The weight atop my head shifted and then my towel turban disappeared. Straggly damp blond strands feel around my face. I sat up, pushing back the whole mess. “Sorry,” he said, throwing the towel in the general direction of the kitchen counter. “I was trying to give you a comforting pat on the head.” “Thanks.” A pause. “No straight guy could stay away from that rack,” he said quietly. “Just saying.” “Not everyone’s a tit man.” “Well, they should be,” he scoffed. “Breast is best.”
