One Stupid Thing

A Legendary Artifact

We're back to our regularly scheduled programming! Thank you all for your patience while I adjusted things! Now, back to business...
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For what seems like the hundredth time, an anxious fist raps against the door right as I am rinsing the conditioner from the ends of my hair. A concerned voice asks, "You still okay in there?"

I roll my eyes lightheartedly. "Yes, JJ," I call back over the roar of the water. Turning around in the cramped space, I reach down and turn the knob until the shower head stops running. "Nothing's changed since the last time you asked, or the time before that, or the time before that—"

"Okay, okay," he interrupts me, getting my point.

After our perilous jump off of the end of the pier, the saltwater left the two of us in need of a shower. JJ has already had his turn, but now that it's mine, my paranoid and protective boyfriend remains lingering outside of the bathroom.

In a hurry, I towel myself dry, throw on a clean, dry pair of clothes, and open the door before JJ can get the chance to check up on me again. As soon as I do so, his eyes dart down to scan my face.

"JJ," I start, staring back up at him with raised eyebrows.

"Yeah?"

"You know that I'm not afraid of the shower... right?"

JJ reaches up and uses the towel slung around his neck to dry his hair. "Yeah... I-I knew that."

I narrow my eyes and place my hands on my hips, cocking a singular brow at him.

"I'm just worried about you, Stella," he admits.

My hard exterior quickly melts away under his sympathetic stare. Unable to look him in the eye, I avert my gaze and shift my weight back and forth uncomfortably. "This is exactly why I didn't want to tell you," I mutter.

"What? Stell—"

The pity in his eyes makes my skin crawl and I snap. "That!" I point at his face. "That... that look! I can't stand it." I turn away from him and walk back into the bathroom, picking up the towel on the floor to squeeze the leftover water from my hair so that I don't drip it all over the house. Every movement is edged in frustration.

"What look?" JJ asks calmly. He seems confused, but not offended.

"The one where you look at me like I'm an abused puppy being sold on Craigslist. I feel pathetic enough as it is, JJ, I can't have you looking at me like I am, too."

When I begin brushing my hair so rough that the bristles rip at each tangled strand, JJ strides over and snatches the hairbrush from my hand. "Hey." His voice is stern, but relaxed.

The free hand he places on my hip reminds me that I hadn't been breathing properly, and I exhale the air I'd been holding hostage. Once I've calmed down, JJ takes matters into his own hands and begins softly raking the brush through my soaking wet hair.

"I don't pity you, Stella. I care about you. There's a difference." With each brushstroke, guilt begins to creep in. JJ didn't deserve the way I treated him just now. 18 months ago he probably would've given me one of his snide remarks and stormed out of the house, and he has every right to be pissed at me, but instead here he is brushing my hair for me. He's grown a lot since then, and this just proves it.

I don't have to utter a word for him to pick up on how I'm feeling, and he doesn't expect me to. Instead, we stand in front of the bathroom mirror in a comfortable silence. Once my hair is knot-free, JJ tactfully braids it behind me. He reaches a hand over my shoulder, and I give him the hair-tie that had been sitting on the counter. As soon as he ties it off, JJ lets the braid fall freely against my back, wraps his arms around me and leans down to plant a kiss on the top of my head.