Under My Skin

Bit By Bit

I won't pretend I know much about being "sexy". I tried to look up how online, but all that came up was tips from a woman's magazine. I mean, apparently, a blow-out and a pencil skirt is all it takes, but that's not really my speed. All I know is what I like. But what I like in him isn't what he likes in me. How do I know exactly what it is he likes in me? Maybe I should know by now. He's constantly fawning over me, why didn't I write any of it down?

Perhaps I have no place trying to be attractive. It's not in my nature. I just, for once, want to feel attractive. I want to make him feel the way he makes me feel, I want him to be as entranced by me as I am by him. Even just once. I want to feel attractive to him.

I spent a long time on my appearance that day. An unreasonably long amount of time, honestly. But I felt pretty good. And that was enough to make it worth it to me.
I ironed my shirt four different times, as well as my trousers. I shaved my face with a brand new razor, I wiped down all my clothes with dryer sheets, just to make them smell extra nice. I combed my hair so precisely, you couldn't find a piece out of place, if you searched for hours.
Going the extra mile, I rolled the sleeves of my shirt, just below my elbow. It's not much, I know. It's subtle. He likes subtle. And he likes my arms. I couldn't for the life of me tell you why. And it's a big deal for me to change any aspect of my outfit. It's very particular, it has been for several years. I just hope he'll notice. I changed it for him. I did it all for him.

The moment he arrived was like a weight off my chest. I'd been counting down the minutes, since he left for school this morning. All I wanted was to see him.

"Connor!" I cheered as I opened the door for him, immediately losing the sense of cool and composure I was hoping to keep with him.

"Hey, you!" He pulled me into his arms, cheeks and nose red from the cold, trying not to let his slightly shorter stature get in the way of his technique of being 'the big spoon' as I've heard it called.
He placed a gentle kiss on my jaw, like a little gift of our union. "Somebody looks handsome today.."

"Is it me?" My smile widened, a slight giggle escaping my lips. God, that boy has me wrapped around his stupid little finger, doesn't he?

"Yes, it's you" he chuckled, pulling a hand down to my forearm

"Oh, good.. you look handsome, too."

"You're sweet.. it smells great in here, what is that?"

"I made dinner.. pasta. Well, the sauce. With squash and mint.. is that okay?"

"That sounds amazing."

"Good.. I-I like pasta..the noodles aren't ready, yet, I haven't put them in. I wanted to make them when you got home so it wouldn't get cold.."

"You're the best.. say, why don't I make some pasta?"

"Okay.. it's not a big job, I'll boil the water and start the sauce on a simmer, y-you can just pour them in."

"No, like.. from scratch. It'll taste much better."

"..You can do that?"

"Yeah. It's really easy.. maybe you could help me."

"That would be amazing.."

"Awesome. I'll put my stuff away and wash up, why don't you get some alcohol and wipe down the counter? I'll need to use it."

"Okay!"

He popped one last kiss on my lips, before tossing his bag down by the mat and heading down to the bathroom to wash his hands.

I cleaned the counter for his use, clearing the entire surface. He returned with his flannel folded over his arm, setting it down on top of his discarded bag. He took the flour and eggs from the cabinet and fridge, taking a place at his station.