He likes to take his sweet time putting on his workout clothes so I’m forced to avert my eyes for as long as possible. Because no, he never goes into the bathroom to change. He wants me to ask him to go into the bathroom. He wants me to admit I’m bothered by his naked torso. BUT I AM NOT. I take extra-long showers and steam up the whole cabin, ensuring my body wash is a lingering scent that clogs his nose for hours afterward. I bring in more wildflowers and set them up in jars around the room. That way, wherever he looks, he sees them and therefore has to think of me. It’s beautifully evil.
