Love, curves and heartbreak Chapter 72

Once I heard or read, that the time in your life that was truly lived were the minutes and hours when we were happy, the moments when we achieved what we wanted, where we were joyful, delighted.

Those moments can be simple, but we are satisfied and happy. If this is true, my life could easily be summed up in these couple of days. I lived completely, and I would not change them for the world.

We haven't done anything really productive. I don't even know where my cell phone is. I don't know if we follow regular meals or if we sleep at night or during the day. It was as if we did what we wanted, we loved each other, we talked, we laughed—nothing else mattered.

It felt like a vacation but without the pressure to enjoy, to know anything, or to rest. It was literally enjoying life itself, in our company, enjoying the charm of having found each other again.

I found myself in the bathtub in my apartment, which for the first time I am using as a bathtub and not as a quick shower. I watched my fingers—they were wrinkled from being in the water for so long, between bubbles that disappeared little by little, with a delicious and refreshing aroma.

I was placid and comfortable with my back against Ethan's chest, sitting between his legs, surrounded by his strong thighs, knees sticking out of the water.

He's caressing my hair with one hand, holding a glass of wine with the other. Some delicious music was playing somewhere in my house, I guess from the speakers I left in the living room—I really don't remember.

I am so relaxed, humming the sweet and soft song while I chase the bubbles and caress his legs. If this isn't happiness, someone please explain to me, then, what the hell is it?

"I think I should put one of these in at least one of the bathrooms in the apartment," he tells me suddenly, and his voice sounds as relaxed as I feel.

I don't know if it's the lack of stress, the champagne, the warm water in the tub, or the constant closeness of our bodies, but we feel like we're living on a desert island with no worries.

"That's a shame..." I manage to answer while I lie on his chest, and he hugs me with one arm and I feel his hand rest on my shoulder.

"One of these tubs... I never imagined how useful they are," he tells me, whispering in my ear, leaving his glass of wine on the bathroom floor with a subtle click of the glass.

"It's good that we gave it a chance... although I had to drag you to it," I say, sighing into his chest.

“If I remember correctly, with clothes and everything… It is clear that a poor man like me cannot bring a glass of champagne to his girlfriend without ending up taking a bath with her,” he tells me, and we laugh.

"His girlfriend..." I repeat aloud, and he holds me closer to him. He caresses me and places his hand on my arm and then on my thigh. This intimacy is so… enticing.

"His girlfriend, his friend, his fan, his lover, his partner... we had already agreed on all your titles," he tells me, giving me little kisses on my neck that make me sigh with happiness. I love all those names and any other title he wants to add to the list. And I allow myself to be pampered by his attentions a little more.

"I never imagined being your girlfriend or having you like this," I confess.

"Why not?" he sounds puzzled.

"I don't know... I was never the prettiest girl," I say with shame.

“First, you are incredible beautiful. Second… so, according to you… only beautiful people fall in love, love, or are loved?” He asks me and I am speechless.

“Ummmm… I guess not,” he has a good point.

“Everyone falls in love, loves, is loved, to a greater or lesser extent. Some get married, some get their hearts broken, some get divorced, separated, abandoned. Regardless of how they look, don't you think?” he tells me and fills me with kisses.

I think he's right, and it's one of the wisest things I've ever heard. I can't believe I've been such a fool thinking that for years. There are proofs of what he said in every corner, at school, at work, with everyone I know.

“Couldn't you stay a couple more days? Maybe work from here? We could keep our lives responsible for at least half the day and the other half... well, go back to our bubble,” I tell him, seeing how a beautiful smile returns to his face with my request.

I am a responsible person, but like all human beings, I take a liking to this unexpected happiness, so I plan how we can get what we want.

"Something like an adaptive bubble?" he asks me amused as he hugs me and gives me a bit of his always welcome warmth.

“I think we can, I can definitely work a few more days from here. I haven't even opened my computer since I got to your home,” he tells me, incredibly unconcerned, brushing his lips over my forehead and my face.

"We can be responsible people in the real world and then go back to the mess we are in this bubble and be carefree," I tell him, and he laughs and hugs me tighter.

The following days are spent like this, carrying out our normal activities since duty calls. I go to school and work, and he connects to calls from his new job. Every morning that I wake up in his arms is a delight, it's like a perfect day repeated many times.

We have breakfast together, and he says goodbye to me at the door, usually in casual clothes, with messy hair, and every morning I think that I should never leave my apartment—the temptation to live in the bubble is terribly fascinating.

Every afternoon I come home happy, wondering what delicious dinner he is going to cook? Will I find a mischievous and playful Ethan?

Or a sweet and gentlemanly one?

Are we going on a date to see the city at night? And every afternoon is magnificent.

Those days with a wonderful routine, and I find myself on a beautiful sunny morning. I'm up early, and he's wrapped precariously in the sheets.

His skin against the sheets, his gorgeous face, his hair tangled in beautiful dark gold fibers, one arm under the pillow, the other half outstretched to where I was recently. I feel a stab of pain at the thought that it's already the weekend… and the day he leaves is drawing near.

Not everything could be perfect, he has his life there and I have mine here... for the moment. I still have a few months left in Seattle, and I wish I could divide my time between here and there.

I need to take advantage of this opportunity in this place, my most logical and intelligent side tells me. This is my moment, my chance to learn and have what I always wanted. But when I see him like this, the sunlight falling on his skin, so vulnerable, on my bed, so exposed, all his anatomy and beauty available for the delight of my eyes.

God, how difficult it is to do the right thing. I take out my cell phone and take some photos of him, at the foot of the bed—his legs, his face, and the artistic pose he has. He wakes up little by little and stretches like a cat, then opens one eye, then the other until he realizes that he is under the focus of my camera.

"Why are you like paparazzi?" he asks me, still sleepy.

"Mmmm... this is for personal use... to remember how beautiful you are when you wake up," I say sadly, caressing his legs, and he smiles. He looks at me suddenly and a shadow appears in his eyes.

"What's wrong, my love?" he asks, and I stay crestfallen.

"It's just that… I can't get the idea that our bubble is over," I tell him, trying not to sound like I'm about to cry. He comes to me.

"What do you mean? Our bubble will always be where we are, as long as we love each other and think of each other... Don't you think so?" he asks me, taking my face to look at him.

"Yes... but... I'm going to miss you so much," I say, and he looks at me worried.

"What do you think if… I come another time, after you visit me?" he asks me. We agreed that I was going to our city on the holidays.

"Would you really come?" I ask, excited.

"Of course! What else am I going to do there? I need to see my baby," he jokes and manages to make me laugh. Then he seems nervous.

“There's another thing we haven't discussed yet… when you finish your course, will you come home? To live with me?" he asks me and I stay silent for a moment.

It is true that I thought of going back, but living with him? I don't even know what to say… it sounds so perfect that it seems unreal!

“I don't want you to answer me right now, I just want you to think about it… okay? There is no rush. I'll wait for you there, with open arms... waiting for your definitive arrival in my life, my princess,” he says, caressing my hair.

"Okay, I'll think about it," I tell him happily.

“We will be together again… I promise you. Let's rather enjoy our time together,” he tells me and I give a soft kiss on his lips.

"I love you..." I tell him and he smiles. I give him more kisses and whisper, “my love,” “my Ethan.” He stares at me and has a playful smile.

“How beautiful did you say I looked? More than a museum sculpture?" he tells me, laughing.

With that, we return to this game that he likes so much.

"Well, well..." I say, raising an eyebrow and looking at him accusingly, "So now you compare yourself to works of art, what happened to the humble Mr. Fairfax?" I ask him, and he laughs.

"Mr. Fairfax fell asleep... this haughty Fairfax shows instead when you said I'm beautiful," he says. It is impossible to argue with him. He always knows what to say, besides he is naked, and I am weak and easily distracted.

"So?" he asks me without losing the thread of the game as he leans closer to me, and I'm at his mercy.

"Yes, more beautiful than the masterpieces in museums," I tell him, and he looks satisfied, but he doesn't stop there. Obviously, he loves to win. I feel the tip of his nose on my chin.

“More beautiful than… the best sunsets on the beach?” he asks me, and I can't hide my surprise. Wow, he's aiming high.

“Every sunset on the beach, you say?” he approaches me until he takes me in his arms and attacks that point behind my ear. I already put the cell phone aside.

"Uhummm," he answers delighted.

"Yes... yes, more than the sunsets... all the sunsets in the world my boyfriend" I tell him, and I'm already lost in his arms, in his lips, he doesn't give me a chance to tell him that, for me, he will always be the most beautiful thing in the world.