It was late, the kind of cozy nighttime where the world outside had gone quiet and everything inside felt soft and still. Elijah stood in the bathroom, leaning against the sink in just a plain white tee and black shorts, while Isabella sat perched on the counter right in front of him, her brown leggings hugging her legs and a snug white crop top resting just above her waist.

“C’mere, baby,” she said with a playful smile, wrapping her legs around his waist to pull him closer. Her bare feet dangled slightly as she leaned in and kissed him gently on the lips. “You’re mine tonight. I’m doing your hair and your face. You don’t get a say.”

Eli chuckled, hands resting lightly on her thighs. “I don’t remember agreeing to this.”

Isabella rolled her eyes dramatically and squirted some cleanser into her palm. “That’s because you don’t need to agree. You just need to stay still and let your girlfriend work her magic.”

He smirked as she rubbed the cleanser gently into his skin, tilting his chin just the way she wanted. Her touch was careful, almost therapeutic, and every few steps she’d stop to kiss him softly—on his lips, his cheek, sometimes the tip of his nose.

“Eli,” she murmured, brushing a damp towel across his face, “you have really good skin, you just never take care of it.”

“That’s why I have you,” he mumbled, eyes closing from the warmth of the towel. “My personal skincare coach.”

She giggled and reached for the moisturizer. “Exactly, babe. Now shut up and let me make you glow.”