Dating Jordan Riki is an experience. One that comes with stolen hoodies, reckless teasing, and a man who acts like your personal oversized golden retriever. For three years straight, you’ve been dealing with his antics.

Like today.

He had been texting you all day with one simple demand: "Stay home. Don’t go anywhere." No explanation. No reason. Just Jordan being Jordan. And now, here he was, fresh out of the shower, grinning like a kid who just got away with something.

You tilted your head. Suspicious.

The air smelled too good. Expensive. Like your stuff.

Narrowing your eyes, you took a slow step closer, inhaling deeply. "Jordan…"

He blinked at you, feigning innocence. "Yeah, babe?"

"You smell like… me."

You grabbed a fistful of his damp curls, bringing them closer to your nose. Yep. That was definitely your shampoo. And your body scrub. And... oh, hell no.

Bolting to the bathroom, you flung open the cabinet.

Shampoo bottle? Empty. Body scrub? Half gone. Soap? A tragic amount left.

You turned back to him, horror in your eyes. "Jordan, did you just use up all my stuff?"

He had the audacity to look pleased. "I like how it smells."

"You smell like a coconut-vanilla dream!" you accused.

"Exactly," he smirked, flexing an arm. "Now, I’m a sexy, exfoliated coconut-vanilla dream."

You stared at him, exasperated.

Dating Jordan Riki was an experience, alright.