23. Joel

CHAPTER 23

JOEL

T here are a lot of things I don't understand about Ben's apartment, like his storage situation or his absolute commitment to the color gray, but one thing I am on board with is the water pressure. It's fantastic. The shower is hot and strong and big enough for two to stand comfortably inside.

I know that because I'm standing right behind Anna, her back to me as she washes her hair.

"Your skin feels great," I say into her ear.

"Thanks, I think."

"Definitely a compliment. I could touch you all day."

To prove my point, I wrap my arms around her again, pulling her in close to my chest. Her wet hair slaps against my shoulder as she leans back into me, her hands on mine. I lean down to kiss her neck, getting a mouthful of water and hair but I don't care. I've never been a huge fan of shower sex — it's always way less practical than people try to make it seem. But I'd do it if she asked me.

I think I'd do anything if she asked me. And if I said that to her, she'd laugh in my face.

No one has ever made me want to be a better person like she does. Into her skin where she won't hear, I mouth I love you. I love you .

The idea of her saying it back makes me dizzy.

"You feel pretty great yourself," she says, twirling around in my arms to face me, blinking water out of her eyes. I lean down to kiss her and she melts into it, her hands splayed on my back, steam rising between us, literally.

"We should turn off the water if we're going to keep going," I whisper.

"Why, afraid of the water bill?"

Smiling, I kiss her forehead. "No, I don't want to slip over and die."

"That would make a hell of a headline," she grins, pulling away from me to turn the shower off. The head drips a few times, water splashing onto the drain.

"It sure would. Plus, kissing with water in your mouth is no fun."

She sticks her tongue out at me. Her face is flushed from the hot shower and as she steps out, droplets of water snake down her back and arms, drawing my attention to her ass. How am I supposed to not look? I follow her out and she hands me a towel before wrapping one around herself.

I guess I got a little overexcited last night because there are pink marks on her shoulders and collarbones like a treasure trail leading down to her breasts. I want to add to them, to make snaking patterns all over her body from my kisses.

But it's refreshing to be clean, and I am tired after last night. We must have slept for about two hours, max. Worth it.

"Why," I say, patting myself dry as she loops a towel around her head, capturing her hair in an intricate wrap, "does Ben not know what colors are?"

She flicks her head back and grins. "I know, right! What's with all the gray? Like, even the towels are dull. I know red's his favorite color, but it's like he's trying to live in some weird minimalist fantasy."

"What's your favorite color?"

Without hesitation, she answers, "Orange."

"But you wear loads of blue."

She shakes her head at my confusion. "It suits me more." She opens a cupboard, frowns, and shuts it again. "Why isn't there a hairdryer in here?"

"Because Ben doesn't have any hair," I say, which gets me frowned at even more.

As Anna keeps hunting, I let myself watch her, trace the slopes of her shoulders and the back of her neck with my eyes. She hasn't got perfect skin — in fact, nothing is perfect about her, but I don't want her to be.

All the perfect women I've ever brought home have lasted a day or two at most, their bodies fun for an evening but their personalities leaving a lot to be desired. Some of them were even interesting, but I attract the kind of person who wants to suck up to me and take a juicy paycheck. That, or the kind of person who is outrageously inappropriate for the family name. My father always loves tattoos and piercings and hippies.

But Anna isn't any of that. It's like she can't see the money and for some reason my own personality hasn't scared her off. I want to bask in this for as long as I can before she comes to her senses and gets tired of me.

She wants a guy who can look out for her, to support her and love her. Not some guy who gets drunk in casinos three times a week.

In fact, I've barely even had a sip of alcohol in days. I'm weirdly clear-headed and the worst bit is, I think I like it. I think I might be ready to change, for good.

The hunt for a hairdryer unsuccessful, Anna sighs and slams a cupboard shut. She unwraps her hair and rubs it in the towel, leaving it frizzy and wild. She tries her best to tame it with her hands but it doesn't obey. Resigned, she picks up her yoga pants and shimmies them on.

Much as I love her naked body and would love for us to both be naked all the time, I follow suit, slipping into my own green track pants and T-shirt of a band I've never heard of. I think it was a gift.

"I don't know about you," I say, reaching out for her hand. She slots her fingers between mine like a key into a lock. "But I want to lie down on the sofa for the rest of the day and not move an inch."

"Sounds perfect," she says, squeezing my hand and dragging me out of the steamy bathroom.

We flop onto the sofa in a pile of tangled limbs, wrestling until finally she gets comfortable with her head on my lap, her damp hair seeping into my pants. I play with it anyway, stroking her head with my fingers.

"What do you wanna watch?" I ask.

She shrugs. "Doesn't matter."

Sinking back into the cushions, I flick through some channels. Really, I know exactly what I want to watch but it's a totally secret guilty pleasure. And yet… Anna has already seen my bare soul, so one more embarrassment doesn't feel hard to take. "Don't laugh, but how do you feel about crappy dating shows?"

She rolls over to stare up at me, her green eyes wide in surprise. "You like reality TV?"

"Shut up," I say, cringing.

"No, I mean, yeah! Have you been watching What a Meal! ?"

I let out a sigh of relief. "Oh my God, yeah. They're so stupid, it's hilarious."

"Right? They cook just as good as me."

She laughs at that and curls back up into position, watching as I search for the show. The theme music is as annoying as the people, but it's just the right level of brainless and entertaining to be worth watching. Plus, the host is pretty hot.

Somehow, hot women seem to be losing their appeal all of a sudden. It's like having one on my lap to hold is filling all my needs.

When I got banished here, the idea of a sober week of isolation sounded like the worst punishment possible. Little did my father know, it's the best thing that's ever happened to me. I don't want to drink or go out and be stupid. I don't think he'd believe it either, that I really am changing for good. It seems too fast to really become a new person, but it's true.

All I want to do is sit here and play with Anna's hair and listen to the way her laugh lights up the room.