Chapter 22
chapter twenty-two
MARISOL
Cleanser. Another cleanser. Toner. Retinol.
Eye cream. Moisturizer. I follow the routine, taking my time and letting each product sink into my skin before I apply the next layer.
Self-care has always been a method of relaxation for me.
Time when I can disconnect from the outside world and focus on me, grounding myself in the moment, allowing myself to relish in the ritual of it all.
Tonight is no different. Tonight, I’m trying to focus on the feeling of each cool cream on my skin, trying to forget how flushed it felt when I dragged my hands down Leo’s chest.
The lines between us are blurring, and I think we both know it. We’re both testing it, and I don’t know if I’m strong enough to withstand it.
I try to remind myself of all the things I said to Sabrina. All the reasons why making this whole thing real would be a bad idea. But I can’t remember a single one, aside from the fact that I don’t want to jeopardize what we have now.
Our bargain, but also our friendship. Leo has always been in my life, and he always will be.
How awkward would Christmas be if Leo and I spent one night together and then realized there was nothing between us but years’ worth of a friendship that got confused because of this ridiculous publicity stunt?
What if all of this tension boils down to nothing?
But that is not at all what I imagine.
I imagine Leo’s hot breath caressing my skin. I imagine wandering hands, and my tongue finding a home in his mouth. I imagine hours spent wondering why we never did this before now. I imagine running my tongue over the ridges of his body and his hands in my hair.
Fuck.
I feel like I’m burning up from the inside. I need another shower—a cold one.
I’ve always looked at Leo as a friend, as someone I was always told—by Rafael—was absolutely off limits.
But when I was a teenager, that was exciting.
I wanted to ruin whatever friendship Leo and I had just to know what it would feel like to have him look at me like something more.
But I’m coming to realize that Leo has always looked at me like something more.
He’s always looked at me the way he looked at me today in the park.
I think I just never saw it. But now I do, now I see it, see him, and I don’t know how I was ever so blind.
I twist the top off of my body moisturizer, the sweet smell of vanilla caramel filling the room.
“So what is all of this?” I trip over the bath mat in shock as I turn to see Leo leaning up against the frame of the bathroom door.
“Cazzo, Leo!” I sigh. “Can you learn how to knock?”
A smirk pulls the corner of his mouth up. “I mean, I could, but this is so much more fun.”
I roll my eyes and turn back to the mirror. He takes that as an invitation and gets comfortable on the closed toilet seat. This guy and déjà vu.
I slide my eyes over to where he waits patiently for my response. “Well, they all have different purposes.”
He leans his elbow on the edge of the vanity. “Enlighten me.”
I raise my brows. “You really want to know?” He nods, and I sigh. “Well, obviously you have to clean your face first,” I say, holding up my cleanser.
“Naturally,” he responds.
“Then you kind of work with a thinnest to thickest method.” His eyes narrow. “You don’t want to put a thick moisturizer on before a thin toner because it won’t soak in. The toner would have to find its way through the moisturizer to get to your skin.”
“Right,” he says. “Makes sense.”
“So cleanser, then toner,” I say, holding up the respective products. “Next is any kind of active serum or exfoliator. I use retinol.”
“Obviously,” he chirps, and I have to swallow my smile.
“Then an eye cream if you fancy, and finish it all off with your moisturizer.”
Leo nods repeatedly, surveying the lineup of products. “So, do I need to be doing all of this? Is that what’s going to take me to the next level aesthetically?”
I scoff, and his brows lift, eyes sparkling with amusement. “No, you don’t—You don’t need any of this, Leo.” I can’t take my eyes from him.
“And what step are you up to now?” he asks.
“Oh, uh—” I break eye contact. “I’m done with all that. I just need to moisturize my body.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I find myself wishing I could stuff them back in.
“Right,” he utters. Suddenly, it feels like someone plugged in sixty of those little portable heaters in this room alone.
Leo’s eyes slide down my body, which is scarcely covered with a pink silk robe.
Make that sixty-one portable heaters.
I find myself imagining him tugging on the tie around my waist and sliding the fabric off my shoulders.
My breath feels ragged as he looks to the open jar of moisturizer on the vanity. “With this?”
“Mmhmm.” I clear my throat.
He blinks slowly as he picks it up. Bringing it to his nose, he inhales, his eyes falling closed as he exhales, and I feel myself flush. It’s as if I’m watching a moment I shouldn’t be, but when he opens his eyes, he’s looking right at me. “May I?”
My lips fall open as I take in his request. He doesn’t move, and neither do I. Heat prickles behind every single one of my senses as Leo bends down, his palm sliding against the back of my calf. “May I, Marisol?”
I swallow every word that could possibly leave my mouth and merely nod instead, my heart in my throat as he lifts my leg, placing my foot between his legs on the edge of the seat. I have no idea what is happening, but I can’t do anything but give in to it.
I watch Leo through hooded eyes as he dips two of his fingers into the silky cream, scooping out a dollop before rubbing it between his palms. I hold my breath as he reaches forward, pressing his hands to my leg.
They glide over my calf as he massages the moisturizer into my skin.
I have to hold in a groan as he digs the tips of his fingers into my muscles, but I can’t stop my head from lolling to one side.
His touch is heavenly, and this moment feels like worship, like a confession.
Heat builds in my core as one of his hands slides up my leg, moving up the back of my thigh. I open my eyes to see him looking up at me as his other hand follows, and I don’t think he’s ever looked so goddamn beautiful.
I ache to sink my fingers into his hair, to slide my legs over his and sit in his lap, but I keep my hands to myself and simply watch him.
His hands climb higher and higher, spreading over the top of my thigh, his fingertips slipping under the silk fabric. My breath hitches, and then he’s dragging his hands all the way back down my leg, leaving me to catch my breath as he places my foot back on the ground.
His chin is tipped up, his gaze stuck on my reaction to every movement he makes, but when he reaches for my other leg, I step back. “I can do the other one.” My breathy tone isn’t very convincing, but he just stands, towering over me with a smirk. I nearly collapse on the spot.
“Of course you can,” he says. He reaches to pick up my glasses from where they sit on the vanity and slides them onto my face. “Sleep well, covergirl.”
* * *
How many nights can a girl spend without a wink of sleep? ’Cause I think I’m creating a record over here. Except tonight, I’m not debating where Leo and I stand, or wondering what I did wrong or what he thinks about me.
No. Tonight I’m left thinking about what might have happened if I hadn’t stopped him earlier. I’m left wishing I didn’t leave behind the vibrator that May bought me for my birthday last year, because I need to let off some steam and revisit my entire life when I have a clear head.
I sit up in my bed. There’s also the alternative, and right now, my head is anything but clear. Fuck the consequences.
I push myself out of my bed, anticipation curling in my gut as I walk out of my room, past the bathroom, and reach Leo’s door. I knock. Ridiculous.
When he doesn’t answer, the rational part of my brain says I should assume he’s asleep and go back to my room. But I don’t. Something pulls my hand toward the door handle.
I twist on it and push his door open, but when I step into his room, I hear a pained groan and a small, broken sob.
My previous thoughts fall away as I rush forward. He breathes so quickly, it rivals my own as I sink down at the side of his bed. “Leo?”
“No, don’t.” He tosses his head, and his legs tangle in the sheets at the bottom of the bed. “Please,” he sobs, and my heart cracks in my chest.
“Oh my god,” I mutter to myself before I climb onto his bed and catch one of his hands in mine. “Leo, baby?”
He groans, and I place my other hand on his face. “I’m here,” I say, hoping that wherever he is in his mind, he can hear me. His brows are pulled so tightly together, and his eyes are screwed shut. I squeeze his hand as he kicks one of his feet out, as if trying to escape something.
Every single muscle in his body is taut, like he’s waiting for that feeling of the crash after the fall, like he’s bracing himself for what comes next. His hand grips mine so hard. I try to pull it from his grasp, but then he gasps, and his eyes fly open.
He lets go of my hand immediately and lays his palms flat on the mattress beneath him, as if grounding himself.
“It’s okay,” I say as he looks around the room. “You’re okay. I’m here with you.” I don’t know if I’m helping at all, but I’m working on pure instinct. He pushes himself up to sit, but closes his eyes. “You’re safe.”
He swallows as his breath becomes slightly less erratic, his eyes darting around the room once more before they land on me. He lets his head hang back like he’s just realized what happened, what I’ve seen. “Fuck,” he puffs out.
I slide further onto the bed. “Don’t do that,” I say. “It’s okay.”
He rolls his head around to look at me again, exhaustion and humiliation flooding his eyes.
“I’m here,” I say again, placing my forehead against his, the same way he did for me.
He breathes me in as my hands fall around the back of his head.
I draw slow patterns in the nape of his hair, allowing both of us a moment to come down.
Leo doesn’t say anything. He pulls me into his chest as he leans back against his headboard, his breaths finally beginning to slow.
I settle into him, letting my body mold against his, paying attention to nothing but the beat of his heart beneath my ear and the simple rise and fall of his chest. And somehow, wrapped up in his arms, I fall asleep.