***
As she walked over to John’s, she smiled at the sight of the red house on the ocean she remembered from so long ago. She had always loved that house; with its tall peaks, windows looking over the ocean and quaint wrap-around porch. They hadn’t spent much time there as children, but she had always wanted to.
She stood on the porch, in front of John’s door, holding her bag of toiletries, and a large tote containing her pajamas and bathrobe. A little apprehensive, she couldn’t quite bring herself to knock on the door. She stood still, staring down at the daisies on her flip-flops.
She wondered if Paige would be there. On one hand, she wished it so – perhaps this situation would not be so awkward then. But on the other hand…
And what if she wasn’t? A sudden realization came to her – this would be the first time she and John would find themselves alone together – truly alone – within the confines of walls and doors. And what could that mean? She started to breathe a little faster, getting a little anxious at the thought. She considered walking back to her house – she could live one or two days without a shower – she wouldn’t die. Yes… that was wiser.
As she turned around to leave, she heard the squeak of the door opening.
“Are you coming or leaving?” John asked smiling. “I’ve been watching you. You seemed to be having quite the dilemma.”
Oh… how mortifying – he had been watching her.
“Uh… I thought I had forgotten something,” she lied. “I was debating going to get it.”
Although he didn’t say a thing, his eyes urged her to come in.
“This is my little home,” he told her as she made her way in. John’s home was quite larger than her mother’s and appeared to be completely redone inside.
“Um… is Paige here?” she asked, a little nervous.
“No… it’s just me.”
Her heart skipped a beat.
“Come in to the kitchen,” he said, seemingly completely unaffected. Did he not have the thoughts she did? It didn’t appear to be the case.
“Would you like a coffee, tea or hot chocolate?”
“No thanks,” she replied, taking in the room around her. “But I wouldn’t mind sitting here for a bit. It’s such a beautiful room,” she noted as she sat down at the round oak table. The kitchen was topped by a planked wooden cathedral ceiling with skylights offering the most wonderful view of the leafy branches hanging from the large trees overhead.
“This kitchen is amazing,” she offered, “very warm.”
“Thank you,” John said as he poured himself a hot chocolate. “I did all the renovations for my Mom a few years ago.”
“Well, you did a great job.”
“The ceiling was a real pain.”
“I think I’ve changed my mind,” she said. “Maybe I’ll have one of those after my shower,” she told him, eyeing his cup of hot chocolate.
“I’ll be glad to make you one,” he said, the crinkle of his eyes as sexy as she could tolerate.
After a beat or two, Sophie shot up quickly and grabbed her tote. “Could you direct me to the bathroom?”
They walked up the stairs and found themselves on the upper level. She lingered behind him, peeking into the rooms, trying to decipher which one was his. He led her to the main bathroom – a room with a very Victorian décor; a traditional pedestal sink, and a gold clawed foot tub with intricate faucets. At the sight of it, Sophie had officially changed her mind – she was not having a shower, but a luxurious bath. A smile curled up on her lips at the sight of the flowery border topping the chair railing running across the walls of the room.
“I didn’t figure you for a flowery type of guy,” she joked, trying to ease the mood. For her mind was full of him and her – and that bathtub.
He laughed. “That was my mother’s taste,” he explained. “I’ve been meaning to remove it, but it’s kind of low on the priority list,” he explained, sitting on the edge of the tub, his arms holding on – muscles evident under his thin gray t-shirt. His eyes looked gray as well in the soft light coming from the window. God, he looked good and… he didn’t seem to be planning on leaving anytime soon.
“There’s some stuff there, if you need,” he told her, pointing at the small pedestal table standing next to the tub – the selection of bath products was quite lacking; a singular bottle of shampoo, a bar of green soap, a razor and a can of shaving cream.
She smiled at the sight. “It’s a good thing I brought my own stuff,” she noted. “I even brought some bubble bath, which will come in handy since I’ve decided to have a nice bath.”
He smiled at her words. “Yes… you do that,” he said, looking at her, his eyes intense. “I guess I should be leaving.”
“Or you could stay,” she teased. As soon as the words slipped out, she regretted them. She didn’t know what had gotten into her. It must have been the eyes – and the arms – all of it.
She detected a quick glimpse of shock in his eyes, but he corrected himself swiftly. And if she knew John – she knew he wouldn’t let this little slip go. He smiled that wide grin which was so telling – it always told of imminent devious plans. He was going to play this situation for all it was worth. She just knew it.
“Why yes… I think I’ll stay for a bit. Thank you,” he said simply, getting up and taking a seat on the wrought iron chair in front of the vanity table.
She couldn’t quite look at him. Instead, she focused on the vanity table behind him; a gorgeous Victorian piece covered with decorative frames of old family photographs, and a vintage mirror.
She decided to call his bluff – there was no way he would stay. “Yes, you make yourself comfortable,” she suggested, desperately trying to speak with an even voice. “I’ll just run the water, and pour some bubble bath in,” she told him, taking out her half-f bottle of bubble bath.
She eyed him as she poured the bubble bath into the stream of the faucet. He seemed quite comfortable there, smiling ever so slightly.
Darn, he was not leaving – he was enjoying this.
Normally, she would pour about a quarter cup of bubble bath, but she decided to pour the entire remaining contents of the bottle.
She sat on the edge of the tub while the water ran, checking the temperature every now and then, completely at a loss for words. He didn’t say a thing either. The only sound was the water running, and the tickle of the bubbles forming.
“You think you’ve got enough bubbles there,” he finally said, laughing at her.
“Um…” she turned around to see large clouds of bubbles. Yes, maybe she had overdone it – but there was no way he was seeing her naked – and if those bubbles were any possible protection, she would welcome them.
“You
will
need to get naked to get in that bath,” he pointed out, stating the obvious. He was enjoying this.
She fiddled with the top button of her blouse. “I know…” she said softly, unbuttoning her button very slowly – as slowly as humanly possible.
He watched her, his eyes intense. He bit his lip. This was going just where she was afraid it would go. Her heart was pounding in response to his stare. She couldn’t quite look at him and she couldn’t quite make her fingers work properly either.
Finally, with a loud sigh, he told her, “At this rate, I’ll be on my death bed by the time you get into that tub, Snow.”
She laughed, reaching for her third button.
“Tell you what,” he said, getting up. “I noticed you don’t have a towel, so I’ll go get you one from the linen closet.”
Thank goodness, she thought, relieved – he was giving her a break.
“You holler when it’s safe to bring it in,” he told her as he left the room and shut the door behind him.
Sophie feverishly took her clothes off, fearing that he might change his mind, and return at any time.
She hurried into the bath tub and buried herself into the giant clouds of bubbles. Good, she thought, there was no way he would be able to see a thing.
“I’m good,” she called out, a small smirk on her face, her foot resting comfortably on the edge of the tub. This wasn’t going to be so bad after all.
John opened the door slowly and came in smiling. He set the large plush towel on the towel hanger standing next to the tub.
“Thank you.”
He smiled. “You better be careful, or you’ll disappear into those bubbles,” he warned her as he took a seat on the wrought iron chair.
“Uh… weren’t you leaving?” she asked, suddenly alarmed.
“I think I’m going to stay for a while,” he said, grinning from ear to ear. “You invited me… remember?”
Oh… so the game wasn’t over.
“Yes, I certainly did,” she replied, trying to appear unaffected. But this proved rather difficult since she was affected – very much so. She became uncharacteristically quiet.
“Are you enjoying it?” he asked casually. “Are you relaxed yet?”
Of course she wasn’t relaxing. She had never been so tightly wound – this bath was the least relaxing soak she’d ever had in her entire existence.
And he was enjoying every minute.
“You seem a little uptight,” he added with a smirk.
“Maybe it’s not as relaxing with an audience,” she scoffed. “Are you planning on staying long?”
He looked at her for a long while, not answering her question.
And finally, he said slowly and deliberately, “…only until every single one of those bubbles pops.”
And once again, she was without words. The room became suddenly very quiet. The sun was setting, casting a pink glow about the room. The room was darkening, which was of certain relief to her – the lighting might be more forgiving once those bubbles disappeared.
It was eerily quiet – the only sound was the soft crackling of millions of tiny bubbles popping in her ears, reminding her of her impending exposure. She noticed that she was no longer buried in clouds. They were disappearing fast. She self-consciously wrapped a leg around the other, and brought her arms over her breasts.
Was he ever going to leave?
The thought unnerved her and her breathing quickened. Her heart started to beat furiously. She couldn’t go through with this.
And just in the nick of time, he finally got up, and she breathed a sigh of relief.
He walked over to the bath, leaned into her and kissed the top of her head. “I think I’ve made you suffer enough,” he said with a kind smile before leaving.
And suddenly… she wanted him to come back.
“Did you enjoy your bath?” he asked her, enjoying the sight of her; buried in a pink plush bathrobe, a blue towel wrapped turban-style around her head, her cheeks red.
She smiled. “Well… the second half of it anyway.”
He laughed. “I’m sorry about that.”
“Why do you insist on playing games with me?” she asked, taking a seat at the kitchen table.
“That’s just how I am,” he said simply, without apology. “You should know that by now,” he added with a smirk.
“I know too well,” she replied, looking rather exasperated. It was a good question; he wasn’t sure why he loved to push her buttons – be he did – like no one else’s. He enjoyed the challenge of bringing her from slight annoyance, to sheer anger, to arousal and back again. And he fancied himself rather good at it.
“Are you in the mood for a hot chocolate?” he asked her, taking the mix out of the cupboard.
“I would love it,” she said. “And thank you for letting me take over your house. I’m just drying up a little, and I’ll get my pajamas on and be out of your hair.”
He smiled. “You can be in my hair as much as you like,” he told her, grabbing a bag of marshmallows.
She gave him a sheepish smile and looked down, seemingly not quite able to look at him. He was making her uncomfortable again – it was so easy.
He handed her a cup of hot chocolate. “With mini-marshmallows… just how you like it.”
She smiled. “You remembered.”
“I remember everything about you,” he said simply, looking at her eyes, gauging her reaction. Her gaze darkened and her lips parted and her breathing seemed to stop for a beat. He wanted to reach over and pull her robe right off – and he was sure she would let him. But the little voice of common sense prevailed – they were sitting in the kitchen having hot chocolate, after all. Why did she have this effect on him? He thought himself to be a logical, practical man who rarely lost himself to impulse – but around her…
She sipped her hot chocolate carefully, looking down, occasionally looking up at him through her lashes. “Is Paige coming again soon?” she asked, clearly trying to make small talk.
“Yep, she’ll be here tomorrow.”
“She’s so beautiful,” she said simply, taking another sip.
He smiled. She was.
“It’s funny. I always wondered if you had children,” she said.
He grinned. “You thought about me a lot?” He wondered if she had thought about him as much as he had about her.
“I did,” she confessed. “I wondered where you were, what you were doing, if you were married. We were without news for so long.”
“I know,” he said softly. “Our families disconnected, and I wasn’t close with my own family.”