The Hidden

normal thing, and I’d had no idea. No idea that I might not have years ahead of me to take more baths. Years to just sit and enjoy the warm comfort of the water on my skin, the scent filling my nose, the silky sensation left behind from the oils … Normal. Everyday. Mundane things. Things I have taken for granted for so long.

“Astrid?” Caspian’s voice broke through my thoughts.

I looked up. “Yeah?”

“What are you thinking?”

I’m thinking about this piece of salt in my hand and musing over the wonders of life. “Just about how great this is,” I said with a smile. “Can you hand me that washcloth?”

He picked it up, but instead of handing it to me, he reached over the tub and dunked it into the water. After ringing out the excess water, he dabbed some soap onto it and ran it slowly over my outstretched arm.

Paying careful attention to each finger, he washed my knuckles, my thumb, my palm. Then he ran the cloth all the way up my arm again.

“I have two,” I said.

I brought my other hand out of the water, and he lathered that arm too. Laying the washcloth down, he cupped some water in between his hands and poured it over my arms to rinse off the remaining bubbles. Then he picked up the washcloth again and started on my shoulders.

Slowly he ran it down the front of my neck and then moved to my back. I gathered all of my hair and piled it high on top of my head. He dipped and swirled the cloth across my shoulder blades as I leaned forward and pulled my legs up close.

His hand moved to the front. Traveled down, and I leaned back, giving him even greater access. My knee jutted out of the water, and he followed my thigh up until he crested my kneecap.

Caspian’s face was so close that all I had to do was turn my head to kiss him. But I held out. Resisted. I didn’t want to distract him from his task …

… and then I reached for him.

Using both hands, I pulled his shirt close to me, heedless of the water stains I was leaving behind. I offered my lips as his bounty. The room grew hotter, steam from the water drifted up in lazy curls, and I wanted to crawl inside of him. To wrap him around me and never let go. To fuse with his skin.

I must have pulled his shirt a little too hard, because the next thing I knew, he was losing his balance and falling into the water with me.

Water splashed up, hitting both of us in the face, and I choked on my laughter. He laughed too, hair dripping as the water ran down in a steady stream.

Our laughter didn’t last for long, though, when I noticed that his hands, which had previously been using the outside of the tub for balance, were now using my thighs for balance.

He noticed too.

“There really isn’t enough room for two people in this tub,” he said.

“Yeah, I think I’m done with my bath now. Can you hand me a towel?”

Caspian pulled himself out of the water, then reached for one of the purple towels. Spreading it as wide as it would go, he held it out in front of me. I stepped out of the tub. And against him.

He blindly reached a hand for the robe I’d discarded and held it up to me. “Do you want …” His words died. He tried again. “Maybe this too?”

I tucked the ends of the towel against myself. “I don’t need that.”

Caspian stepped back to look at me. “I know I probably shouldn’t say this, but you look adorable.”

It was the best thing he could have said. The most perfect thing he could have said, because with my hair wet and straggly, the damp towel wrapped around me, and all of my beautiful makeup washed off, I was feeling anything but adorable.

I reached up and undid the towel, letting it drop at our feet.

And then … well … I kind of jumped on him.

He reached for me. Held me. And I wrapped my arms around his neck, my legs around his waist. All I could think about was how much I wanted him again.

Love … Mine … was running through my head, over and over again in a blurry haze.

He leaned back against the sink, and I pushed myself into him. Closer. Deeper. He held me in place with one arm and used his hand to run it up my leg. He skimmed the back of my knee, and I wanted to scream, Yes, as he drove me to a fevered pitch. His fingers whispered down my back, caressed my spine, and I arched like a cat in the warm sun, trying to stifle a moan.

I think I did scream then.

We were nothing but touch, and taste, and feel. The towel was beneath us. The floor rushed up to meet us, and afterward I found myself thinking that I’d never known how comfortable tile could really be.

Caspian carried me into the bedroom, and I rested my head on his chest. I could barely think. Could barely move. Could barely keep my eyes open.

The towel was wrapped around me again. I snuggled deeper into it, and deeper into him. My eyelids were heavy but I didn’t want to sleep, didn’t want to waste a single second of our precious time together.

Twining our fingers together, I moved my head so that I could hear his heartbeat. I’d only get this one chance. “Stay with me,” he whispered. “Stay awake for me.”

But I was already drifting away.

Sunlight was streaming in through the windows when I woke up again. I propped myself up and just looked at Caspian, lying beside me. He stretched and turned to face me, green eyes glinting in the sun.

I brushed some hair off his face and whispered, “Take him and cut him out in little stars, / And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night And pay no worship to the garish sun.”

He touched my hand and turned it to his lips, kissing my palm. “What’s that?”

“Just something I found written on a piece of paper. Shakespeare.”

“Mmmmm.” He stretched lazily, and I touched the tattoo on his arm.

“I talked to you, you know,” I mused, almost to myself. “Even though you couldn’t hear me, I spoke to you.”

“I heard every word,” he said. “Every whisper, every plea. Every heartfelt emotion you poured out to me … I heard them all. And I held them close.”

I dragged one finger down his bare chest. “You know, I’ve wanted to touch the tattoo on your back ever since you first showed it to me, and now I get the chance.” He rolled, and the dark outline was suddenly in front of me. His shoulder blades flexed as he positioned his head on his arms.

I let my finger glide, following the smooth black line as it angled in and repeated itself. His skin was warm- something I’d wondered about when I’d thought about what this day would be like.

“Is it strange?” I asked.

“Is what strange?”

“Living. Being real. Just for one day.” Now both of my hands glided across his skin.

“For the first two years, it was strange. Really strange. This year? I don’t have any complaints.”

“What are we going to do?” I leaned over him and breathed the words onto his skin, coaxed the fine muscles to ripple to life. “How are we ever going to go back to not being able to touch after this?”

He sighed deeply, but didn’t answer.

We spent the rest of the day being completely lazy. We headed downstairs and curled up on the couch to watch movies, just enjoying the chance to lie wrapped up in blankets and wrapped up in each other. I made us popcorn and brownies. And for dinner it was just simple spaghetti.

Caspian told me it was the best spaghetti he’d ever had.

As night fell and the shadows came cruelly chasing away the rest of the daylight, a dark cloud settled on me. Our time was slipping away. Already it was eight o’clock. Only four more hours to go. Four more hours left to fit in a