Page 28 of Afterglow
“Pretty sure you saved my ass, too.”
“After I nearly killed you.”
“Ha, true.” His laugh. What a sound. One of his thumbs picks at his lips. “Maybe we’re saving each other, Behraz.”
It’s freezing in here, and I’m melting.
“Maybe.”
“Are…are we still on for wallowing and skincare tonight?” He rises from the couch, bringing his crotch to my line of sight. Stop looking, Bea. You’re a creep. But his dick is unavoidable. How it’s being withheld in those tiny shorts is a true mystery. “Because believe it or not, I’m getting old. I think I saw a wrinkle in the mirror this morning.”
I deny him with a roll of my eyes. “You donothave wrinkles, and you’renotold.”
“I’m almost thirty,” he argues.
“So am I.”
“No way.”
“I am. I’m twenty-seven.”
“I’m twenty-eight.”
I know. Because I’m a stalker who knows how to use the internet, and you’re the public figure I’ve had an enormous crush on for about six years.
“Alright, old man,” I tease. “Skincare tonight. I’ll prep the mud mask.”
I’ll never get tired of his sweet smiles. They’re so rare and subtle. Like they’re just for me.
“Sounds like a plan.”
Ambient electric guitars play over the speaker in the living room as we recline on the couch. Cool slices of cucumber cover our eyes.
“I cand murr by fayshe,” Fletcher mumbles.
I can’t either but reply through tight lips. “Dash how you know ish working.”
He exhales through his nose. “Hurr mush lurrngurr?”
The timer goes off, and I tap his arm, signaling we can go wash our faces.
A few minutes later, we emerge from our respective washrooms.
“I think it worked.” Fletcher pats his face. “I look younger already.”
“Has anyone ever called you dramatic?”
A guilty smile stretches his clean skin. “Never.”
“Also, that was only skincare, step one.” I pat a spot on the sofa cushion next to me. “Tilt your head back.” He obeys. I do like a man who listens. “Step two is toner. Homemade rosewateris my favorite.” The small spray bottle swishes with the liquid inside. “Eyes closed.” I spritz five times and do the same to myself. “Now we let it dry.”
“This is so involved,” he concludes. “I had no idea.”
“Last is a moisturizer. Extra thick since it’s gonna be overnight, mixed in with a nighttime serum for hydration.” I offer the heavy cream and a few drops of serum in his palm, demonstrating how to mix and apply it.
“Did I do it right?” Fletcher tilts his head left and right to show me. I nod. “Cool.”
I mirror the action. “How about me?”
