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“Oh.” She raised her eyebrows. “I never in a million years thought I’d ever hear those words come out of your mouth. Any good?”

“I almost made a basket.”

“Your teacher sucks. ”

I snorted. “Take it up with the student.”

“I don’t think my hand-eye coordination is very good. Let’s all pray that that’s something that can be taught,” Maya admitted. “We’re going to go shower.”

“Okay, have fun,” Iris half-sang as she dropped her potatoes into the pan.

I followed Maya to her bathroom, her bedroom just down the hall. I’d come to know the layout of her apartment like the back of my hand.

She turned on the water as I shut the door behind us. When she stripped off her clothes, I had to remind myself that I also had to take off my own clothes and couldn’t just stare at her.

Maya leaned into the shower to check the temperature of the water, and I couldn’t resist the opportunity to stare.

She had a perfect ass—round and softer than mine, which had become all muscle from years of hard workouts.

I’d never considered myself someone who was more into either ass or tits.

I’d never cared enough. Maya was making me realize I was into both; they just both had to be hers.

When the water was hot enough, she stepped into the shower, and I followed behind her.

Just like with every shower, I felt the tiniest bit too tall for it.

I usually never minded. When I wasn’t with Maya, I prided myself on being able to take extremely efficient showers, usually not even letting the water get hot so it’d wake me up or cool me down after playing.

And when I was with Maya, I was too distracted looking at her to think about how I felt like a giant .

We’d fallen into an easy routine with showering to the point that showers by myself had started to feel boring. I was surprised by how easily Maya had leaned into patterns of domesticity with me, but I wasn’t dumb enough to bring it up until she did. I knew to appreciate what I had.

We handed each other our respective shampoos, cycling out so we both had time under the water.

When Maya started rubbing her soap into her skin, my eyes traced over the fullness of her breasts and her clear face, free of any hair falling into it like it did when it was dry.

That was one of my favorite parts of showering together.

Unlike me, she rarely had her hair up. This was my time to see her face that clearly.

I let myself shamelessly stare when she had her eyes closed and head tilted back under the water.

When we swapped, her nipples hardened from the transition into cold air. I pulled her close, letting my hands fall over her wet skin, and held our bodies together. She draped her arms over my neck, the next steps of our shower temporarily forgotten.

“Hi, pretty girl,” I said.

She looked up at me. “Hi.”

My hands traced further and further down, moving over the curve of her ass. If we weren’t careful, I knew we’d end up fooling around in here for hours—or at least fool around until the water got cold.

It was moments like this where I felt the urge to tell her that I loved her.

The words were sitting right there, at the tip of my tongue, nearly impossible to ignore.

I was seconds away from saying them at any time we were alone together, and it’d only gotten worse the more I’d gotten to know her.

She’d look at me a certain way, tilt her head a certain way, say something a certain way.

It felt too soon to say it, but it also felt strangely so right.

There were moments when it felt like the most natural thing in the world—like lying in bed with her, our bodies wrapped up in each other.

It wouldn’t even be related to sex; it was just being around her.

That was enough for me. And I knew it had to be love—or at least something close to it—because I’d never felt like this with anyone before.

I’d never had something like this with anyone else before.

We finished our shower and wrapped ourselves tightly in our towels before heading back to her room to get dressed.

We’d been going back and forth between our apartments so often that we’d been accidentally leaving things at each other’s places, which slowly escalated into us intentionally leaving things.

It made our lives easier, usually, if we had everything with us.

I was always in and out of practice or class, and she needed her things for class, too, so it made logical sense.

I also, admittedly, got a small thrill out of leaving things with her.

It wasn’t just from a practical place. I loved getting texts of her finding my shirts in her laundry, always sending a photo of her wearing it whenever she found it.

The shirts were always too long on her and fit her completely differently than they fit me.

I loved it; I wanted to make a museum of every photo she sent me of herself.

We got dressed and then headed into the kitchen, where we passed off with Iris. She gave us a small wave as she headed into her bedroom for the evening.

“I don’t have much,” Maya admitted as she looked through her fridge and the pantry. “Pasta? I can probably find something to add into it. Or I’ll make like a white wine sauce of some kind.”

One thing that Maya hadn’t disclosed to me at any point until recently was that she was really good in the kitchen.

I’d never had the time to learn how to cook more than the basics; it also wasn’t necessarily on my list of priorities.

But Maya’s cooking was a completely different story.

She’d be modest about it, but watching her move was impressive.

I usually ended up sitting back and letting her work, never of my own volition, and only ever because she never had something she needed me to help with.

I sat at the barstools positioned around her L-shaped kitchen counter and watched her work.

She was chatting aimlessly the entire time, talking to me about new shoes she was looking at online and how her mom’s new boyfriend sounded like an asshole.

I was listening intently but I also gave myself the time to admire her while she moved around the kitchen.

I stood up from the barstool that had become my designated spot whenever we cooked here and stepped toward the stove.

I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her in close to me.

Maya’s body softened as she melted against my touch, leaning her weight against me.

I kissed the top of her head as she put her hand over my arms .

I was about to pull away to let her focus again, but she held me there.

“Again,” she said, and I let myself smile freely, knowing she couldn’t see me.

It was hard to believe that this was the girl who’d said she wasn’t looking for commitment or anything serious.

I obliged happily, kissing the top of her head again and then again.

I could never get enough of the smell of her shampoo, or anything at all that reminded me of her.

I felt the urge to say to her, stronger than ever. I love you . It was right there, too much too soon, but I knew I felt it. I just had to hold on a little longer.

And I had to hope that nothing between us would change before I had the opportunity to say it.