“Water is wet, you mean,” she sasses.
“Yeah, basically.” Sitting up, I scoop her into my arms and carry her to the bathroom. “Anyway, I don’t want to go back downstairs.”
“Oh? What are we doing instead? Because I think I’m tapped out.”
I pause at the small grimace that flickers across her face, stomach dropping. “Did I hurt you?”
“No, I think I’m just a little sore.”
I kiss her temple. “Then let me take care of you.”
Setting her on the counter, I turn on the shower and get a washcloth. When the water feels warm enough, I soak the cloth and nudge her legs apart to gently clean her.
“I wish I had a tub for you to soak in, but it’s too small in here.”
She drags her teeth over her lips. “It’s okay. This is nice. No one’s ever done this for me before.”
I brush my mouth over her cheek, then rinse the rag and wet it again to hold it between her legs while I get us towels. Once I return, I lift the hem of the hockey sweater to pull it over her head.
When I have it off, I pause. A rough noise vibrates in my chest at the sight of the fresh hickeys dotting her neck and collar bone. Stepping close, I brush her cheek with my thumb.
“Come on.”
Taking her hand, I help her down from the counter and follow her into the shower. It’s a tight fit, but I kind of like that. Water cascades over our bodies as they press together and steam envelops us.
She closes her eyes, expression blissful while I take my time gliding soapy hands over her body, kneading her muscles until she’s fully relaxed.
This is my first time truly washing someone I’m showering with. It’s far more intimate than sharing the space because of sex or two people washing themselves.
My arms lock around her waist and I press a reverent kiss to the top of her head. She leans against me with a soft sigh while I care for her.
A profound sense of contentment settles over me and I know without a doubt she’s it for me. There’s no one else who could ever fit as perfectly with me as she does.
TWENTY-THREE
MAYA
On the firstday back at campus in January after winter break, I’m curled up on the couch with half a bag of potato chips and some leftover chocolate chips I found in the freezer, watching a Korean romcom series Hana recommended.
When another wave of cramps hits, I wrap my comforter tighter around me.
Reagan commiserated with me for a while before she had to leave for class. We huddled together beneath a cocoon of blankets while watching the first episode. Now I’m starting the third one, but things are about to get dire because my snacks are running low.
I grab my phone, ready to say fuck it and order delivery so I don’t have to go out. A knock at the door interrupts me. Sighing, I leave the comfort of my blanket to answer it.
Easton leans against the frame with his forearm when I open the door. He holds up a packed grocery bag.
“Hi,” I stammer in surprise.
He slips past me, dropping a quick kiss on my lips before taking his stuff to the kitchen island. I close the door and watch from the other side as he unloads everything.
“I wasn’t sure what you were in the mood for, so I figured it was best to cover the bases. Salty, sweet, savory.” He shakes the box of nuggets before setting them on the counter. “And I brought this heating pad from the house.”
Tears prick my eyes. Stupid hormones.
“You got me all this?”
He gives me a soft smile. “You said you had your period and were dying from cramps. Of course I’m going to take care of my girl.”
