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I do as he asks and then feel the water wet-sized body

When my hair is soaked, he steps in front of the spray onceshampoo into his hands He lathers the sha it intoyour hair washed—or brushed—by sos in the world

He uides me back so he can rinse the soap from my hair When it’s out, he moves on to conditioner I feel relaxed, but somehow excited at the same time

Whene to tease me, but it works nevertheless By the ti, wanton mess

He washes his hair next—there’s no way I could reach his head to do it—and the whole tisexual about what

we’re doing, I still think it’s theabout the waiting and the knowing that this person is special

It’s not like I have the most colorful sexual history in the world—only a few randos here and there—but somehow I know that this is different

The bond we have is unique, and while I ht try to play it off, I honestly can’t deny its potency

When we’re both clean he turns off the water and neither of us move, locked in a silent stare down I think he’s still waiting for et scared and blurt an excuse to keep this fro For years I’ve been running fro—and yet somehow, no matter how far or fast I run, I always end up back here with hi

He reaches for ht and tentative, and I relax into hi to push you away,” he whispers

“You won’t,” I whisper back

He brushes a wet piece of hair from my forehead and searches my eyes to see if my words are true

“I don’t knohy rabsmadly and I know mine echoes the same beat in my chest

“Because,” I whisper, “this is different than Vegas This is … This is …”

He places a finger over my lips “I know”