Leaning in, he places a gentle kiss on my jaw, just below my ear, before running his finger faintly along the length of my neck. “It’s really not so bad,” he tells me, reaching for my right arm and pushing the sleeve of my shirt up to my elbow. “See?”
It takes a minute, but I’m finally able to tear my eyes away from the line of his jaw—where I’d been intently focused since the minute he started checking out my neck. I’m pleasantly surprised to see that he’s right; the rash isn’t too bad. It’s still worse than I’d prefer—because I’d prefer no rash—but it’s not quite as inflamed as it has been in the past.
“Go take care of yourself. I’ll be down here when you finish up.” He stands up straight, after giving me one final peck on the lips, and turns me toward the stairs.
“Okay. I’ll be down in a bit.”
Once upstairs, I close myself in my washroom and start the shower. I pull my shirt off and lean in toward the mirror to get a closer look at my neck. Thankfully, it’s barely noticeable, which means I’ll be able to walk around with it barely covered in order to help clear it up. If it had been any worse, there would have been little to no chance I’d leave my room for as long as it took.
As I strip down, I notice that the rash is mainly on my arms and neck with just a few very faint pink splotches on my chest. It’s so minimal that I’m confident I should be able to clear it up within a few days.
I test the water to make sure it’s not too hot, because the last thing I want to do is exacerbate the problem, and step inside, closing the glass door behind me. The cool water feels even better on my skin, so I pull my hair off my neck and let the water wash over it for a few minutes before I lather up.
After my shower, I pull on a tank top and my jean shorts before I take a couple of antihistamines and apply some cream to my arms and neck. I’m just finishing up and putting my lotion away when I realize that this day has done a total one-eighty since I woke up this morning.
Even though I had felt pretty miserable that I had potentially ruined my relationship with Greyston, it was like we had actually opened a door to an entire world of possibilities. Then, when we stepped through that door together, everything else just fell into place. Sure, it took a minute to step around all of the crazy misconceptions we’d both formed about each other, but we eventually found our way.
And then I ate strawberry-tainted crepes.
“Stupid allergies,” I mutter, turning off my bathroom light and heading downstairs. The minute my bare feet hit the cool tile at the foot of the stairs, I call out for Greyston.
“I’m in the living room, Juliette.”
The TV’s not on as I wander into the living room, and there’s no music playing, either. It isn’t until I enter the room completely and look down from behind the couch that I see he’s laying on it. “What are you doing?”
“Contemplating a nap, actually,” he replies, looking up at me with that crooked smirk.
“Oh yeah?” I inquire, leaning on the couch back and staring down at him.
He nods, raising his arm and offering me his hand. “Care to join me?”
I don’t have to think about it long before I’m completely on board, because I’m still feeling pretty exhausted. “Now,” I say, placing my hand in his, “by nap, do you actually mean sleep?”
Catching me completely off-guard, Greyston sits up quickly and pulls me over the back of the couch until I’m lying on top of him, laughing. “How are you feeling?” he asks, running his hands over my upper arms soothingly.
“It’s not so bad,” I reply, pushing my wet hair back over my shoulder and overlapping my hands on his chest before resting my chin on them. “I’m just lucky it wasn’t more than trace amounts. This should clear up in a couple of days.”
“That’s good.” Greyston’s hands move down my ribs, his thumbs grazing the sides of my breasts, before they glide over my back and come to a full stop on my ass. The right side of his mouth quirks up, as does his eyebrow. “I should probably tell you that these shorts are just plain cruel.” His fingers do a familiar little dance along the frayed edge of the denim, making me quiver.
“Oh?” I inquire, and he simply nods, his fingers still trailing along the back of my thigh. “Well, I can go change if they’re going to pose a problem.” I’m only teasing, but Greyston reacts as though I might actually follow through.
His hands grip my ass firmly, trying to hold me in place, but only making me think about taking him on the couch right now. “Don’t even think about it.”