Page 139 of Play Along

“What?” she asks with a laugh. “Why?”

I drop my boxer briefs to the floor and my smile beams like a fucking glowstick from the way her eyes follow me.

“Because,” I say, stark-ass naked, “it sounds like something domestic as hell I’d like to do with my wife.”

My shower is quick, just a rinse to get the day off me, but I watch her watch me through the glass the entire time. I’m out, toweled off, and in my fresh pair of boxers in less than five minutes, because apparently, I’ve gotten to the lovesick phase where even a glass wall is too much distance to put between us.

That’s probably going to be a big fucking problem for me when she flies out to California tomorrow.

She grabs my toothpaste from the cup by the sink, her opposite index finger stretched out as if she were going to use it as a makeshift toothbrush.

“Hold up,” I tell her, rifling through a few of my drawers. Tucked into the back of my second vanity drawer, I pull out the toothbrush I bought for her weeks ago. “This is for you.”

She freezes with the still packaged toothbrush in her hand.

“Is that the right one?”

From what I remember, it’s the exact one I bought her the first night we shared a hotel room. Soft bristles. Purple handle. Well, at least, the cashier told me it was the purple-handled one.

“How long have you had this in there?”

Pulling my toothbrush out of the cup, I attempt the whole nonchalant thing when I say, “I bought it when we got home from that trip. After we went to dinner and you asked me to teach you some things, I thought there might be a night where you would stay over here.” I find her reflection in the mirror. “I had hoped, at least.”

Her expression completely melts, the sometimes-cold Kennedy not even attempting to hide how she feels. “I should’ve stayed the last time I was here.”

I pop my shoulders. “I followed you home anyway.”

“What?” She bursts a laugh. “You did not, you stalker.”

“You really thought I was going to let you leave my house in the middle of the night without making sure you got home safely? I drove by, watched you get inside, before I came back here to deal with my three drunk friends. All the while, my mind couldn’t get rid of the memory of how hard you made me come and how much I liked seeing you in those little lace panties and matching bra.”

She opens her new toothbrush and I squeeze a line of toothpaste on it before doing the same to mine. We both face the mirror, her standing in front of me as we brush our teeth.

“A little sexier than this outfit, huh?” she asks over a mouth full of suds.

“Oh fuck no. This...” I circle my finger in her direction. “This is going in the spank bank reserve.”

She giggles with her mouth full, and I swear to God, if I could bottle that sound, I would.

The rest of the two minutes is silent. Us brushing our teeth like the domestic, married couple we’re pretending to be.

She smiles up at me anytime she catches me watching her in the reflection.

I hold her hair when she goes to spit into the sink, then bend over her and do the same.

I want this. These simple, normal moments that couples have, but I only want them with her and I want them to be real.

“Let’s go to bed,” she says, putting her toothbrush in the cup next to mine. “You’re exhausted.”

I didn’t want to assume, but I was so fucking hopeful on the drive over here that when she asked to sleep at my house tonight, she meant for me to sleep next to her.

The martyr in me would offer to take the couch. Wait until she clearly states she wants me to sleep in the bed with her, but I’m too fucking tired to act the martyr tonight.

I want to sleep in my bed with my wife.

I follow her out, turning off the lights behind me. Kennedy slips under the covers to the same side she used the last time she was here, and I round the bed to mine, standing there.

There’s a part of me that’s waiting for her to change her mind. After all these weeks of me sleeping on the floor, I’m anticipating her to tell me to do the same tonight.

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