I know how he sees me. I know the way he looks at me and I've seen that look in many a man's eyes before. The both of us under the hot shower, even though I'm technically clothed, I'm aware of his stealing glances.

Every moment not talking feels like something needs to be said. There's a knot in my stomach probably no smaller than the lump in his throat. The lump that seems to be obstructing the words he really wants to say.

I think about how he sees me. I try to see myself from his eyes and I know that he loves what he sees, and not...