Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 103754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
CHAPTER 22
SOSIE
The cold stone in the bathroom seeps through my dress where I sit propped up in front of the mirror. The lights aren’t Hollywood-style, but they might be bright enough for the space station to receive a signal in Morse code.
I continue to brush my teeth as I blink a few times and angle toward Keats instead of being blinded. Keats is much more entertaining to watch anyway. It’s fascinating how he performs a perfect circular motion on each tooth before moving to the next, as if he learned how to clean his teeth from a dentist in a YouTube video.
Catching me staring, he nudges my knee and rolls his eyes. “What?” comes out muffled through the mouth full of foamy paste. I shrug, enjoying the performance that would have made a great afternoon special for kids after they got home from school. Am I being too hard? Nah. I’m just amazed that he’s still perfect in my eyes even when he does mundane things.
He scrunches his face and sticks his tongue out of the corner of his mouth, causing white foam to dribble down his chin. Bending over the sink, he spits, then rinses with water from his hand, washing away the paste on his skin. Experiencing him being goofy feels like we’ve reached a new level of trust. His guard is down, and our night is finally carefree from our other troubles. At least until tomorrow, that is. But those can be handled in the daylight. I’ll take these tonight and spin them into the waking hours.
With my toothbrush still shoved in my mouth, I can only imagine I’m looking as attractive as ever. Cleaning isn’t something I typically do with witnesses around, but I love how fun and just normal this feels with him. Coming to the side of me, he leans over me and kisses the top of my head as if he is feeling the same, and asks, “You just going to stare at me all night?”
Giggling, I move my hand over my mouth just in case I end up spewing, too. I lean forward and spit out the paste. “What can I say?” I give a little shrug. “It’s a nice view.” I scoop water into my hand and sip to rinse. When I sit back up, he hands me a hand towel to wipe my mouth. It’s not lost on me that he wipes his right after like we’re a couple who share towels and everything else. Or maybe he doesn’t want to create more laundry than necessary. I prefer the former to the latter, though.
He lifts me from the counter and kisses my lips before he sets me on my feet again. The toll had to be paid, and I’m happy to pay it. “So,” I say, walking back into the bedroom like I own the place. This is what happens when I don’t have any walls to hold up around me. I become invincible. Twirling to watch my skirt float in the air around my legs, I stop and ask, “Do you have anything for me to sleep in? Or do you want me naked?”
“I, um, naked . . .” He scrapes his teeth across his bottom lip under widened eyes that tell me everything I need to know regarding his wishes.
It was a cruel setup of a question, but his reaction was worth the risk of asking. I lift his jaw off the floor while laughing. “I’m teasing. I don’t need anything to wear.” I burst out laughing again. “Kidding. Kidding. A T-shirt works if you have something for me.”
“I’m starting to question how many drinks you had tonight.” He crosses the room with a big smirk on his face. “Not that I don’t appreciate the humor, but the teasing only embedded images of you naked that I can’t seem to erase.” I watch him shift his legs right before he disappears into the closet. “I don’t have anything that’s not going to swallow you whole.”
“Whatever will work.”
He returns, but I can’t say he managed the prominent situation in his pajama pants, which he’s changed into. “I have this, though.” He tosses me the shirt.
It hits me in the face since I’ve been caught off guard. Why would I care about a tee when he’s walking around half naked now? Those shoulders of his aren’t just broad, they’re muscular with divots between the muscles. His arms are defined, with good bicep strength. But it’s those abs of his—good Lord—carved like a Romanesque statue that have me ogling his build as I’ve never seen a man before. It’s definitely been too long since I’ve seen him.
The shirt is plucked away. Analyzing my face for damage, he asks, “Are you okay? Sorry. I didn’t mean to . . . I thought you’d catch it.”