The bathroom was already a mess.

JJ sat shirtless on the counter, eyeing the pink headband you were trying to force onto his head like it was some sort of medieval torture device.

“No. I’m not wearing that,” he grunted, dodging your hands like a child avoiding broccoli.

You held it up again, triumphant. “Yes, you are. It keeps your hair out of your face. Pickles is wearing one.”

Pickles, your tiny puppy, was indeed waddling around the floor in her own miniature purple spa headband, tongue out, tail wagging, living her best life.

JJ gave the dog a look. “Pickles doesn’t have dignity to lose.”

You finally shoved the band over JJ’s forehead, taming his messy blond waves. “Shut up and look pretty.”

He huffed dramatically. “If I break out tomorrow, I’m blaming you.”

“Please. Your pores will thank me.”

JJ squinted at the packaging in your hand. “What the hell is a clay mask with hyaluronic acid and niacinamide? Sounds like a potion. Are you trying to turn me into a frog?”

You dipped your fingers into the jar. “Only if you’re bad.”

JJ smirked. “Define ‘bad.’”