Page 30 of Tossing It

Leif steps into the shower and holds the glass door open for me, all while eying my body like I’m on the menu. The steam hits me and relief from the cold eases my chattering teeth. He stays on his side, washing his body with a handful of soap, while I rinse the salt water from my hair. “Where would you like to go on vacation? Living at the beach, it’s gotta’ be snow,” he says.

I grab the offending pink bottle to wash my hair and realize it’s full. Brand new. I squirt some in my palm and begin scrubbing my hair. “Anywhere but here,” I say. “I’m not opposed to beach vacations elsewhere. No beach is exactly the same. I’ve been snow skiing once when I was young. I don’t really remember it, though there is video of me flying down a bunny slope straight into a forest. My dad had to take off his skis to go in after me. Mom said I was pretty traumatized after that and just wanted to build snowmen at the base of the mountain.” I rinse my hair out. “Probably time I try again. Maybe now that Mom is…” The words almost left my mouth branding me a selfish daughter. “Never mind,” I say. “I like this shower,” I say, trying to change the subject.

“You can live your life for you. That’s the way it’s supposed to be, you know?” Leif says, taking my chin into his hand. “Let’s go snow skiing together. A vacation.”

I smirk and swallow down the guilt. “She’d want me to try again after that disaster,” I admit. “Even if she doesn’t remember it now.” I grab Leif’s soap and start washing my body.

“I had the bathroom and kitchen redone when I moved in. It looked like the 70s puked all over everything. I’m glad you like it.” Leif clears his throat. “They told me that was the shampoo you used at the store. I wanted you to have something other than Old Spice man wash for your hair. It’s so…long and girly,” he rambles.

Grinning uncontrollably, I point a soapy finger at the pink bottle. “You bought that for me?”

He nods, not meeting my eyes. “Figured at the very least we’d go to the beach together and end up here. No one goes to bed without showering first.” He shrugs. “You have to wash your hair after the beach.”

“True. That’s very thoughtful, though. Almost too thoughtful. Like you were planning on me spending the night.” I quirk one brow. Leif looks off to the side wearing a guilty smile.

“I get what I want,” he replies, licking his lips. “Wasn’t a matter of if, just when.”

I can’t argue with that logic. “Well, thank you. I bet their heads popped off when you asked what shampoo I used. I’m surprised I didn’t find out you were shopping for me via the Bronze Bay gossip hotline. You’d be surprised how quickly news travels.”

“I may have threatened their lives,” he says.

Turning off my water, I eye him. “Liar.”

Sighing, he pulls me in for a wet, hot, hug—our skin the same exact temperature. His lips are against my hair. “Plus, I love the way this shampoo smells so much I might use it on myself.”

“So you can think of me when I’m not around?” I fire back.

He grunts. “Maybe.”

Leif wraps me in a fluffy, white towel, then snatches it away when I am mostly dry so the naked sleepover can resume. I bump off the air conditioner and open the windows to let in the warm night air. The waves echo through the living room as we alternate between looking at each other’s naked body to talking about everything. We talk about his family and upbringing a lot and I find myself wistful, yet happy. Happy he had such a happy childhood because it made him the man he is today, and wistful because it’s obvious I missed out on so much. I was forced to grow up so quickly and fully that perhaps skipping it made me who I am. When he finishes a story, I’m no longer afraid to meet his parents, nor will I ever be intimidated by his sisters again.

“There’s a game I like to play,” I say when there’s a lull in conversation.

“Let’s play it,” he says, biting his lip.

“It’s not sexual,” I explain. “Sometimes when I can’t sleep, and I’m too tired to read, I ask myself silly questions. It’s an imagination game. When I was little, I’d ask myself what I’d buy if I had twenty dollars. It was usually whatever toy my friends at school had that I didn’t. Then I got older and the questions turned into, ‘What would my perfect boyfriend look like?’ or ‘What would I do with a billion dollars?’”

“Oh, this is my favorite kind of game. Ask me anything,” Leif says, excitement lighting his eyes. “I’ll win this game every single time.”

“There aren’t winners and losers.” We’re stretched out on a cotton blanket on the floor, the television playing lowly in the background. The movie was whatever came up first on his queue, it is over now and some random show is playing as background noise. There was never any question of if we would actually watch it, we just wanted the sound to help fill the silence while we stared. Our eyes are only for each other. “So, what would you do with a billion dollars? Would you quit your job?”

“First off. We couldn’t tell anyone. Not our family or friends. We’d live off the interest. No ostentatious purchases. That’s where people fuck up when they win the lottery. The money clouds their judgement. I wouldn’t stop working. I love my job, but my hobbies would be way cooler.” He folds his arms behind his head. “We’d gift some of the money to our family and friends. In small increments, though.”

“That’s smart,” I remark. “Also, you’re saying we. Not I.”

The dreamy smile drops from his face. “Oh. Well, I thought you asked what we would do with a billion dollars.”

“I like being a ‘we’ with you,” I reply, tracing his chiseled jaw with my finger. Leaning in, I kiss his lips. He deepens the kiss, leaning into me. The news anchor on television breaks through our perfect moment. Something about a terrorist squad mobilizing. It’s just enough to remind us we don’t live in the same world we did as children. Leif pauses, listening, but keeping his lips against mine. His body goes rigid.

“What does your ideal boyfriend look like?” Leif asks, distractedly, lips still pressed to mine. It’s obvious his whole demeanor changes when his work is brought up. It’s not just his work, though. It affects everyone. I kiss his jaw. His neck. The swell of his chest, where his muscles begin. His body relaxes under my touch. Maybe this is what I offer him. Peace inside his world of war and unknowns.

“You’re fishing,” I murmur against his skin.

“Well, you’re hooking. Makes sense, right?”

“I didn’t realize what my ideal man looked like until I met you,” I say, meeting his gaze. “You.”

He peers down at me through his thick blond lashes. “I want to change my billion dollar answer,” Leif growls.

“No changes,” I say, smirking.

His face is stoic, severe, as he whispers, “If the only thing I own is your heart I’ll be the richest man in the world.”

I don’t know how I can tell from just a look, but that seems to be a trend with Leif, and I’m pretty sure we both broke a couple of rules. “Consider yourself a billionaire, fine sir,” I say, bringing his face to mine in a kiss, the news once again becoming background noise.

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