I could see his reflection in the side wall of the communal shower. In that moment, my heart stopped. It wasn’t the fact that he was naked, I didn’t care about that. It wasn’t the fact that I was listening to b*tchy country music that reminded me of him. It was the fact that at this moment I was completely vulnerable, open to the senses, open to the perusal of his eyes. It took my breath away, and I had very little time to get it back before he stepped in and turned on the faucet.
There was a certain tension in the air. I was the only one that felt it though I’m sure. The silence was killing me, but what do you say in a position like this. I decided to just not say anything and continue about my shower as if her were not there.
I stepped forward to the ledge and squirted a large amount of my bed head shampoo into my hand. It had such a unique sent to it, something that if you had to put a concrete name to it might be bubble gum, but smells more like what you think a goji berry tree might smell like.
“Does anyone actually know what a goji berry is?” I ask.
The words escape my mouth without me thinking about them. I had been trying to think of something clever or witty to say. Maybe I would have asked a question about is day, something he probably would have answered with “fine” and then we would have gone about our business, but no I ask if he knows what a goji berry is. Now that the damage was done I decided to look up at him to see if he was going to answer me.
“What?” He responded laughing a little as he did so. His short brown hair was wet and up in a Mohawk like shape.
“Do you know what a goji berry is?” I repeated.
“Yeah, it’s some sort of organic fruit I think. Sometimes I look at the back of my drinks and see that there’s goji pulp in them. Why in the hell are you thinking about goji berries?”
I start lathering my shampoo into my dirty blonde hair. I open my mouth to reply and soapy water floods in making it hard to speak.
“I was thinking my shampoo smells like a goji berry tree.” I said feeling ridiculous just saying the words goji berry tree.
“Let me smell.” He says as he starts walking towards me.
My inner monologue starts up saying “oh hell no. You can’t let him come over to you and smell your hair. It’s too weird. Remember you love him, you got to keep a handle of yourself or you’ll blow whatever kind of friendship you have right now. You have to stop him. Don’t let him get any closer. Not another step.”
Though I’m listening to myself and fully intend to stop him from smelling me, by body doesn’t follow that logic. He gets closer to me and I finally decide to just go with it. I lean by head down so he can smell my hair and in that moment I completely forgot our lack of clothing. Leaning my head downward was possibly the worst possible thing I could have done. I lifted my gaze up immediately to his toned abs.
“Ok, I don’t know what that smells like, but I think goji berry tree is a fair description.” He said walking back to his shower head.
I look back up to the ledge and notice his shampoo. It’s in a green bottle and has a label on it that says “Nature’s Gate.” It makes me smile knowing that even his shampoo is so him. Everything he eats and does is organic, even down to his lemongrass and sandalwood scented shampoo. As he starts to lather his hair with it I left in a cloud of that scent and I know that from this day on I’ll never think that same way about lemongrass or sandalwood. Thank god I don’t deal with those things very often.
“Hey, can I borrow some conditioner?” He calls to me.
“You want to smell like goji pulp?” I ask him, frankly surprised he would want to indulge himself in such a girly scent.
“Well, at least if I wear it, you won’t be the only one smelling like a girl.” He said picking up the pink bottle and squirting some into his hand.
“Yeah, because lemongrass is so much better.” I say to him, smiling the way only he can make me.
“Shut up.” He says laughing in a high pitched broken fashion and rolling his eyes at me.
I decide I’m down showering and turn off my faucet. It’s not that I want to leave; it’s that I don’t want to say anything to ruing this memory. I miss him. I pick up my shampoo and conditioner and exit the shower picking up my blue towel on the way out. Before I walk out the door, I linger staring at his orange towel and wishing that I had stayed, because I loved the image of our towels hanging next to each other’s so simple, so friendly and wish it could be that way forever.