Saint Valentine

4

Valentino had my clothes delivered. He sent one of his men to my parents and requested they hand over my essential items. They're neatly piled up at the foot of the bed.

"Do you mind if I step into the bathroom?" I ask. I don't know why. I don't need his permission to leave the room anymore. The rules have changed now that we're prospective partners.

"Of course," he nods. I gather my things up and enter the bathroom. I wouldn't have minded getting changed in front of him if there was no other option, but I would've asked him to turn around.

The bathroom is only slightly smaller than the bedroom and lounge room. There's a bath in here, but it doesn't look like it's been used. The shower is big. It has two shower heads — a large round one in the centre of the compartment and a detachable one on the wall. There's a single shelf stuck on the tiles, with three bottles and a bar of soap on it.

That's not going to work. I'm not exactly superficial, but I care about my skin. I use two different types of shampoo and conditioner, a facial exfoliator, a cleanser, a body scrub, a body wash, and another three shaving products. I'll need at least one more shelf, if not two.

There'll be enough room for the rest of my things in the cabinets under the sink. There are two washbasins, but it looks like Valentino only uses the one closest to the wall. I put my things down beside the unused one. They won't be staying there long. I slip out of my dress, neatly laying it over the edge of the bath. I hide my undergarments under it and replace them with a fresh set. My sister must've helped my parents pack because she sent over my favourite pyjamas — a silk set of light pink shorts and a matching short sleeve shirt. Thank god I shaved my legs this morning. I'm a little worried about taking my makeup off. I look so much more beautiful than usual right now. I wear make-up every day, but this is a lot. I look completely different. But it has to happen. First, I need to find a towel.

I head out to the bedroom to ask Valentino but hesitate when I notice he's undressing, too. He's thrown his suit over the bench at the end of his bed and is pulling his undershirt over his head, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers.

"Oh, sorry," I step back inside.

"Are you decent?" he asks, stopping me from closing the door.

"Yeah," I say. "I just needed a towel."

"I'll get you one," he throws his shorts onto the pile of clothes.

"Do you have something small? It's just to wash my face."

"Let me have a look," he disappears into the lounge room and returns with a small washcloth. "Is this alright?"

"Perfect," I take it from him. He joins me in the bathroom, seeming unbothered by the mess I've made by the bathtub. He stands behind his basin and squeezes some toothpaste onto his toothbrush. I follow suit. I would've forgotten if he hadn't done it. It's late and it's been a crazy night.

I struggle to tear my eyes away from him while I brush my teeth. I just have the perfect view of him and his reflection in the mirror. His muscles are so defined, I could count them. They're not outrageously big, but the perfect size to be hot. He could easily pick me up, and I'm not exactly the skinniest girl around.

There's a thin line of hair leading from his pelvis up to his belly button. He has hair on his chest, too. Not an obscene amount like in the 80s, but enough to show that he's a grown-ass man. And he really is. I can see the outline of his penis through his boxers. I have to look away.

I eye the two of us together — brushing our teeth side by side. We look good together. We look like a couple.

He spits his toothpaste out into the sink.