Micah wasted no time checking out the shower. The showerhead had sixteen settings! He was tempted to check each and every one out. In the end, though, he couldn’t ignore the jacuzzi tub in the corner.

After turning on the water as hot as he could stand, he stripped off his clothes and sunk into the tub. The groan he let out when the jets shot scorching hot water at his stiff muscles was practically obscene.

Good thing there was no one around to hear it.

Micah allowed himself to become fully immersed in the experience, letting conscious thoughts taper off (for once) as the water massaged him.

He wasn’t sure how long he was in the tub, but his fingertips were practically prunes when a knock on the door brought him back to reality. “Everything alright in there?”

“Fine!” Micah called. “I’ll be out in a minute!”

Damon was about the only thing that could pull him away from this tub.

Pulling the plug, Micah made himself stand as the water drained, grabbing one of the fluffy towels on display on a metal rack near the tub. After drying himself off, he used the same towel to wipe the condensation off the mirror that had built up from the steam.

He was confronted with his reflection.

Cheeks pink from the heat and dirty blond hair damp from his impromptu bath, he looked a mess. Objectively, Micah knew he was attractive enough, with a smattering of freckles across his nose and wide eyes that weren’t quite green and weren’t quite hazel either. A particularly memorable one-night stand had once called them a “kaleidoscope of mesmerizing color”.

Still, his boyish charm didn’t quite match up to the magnetism of the man on the other side of the door. Not that it mattered. This wasn’t some lurid rendezvous.

So what was he doing, examining himself in the mirror like some nervous virgin?

Annoyed with himself, Micah turned away from his reflection. There was a fluffy-looking robe hanging near the door, but it’d probably be weird to wear it, so he sighed before forcing himself to pull back on his own clothes – well, clothes the department had picked for him, anyway. The skirt was even harder to put on when his legs were still wet, but somehow, he managed.

He glanced once more in the mirror to make sure everything was in place before finally exiting the bathroom. He immediately spotted Damon in the kitchenette. Every inch of the countertop had been covered in various food containers. There was also a charcuterie board filled with meats and cheeses, a bottle of unopened wine, and particularly eye-catching: an entire tray of chocolate-covered strawberries.

Micah blinked, hesitantly making his way over to the man and frankly ludicrous amount of food. “What? Did you buy the entire menu?”

Damon frowned, but Micah didn’t think he was imagining the hint of red to his cheeks when he answered, “I wasn’t sure what you liked.”

“I’m not picky,” Micah assured, code for: “I’m poor and I’ll eat anything.”