Page 57 of Giovanni
“Huh?”
“It’s a movie night, so pick something you want to see but haven’t.”
“Oh, I can’t even tell you. I haven’t been to the movies in years. I don’t even know what’s out or who’s playing in what.”
It would be an embarrassing admission if Giovanni didn’t already know how much of a workaholic I am.
“No worries, we’ll find something you like.”
He picks up the remote, scrolling through a selection of movies. His expression is focused yet relaxed. As he browses, Giovanni occasionally suggests titles, gauging my interest. I appreciate his patience and desire to find something I’ll enjoy. It’s a small gesture, but it speaks volumes about his thoughtfulness.
“How about you choose? I’m not picky. Most anything will do.”
“Are you sure?”
His eyebrow pops up to look at me. With a confirmed nod, he returns to flipping through more channels than I have seen on television. He selects a movie that seems interesting—a classic I’ve heard of but never had the chance to watch. As the filmstarts, the screen’s light adds a blueish glow to the teepee’s ambiance. We settle back against the pillows, and I snuggle into his side.
He offers me some wine, but I decline because I am too full from dinner. The movie starts, holding my attention just long enough for his body’s warmth, the night’s contentment, and the tiredness from a busy week to overtake me. I’m asleep in a matter of minutes.
“Wake up, Kac.”
Groggy and disoriented, I sit up and wipe the drool from the side of my mouth. Giovanni has already changed into some lounging pants with no shirt. The muscles of his chest and eight-pack abdominals are on full display. And when I look up at his smiling face, he’s wearing my green bonnet over his hair.
“Let’s go to bed.”
I rub my eyes, the stinging unrelenting from fatigue. His hands are extended, offering to help me to my feet while I’m still trying to get my bearings. The television returns to the cracking fire and the twinkle lights are turned off.
“I’m sorry I fell asleep.”
“Don’t worry about that. You’ve had a long week and an eventful twenty-four hours. It’s understandable.”
He gives me a sympathetic look, leading me out of the teepee and down the hallway where my bag lays open on his dresser, my night clothes are on his bed, and my toothbrush is on the counter, ready for me.
“How do I look? Is it my color?”
He strikes a ridiculous and endearing pose, the bonnet sitting slightly askew. I can’t help but laugh at the sight.
“You could be a model for them.”
I play along, too tired to care whether I wear it to bed. I didn’t last night when I fell into bed, and my hair didn’t look a completefright today. I might forgo tonight as well. He fakes a thoughtful expression, running a hand over his amazing abs.
“I think it’s all about confidence,” he says, striking an exaggerated model pose highlighting his well-defined muscles. “You’ve got to own it.”
He struts like a peacock around his bedroom, throwing his hip out like a model and doing some bodybuilding poses with his muscles flexing and rippling under his olive skin. He’s certainly stunning to look at, and unexpected humor at the most unexpected times adds to his charm. One of the many things I like about him is his ability to make me laugh and feel at ease, no matter the situation.
“You certainly own it,” I concede, rubbing at the tiredness in my eyes and probably smearing my makeup. “I’m so tired. I really don’t want to do my night routine.”
“So don’t.”
He clicks off the hallway and bathroom lights before throwing back the covers and diving into bed. When he pats the empty side next to him, I sigh, knowing I still need to change clothes, brush my teeth, and wash my face before retrieving the bonnet from his head.
“I’ll get make-up on your pillowcases, and I have to brush my teeth. It’s literally the bare minimum,” I say more for my sake than his as I try to muster the energy to move toward the bathroom.
“The pillowcases are washable. But I get the teeth brushing. I’ll wait here and warm up the bed for you.”
He snuggles against the pillows, looking invitingly comfortable while I shuffle into the bathroom. I don’t bother turning on the light, letting his bedside lamp illuminate the whole teeth brushing process. I race through it, go to the bathroom, and wash my hands while he’s sprawled out in bed, reading an autobiography about Schwarzenegger.
I return to the bedroom, quickly changing into my night clothes in the dim light. Giovanni is absorbed in his book, but he looks up as I approach the bed, his eyes warm and welcoming.
