs,” I muttered, scrambling to organize it nicely again.
I put the bottle on the shelf with the label out, like we had to in school.
Antidepressant.
I gasped. I didn’t mean to read it. I shouldn’t have. His medication regimen was private, even if he had given me permission to go into his medicine cabinet. I snapped it shut, guilt-ridden adrenaline coursing through my veins.
Had med school driven him to depression or had he always suffered from it? As much his mother loved him, and as nice as this house was now, they must’ve had their share of hardships. But he’d figured out a way to manage them.
Maybe he could understand what happened with me and med school. Why I left. Why I might not go back.
I headed downstairs, determined to tell him the truth of the matter.
Through the patio door, the gurgle of jets and the sight of a beautiful man beckoned me over. Angel lounged in the hot tub, idly running his fingers over the bubbles. The swirling waters shielded me from knowing if he was naked, but seeing as I’d chosen to wear something, I bet he did too.
I padded across the smooth stone patio. “Angel?”
He smiled, rainbow lights dancing across his skin. “Hey, pidge.”
I bit my lip. Why hadn’t I ever seen signs he’d been struggling? I must've been too distracted by the playful glint in his eyes to notice the bags underneath them.
Then again, I’d ignored my body’s warning signs that I wasn’t doing well. Maybe I wasn’t meant to work in medical care.
