While the tub fills, I return to Vince. He’s looking at a picture on the wall. “Is this Georgie?”
I smile at the photo. It’s one of my favorites. “Yup. She went through a mermaid phase when she was seven. Had a tail for the hot tub and everything.”
“That explains the purple hair.”
“Oh, yeah. She’s had purple, pink, and teal. Sometimes, all at once.”
He laughs weakly. His skin is still way too flushed, sweat beading at his temples.
“Come on. It should be about ready.”
I have a pang of embarrassment when we enter my bedroom. It’s not messy, by any means, but still. It’s my personal space, and it’s been a while since I’ve had a man in here.
A long,longwhile.
Vince doesn’t hesitate to lower himself into the oversized oval tub, keeping his suit on.
“Splash your back and neck,” I say, opening the medicine cabinet. I’m not sure what I’m looking for, but I feel like I need to be doing something. “I know I have some Tylenol somewhere.”
“I don’t need anything.”
“You sure?”
“I’m fine.”
I pin him with a glare. There are those words again.I’m fine.
“What I mean is, I’m nothurting,”he clarifies. “I’m just warm.”
I touch his forehead, relieved that he’s already cooling down.
He scoops some water over one shoulder, then the other. I look away so I don’t stare at the rivulets rolling down his chest.
“I’ll… um, get you some dry clothes.”
After setting a pair of dry sweatpants and a clean towel on the counter for Vince, I leave the room, using the other bathroom to change into my pajamas in case he comes out.
Ten minutes pass before Vince joins me in the living room, pants riding low on his hips. Maybe I should’ve given him the blue pair, because those gray ones are a little too snug on him. It leaves little to the imagination. Good god, the guy has a thick cock.
Eyes up, Fletcher.
“Feel better?”
He rubs the back of his neck. “Aside from ruining our good time? Yeah.”
“Just think of it like the polar bear plunge, if you need to. Just a quick dip from hot to cold.”
He gives a half-hearted laugh.
I really want to ask how he’s doing, how his symptoms have been the last few weeks, but I also don’t want Vince to think that’s the only thing I care about. He’s more than his diagnosis.
So much more.
“Oh! Do you want those cookies?”
“Sure.”
I grab the cookies and some water bottles for each of us, then we sit on the couch. His eyes widen when he takes a bite.
