POV’s Tate
I got into bed, pulling the covers over my body. I suddenly realized just how tired I really was. My eyes were beginning to droop, the combination of fatigue and tipsiness priming me to sleep. It was then that Philip walked out of the bathroom, a towel hanging low on his hips, and I wondered if I was dreaming. If I were, then that made it ok that I was staring.
He was truly gorgeous. As I appreciated his perfect physique, I noticed something that I hadn't seen in the dark outside. A few faint white lines peppered his otherwise flawless skin. Before I could look more closely, he grabbed some clothes from his bag and disappeared into the bathroom once more.
Show’s over, I guess.
When he walked back out, he rubbed his tired eyes, his dark hair still damp, hanging over his brow
