The Psychology of Falling in Love

XXX. February 14th & February 16th

I shuffled around the apartment, lighting tea candles in every room. My classes ended at 2, and Claire said she would be leaving early— but she didn't specify when. This was going to be our first Valentine's Day and I wanted to set the perfect ambience before she had a chance to come home.

A knock on the door caused my heart to jump. I meandered over and looked through the peephole to see a teenager, bored and unenthused, with a paper bag of groceries in their hand. I chuckled and unlocked the door, opening it with a smile. I took our groceries and thanked him before sliding him an extra cash tip of $10.

Tonight's dinner was pan-seared lemon pepper salmon with garlic and herb couscous and roasted asparagus. To pair with it, I got a bottle of sauvignon blanc— after many confusing minutes of Google Academy on what wine would pair best with salmon. Not only does it depend on how you cook the salmon, but also the flavor profiles and sides? Jesus.

I went straight to work in the kitchen, zesting a lemon and quartering it. The salmon went into a ziploc bag with the lemony-goodness. Always an overachiever, I brought out the mortar and pestle to grind my own pepper. I rolled my eyes as something Lorraine said many months ago floated around in my consciousness:

"Nothing you do for a woman should be considered too much effort."

After a few minutes of sneezing into the crook of my arm, I had enough peppercorns ground up and slipped the nasal-agitating powder into the ziploc bag. A little bit of worcestershire sauce, a dash or two of olive oil, some salt, garlic, and cayenne joined the mix. I massaged the marinade into the fish filets and set the bag in the fridge.

As I finished washing my hands, there was another knock on the door. This time, I was truly perplexed— I wasn't expecting anything, and I doubted that Claire would order something unless it came gift wrapped. I sidled over and looked through the peephole, bemused at the lack of a body in front of it. I opened the door, allowing the heat from the apartment to tango with the chill of the air, and stepped out to look around.

Gloved hands wrapped around my torso and I gasped. "Happy Valentine's, my love!"

"You are evil," I grumbled.

"And you smell like lemon...and fish," she mumbled into my shoulder. "I'm cold."

"I am what I eat," I muttered, barking out a laugh as Claire swatted at my ass while I slid away.

I looked at the time. Almost 4, too early to eat. I hummed and hawed, thinking about what to do between now and then. A lightbulb clicked inside my head.

"Hey, Sweets," I called out to her.

"Yeah?"

"Join me for a bath?" I rounded the corner into our bedroom and gave her puppy dog eyes.

Claire's lips pursed and she looked up, tapping one finger on her chin. I went up to her and rested my hands on her love handles, kneading up her sides. She melted against my touch and I smirked.

I leaned down and murmured into her ear, "I'll go ahead and run the water."

While the tub was filling, I took out the accessories I purchased specifically for today. I sprinkled epsom salt into the water, then poured the eucalyptus bubble bath.

My hand dipped below the layer of steam and I hissed against the heat of the liquid below. Satan's fucking saliva, alright.

"Mmm, it smells good," Claire groaned.

I turned around and my brain glitched. In front of me was the most beautiful masterpiece I had ever seen. She was dressed in thin red lace lingerie. Her dark areolas were puckered under the fabric, topped by perfect little pebbles.