First and Second chances
S. de Bomchasing his scentless mate
Luna says, with that half-apologetic tone she uses when she knows I’m right.
“Yes,” I whisper back, “but it’s his soap.”
I grab the shampoo and wash my hair thoroughly. It feels as though I haven’t washed in weeks. Then I let the lather slide down my arms and use his soap to cleanse my whole body. For a moment, I glance hopefully among the bottles, searching for conditioner. I know the chances are slim that a man would have any — but a girl can hope, right?
No conditioner. Typical.
I sit down on the shower floor as the water continues to pour over me. The warmth surrounds me, making me drowsy. I close my eyes, and before I know it, I’m drifting into a light, hazy sleep.