If there was one thing you loved the most about Winston, it was the fact that he took such good care of his skin; in fact, he quite possibly took better care of his skin than you. You washed your face morning and night, toned, moisturized, and you did everything you needed to do, but Winston’s skin always just seemed to be better than yours. You admired that he took such pride in his look, but it made it a little hard considering you were always comparing yourself to his skin. It glowed in the sun, it was smooth as butter, and it was just luscious to look at. He wanted to know all the secrets, his tips, and the tricks to the trade; however, you were afraid to ask because you didn’t want him to know about your insecurities. After all, Winston was so sure of himself and encouraged you to be too. He hated when you doubted yourself, so you figured asking him about skincare routines would lead him to worry that you were beginning to become self-conscious. Worse, he would worry he was making you self-conscious.
“Hey, baby! How was your day?” asks Winston. You had been sitting on your shared bed, scrolling through some social media. Winston had just finished a workout and was heading to the bathroom to clean up.
“Pretty good,” I respond. “Nothing too eventful.” He hums in response as he rinses his face. I watch him cautiously, hoping to make out some of his facial routine. As he lifts his head, I don’t notice him eye me suspiciously.
“What are you looking at so seriously?” I make eye contact with him in the mirror and my face heats up, feeling as if I got caught in some sort of naughty act. I shrug my shoulders.
“Just looking at you,” I reply. He chuckles.
“Like what you see?” I smile and nod my head.
“Always.” He goes back to continue his routine. I look back down at my phone briefly before watching him again. He grabs bottles here and there, massages a certain way there, everything he did seemed to be strategic and well placed. It was mesmerizing. “How do you do that?”
“How do I do what?” queries Winston. The heat returns to my face again as I realize I hadn’t said that in my head or whispered it to myself. “Are you ok?” I nod my head avoiding eye contact with him. I was being silly. I couldn’t even ask my boyfriend how to wash my face, but he should also be the one who asks that question. I thought back to an interview he had done. He had made a clear point about how men shouldn’t have to be afraid of taking care of themselves. He was proud of taking care of his skin. I should make him feel proud. With a sudden burst of courage, I repeat,
“How do you get your skin so smooth?” He chuckles.
“Is that what you wanted to ask?” he teases. I immediately drop my head, regretting my decision immediately. I shrug my shoulders.
“Yeah, it was,” I respond. My voice was so quiet I didn’t even know if I heard it. I doubted Winston did until I felt the bed dip and a hand squeeze my thigh.
“Look at me, baby,” coaxes Winston. It takes a second, but I slowly oblige. He smiles at me and gently rubs his thumb on the bottom of my jaw. He grabs my hand before standing up. “Come on, I’ll show you.” I smile back and follow him into the bathroom. He takes me through his routine step by step, and soak in everything he’s telling me. I see a hint of amusement in his eyes, but then again I would be too. I carefully complete the routine and when I’m finished Winston examines my face. I try not to cower under his eyes, but he was looking at me with a look I hadn’t seen before.
“You’re on your way already,” he encourages. “I’m sure there are some products of mine that aren’t necessarily for you, but we could go shopping tomorrow.” I smile up and wrap my arms around his neck on my tiptoes and pull him in for a kiss.
“And then we do face masks?” I joke. He laughs at me.
“That you’ll have to teach me.”
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