I'm bad at remembering when to shower
and you're a clean freak.
I was grimy with sweat, filthy to the point a shower was unavoidable.
I didn't want to shower because it would mean I wasted
fifteen minutes not being with you.
But when I came back downstairs afterwards,
wet hair clinging to my neck and semi-permanently staining my shirt,
you curled up beside me.
You put the tip of your nose to my shoulder and told me I smelled so good,
so clean,
that you'd never gotten to be near me so fresh with soap before,

straight out of the steaming water.
You looked at me with eyes too hot to be warm, but not hot enough to make me blush
and you held me a little tighter,
and I told myself I'd shower every time you came over
if it got you to look at me like that again