The Towel 2.3

Part 2 - Andreas II

Part 2 - Andreas II ( Español / Português / Français )

The Towel

Our home in Lima was cozy, though small. My brother and I shared a bathroom connected by doors between our rooms. Now Andreas would be sleeping close to me. I tried not to think too much about what that meant.

Back in my room, I tried to get ready for bed. I kept thinking of Adriana—her look, the ease with which she treated Andreas. I leaned toward the mirror. I didn’t recognize myself. There was something out of place, something I couldn’t explain. Not quite me. Not Adriana. Not Andreas. A foreign presence in the glass.

Half a breath. A blink. The image vanished. I was myself again. A faint creak at the bathroom door made me turn. It opened slowly. Andreas stepped in. I meant to look away; instead, I stayed fixed on him.

He was getting ready for a shower. He slipped his T-shirt off in one smooth, almost absent motion. It felt like he was following a private ritual, a habit. When his pants came down, the hum in the room rose. Not a sound. A pause opening in the room.

I watched from across the room. I didn’t breathe. I didn’t move. I stayed still. My body knew I was standing in front of something I wasn’t supposed to touch. He kept undressing, unhurried, unashamed.

Lean but solid, his body carried the marks of ranch work. He had a naturalness that went straight through me. Unselfconscious. At ease in itself. When he took off his boxers, my gaze, traitorous, slid to his abdomen. It stopped for a beat at the dark hair running in a straight line.

Our eyes met, sudden. An impact. A blow inside, like being caught. Something pressed hard in me. It wasn’t fear, but it felt like it. Heat rose up my neck and filled my ears. Everything I kept trying to hide felt, inevitably, exposed. And he… smiled. As if it were nothing. As if he hadn’t just split me open.

“Can you hand me a towel?” he said, making no move to cover himself.

His voice pulled me out of it. Steady. Unbothered. I nodded quickly, trying to recover.

“Yeah… sure,” I said, working to sound natural. I went to the closet, took a white towel, and handed it to him.

He took it naked, not a trace of discomfort.

“Thanks, Gael,” he said with a slight smile, and closed the bathroom door.

I stayed there a moment. Still. Breathing.

When the shower ended, I went for the towel. It was still warm. I stepped closer. I was about to breathe it in, then stopped.

What an idiot, I thought. I dropped it in the laundry.

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