“C’mon, hotshot. I need to wash my hair and put in a treatment. Help me?”
He doesn’t say anything, instead he cautiously reaches out and wraps his big, warm hand around mine and I tug. He lets me, of course. My five foot two couldn’t pull his over six-foot frame anywhere, so he comes willingly. And silently, I guide him down the hall, through my bedroom, and into the en suite. I drop his hand near the doorway and head toward the shower, getting everything I need set up and pulling out a stool. “You’re welcome to wait in here or out there. But…” I turn to look at him, suddenly a little anxious and not sure how to do this part. Talk freely without a mask to hide real thoughts and feelings—things I usually keep just for myself. But if he did it, it can’t be that hard. Right? And somehow it’s like I know that he won’t hold it against me. Won’t judge me or think I’m weak. So, I tell him something real. “I like your company, too, Caleb.” His shoulders drop as an easy smile spreads across his face and he lowers down to the stool, resting his back against the wall behind him and settling in. The stool faces the mirror and it’s on the opposite side of the shower, which doesn’t have any glass, so it’s not like he can see me once I’m in. Not that it would matter if he could, considering we’ve seen each other in all stages of undress, but this feels more…intimate.
I peel my clothes off without a show and without looking at him, letting him look if he wants to but not letting the tension I can feel rising between us get in the way of what this is meant to be…not that I know what that is, I just know that sex isn’t on the table right now.
I take my time in the shower, but before long, he breaks the silence. “What are you doing for the Fourth?” His voice is husky as he coughs to clear his throat.
My immediate reaction is to shut him down, snap at him that it won’t be anything with him, but I work harder to quiet thatpart of myself, to just answer him, because I think I’m finally starting to understand the more complex parts of Caleb.
“Haven’t worked that out yet. I was talking to the girls about it tonight, they all seem to have plans. Might try and convince Riley to hang. You?” He shuffles on his seat as I scrub through my hair, trying to shampoo without causing knots in my curls that will be harder to get out later.
“Meant to be going home to Chicago to see my dad.” He sighs.
“Meant to be?” I ask, letting a chuckle slip through at the melancholy of his words.
“Yeah. It’s not usually something I look forward to. I bailed last year, and he hasn’t let me live it down.” I don’t rush to fill the silence but let the words sit as I rinse out the shampoo.
“Noah and Addy will be in Chicago, maybe you guys can make a weekend of it and just pop in to see your dad. Not so sad and dramatic that way.” He makes a noise of confirmation, almost like he hadn’t thought of it and I can basically hear his thoughts tick over inside his mind.
I let the silence drip on, letting him have the moment as I massage and comb through the conditioner, scrunching and massaging the ends of my hair before rinsing that too.
After a time, with my body hairless, washed, and my hair smelling fresh and feeling silky, I turn off the water, wrapping a towel around my body and grabbing the cotton towel wrap for my hair. I scrunch and gently wring out the water as much as I can before rounding the corner. Caleb remains on the stool, staring up at the ceiling but looking wholly more relaxed than he had only moments ago. I clear my throat and his head snaps up to look at me. His eyes trail my body, far more appreciatively than they had earlier, the feel of his admiration warming me from the inside, desire a powerful flower slowly blooming between my legs.
I quickly avert my eyes and head to the bathroom counter, grabbing my treatment and comb. Before I know what is happening, Caleb is standing behind me, his fingers a gentle caress across my shoulder and down my arm. I look up to meet his curious eyes in the mirror, warm and wanting, a small uptick of his lips. He leans down and presses a soft kiss to my shoulder and I have to force myself to take a breath. This is starting to feel a lot less like friends who fuck and a hell of a lot more like something…more. I just can’t bring myself to stop it.
His hand grazes my skin ever so gently down the length of my arm to where I hold the comb and he takes it from my hands. “Show me,” he says quietly, an intimate request that has my defenses blaring a red alarm to ward off the man who is trying his hardest to climb and crumble every wall I’ve built. His stare is steady and sure, his chest pressed firmly to my back. I can’t help but give in to him.
“Okay,” I whisper back, unable to hold his deep navy-violet eyes any longer. I reach forward for the cream and show him how I do it, when and how to scrunch and comb with my fingers, and then when to use the wide-tooth comb, when to be gentle, when to be forceful. He listens actively, and then when he raises the comb to my hair, a little crease forms in his brow while he bites down gently on his bottom lip, concentration in full force as he gently works the comb through. “You can use a bit more force. If you like,” I say into the quiet peace that has settled over the room. And I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t seen it, but a small blush hits the highest point of his cheekbones. The sight alone has a breath caught in my chest, the sudden flipping of my stomach and buzzing of my skin among the other annoyingly new feelings that seem to rise with ease around this man lately.
A bashful smile spreads across his face, though his eyes don’t stray from their task. The combing could be done now, I could grab my silk wrap and tie it up or pull it back in braids, butinstead, my shoulders relax, and I close my eyes, a soft sigh releasing from my lips.
“Coconut and jasmine, smells like…” he murmurs to himself. “You. That’s what it is.”
I let my eyes find his again, tired but relaxed.
“I think we’re done,” I whisper. He drops the comb.
“That’s everything?” Both his hands come to my shoulders, pulling me against his chest as they trace a lazy trail over my upper arms.
“Well.” I pause. This is all…a lot. The touches, the closeness, and the intimate way he looks at me. I feel relaxed, and also like I’m about three seconds from having a panic attack. I don’t understand any of it. What he gets from this? Why he seems so content and interested? Like there is nowhere he’d rather be, like he doesn’t have an ulterior motive or some kind of benefit from being here. He isn’t even getting laid…none of this makes any sense.
Whatever he sees in my face must tell him of the thoughts ricocheting in my mind because he huffs a little laugh and presses another small, slightly lingering kiss to my shoulder before he backs away. “I’ll see you out there.” And with that, he turns to leave.
I clear my throat and jerk my head, not able to push the words out. When he’s gone from the bathroom and I hear him close my bedroom door, I fall forward, my hands landing on the bathroom counter to brace my weight, and a whooshing breath leaves my lungs. “What the fuck was that,” I whisper to myself.
When I collect myself, I add two braids to my hair and wrap the black silk bandanna in a neat bow at the top of my head before throwing on an old band T-shirt and boyleg panties. I grab out a pair of large men’s tracksuit pants and head for the lounge.
I find Caleb in the dim lighting of the room, sitting on the floor and leaning against the windows. I throw the pants on his lap and sit opposite him.
“You have a pair of men’s joggers?” He raises a brow at me, but I can’t really read the rest of his expression in this light. I lifted a shoulder, giving him a playful smile.
“I don’t do sleepovers, and my clothes were…well, not appropriate for the walk of shame. I had to borrow some.”
He grunts and rolls his eyes but stands, shedding his slacks for thejoggersand settling back down on the floor.
“Better?” I ask and smile at his obvious discomfort at wearing another man’s pants.
“Yeah, I guess.” He huffs a humorless laugh. “What’s this,” he says as he raises a finger to play with the bow on my bandanna.
