“I just added hot water, thinking it would reach the perfect temperature, but it's probably just lukewarm now.Let me top it off for you,” Zane said, settling himself on the edge of the tub and turning on the faucet.
I was at a loss for words—he had gone through all this trouble for me, simply because I had shared my longing for a relaxing bath.But as a knot formed in my stomach, I couldn't shake the thought that this moment could be for both of us.
Zane glanced at me and pulled my hand, inviting me to come closer between his legs.He wrapped his arms around me, resting his head against my chest.
“Don't look so terrified, dummy.This is just for you.I'll be on the other side of the wall, lost in a book,” he said softly, his voice almost a whisper.“But I can't promise I won't be thinking about you.”His teasing sent a wave of warmth through me.After turning off the faucet, he stood, pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead, and exited, leaving the door closed behind him.
I stood there in a daze, my body trembling.I moved toward the door, contemplating locking it, but instead opted to leave it unlocked, keeping my options open.
I removed my yellow hoodie, catching a glimpse of myself in the large mirror.The drawn window shades left the room dim, the flickering candlelight was the only illumination.I peeled off my jeans and the rest of my clothes, folding them neatly atop the sink's cabinet.Tying my hair into a bun with a rubber band I always wore on my wrist, I stepped into the tub.
The water was burning hot against my cold feet, but I quickly acclimated, sinking in until the water reached my chin.The aroma enveloped me, a delightful mix of various scents and a hint of sea salt.
I lingered in the bath for several minutes, half-expecting Zane to join me at any moment, but there was only silence.It was difficult to unwind, knowing he was so close, just on the other side of the wall.
After numerous attempts to relax, I finally surrendered to the soothing warmth, finding comfort in the water.I wanted to stay there indefinitely, but as the temperature began to dip, I felt the urge to reach Zane.
I pushed the door open and found him exactly where he said he would be: sprawled on the bed with a book in hand.He was clad in loose, thin, dark grey sweatpants and a snug light grey t-shirt, complete with a pair of glasses perched on his nose.
“I had no idea you wore glasses,” I remarked, my curiosity piqued as I stepped closer to the bed.
“Only for reading.My left eye has a bit of a lazy streak,” Zane replied with a grin.“How was your bath?”he asked, a hint of mischief in his eyes.
“A dream come true,” I sighed, closing my eyes as if to relive the moment.
“I'm pleased to hear that,” he chuckled.“Come on over here,” he added, opening his arms wide in an inviting gesture.I didn't hesitate for a second and slipped under his wing.
“I wasn't sure what to do with the candles,” I admitted.
“Don't worry about it; I'll take care of that,” he said, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead.
“What are you reading?”I inquired, attempting to sneak a peek at the cover.
“Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë.Have you ever read it?”Zane asked, his enthusiasm evident.
“No, what's it about?”I responded, genuinely intrigued.He smiled.
“You should definitely give it a try.I think I've read it four or five times already,” he said.
“But why reread something if you already know every word?”I wondered aloud.
“Because of the way it makes me feel,” he whispered softly.
“If you were a book, you'd probably belong in the dark romance section,” I teased, a playful grin on my face.
“And if you were a book, you would be my favorite—one I'd want to read again and again, every single day, every moment, savoring each page and each word until the very last one,” he replied, his voice low and intimate as his fingers brushed across my cheek.
“Hm, so it's a short story then?”I joked, trying to keep my emotions in check.
“At least a thousand pages; you're still writing your story, Luna.I wish I could be there to witness the ending,” he said, his words deep and thought-provoking, sending a shiver down my spine.
“And what if it has a tragic ending?”I asked lightly.
“No story has a bad ending; they all offer lessons and reflections.Isn't that the point?”he countered, sending another shiver through me.I tried to distract myself as an overwhelming desire for him surged within me.
“So, what draws you to this book?”I asked, picking it up from where he had laid it beside him.
“I'm not entirely sure.I think I'm intrigued by the destructive nature of love.Heathcliff is an antihero consumed by passion and revenge, and his fixation on Catherine leads to his own ruin and that of everyone around him.Heathcliff and Catherine's bond is primal and all-consuming, transcending death but destroying everything in its wake,” he explained, his gaze fixed on the pages.
