“You have to take off your shirt.” She said.
“Your shirt. You have to take it off.”
He pulled his T-Shirt over his head and looked at his naked torso in the mirror. The creases that had lined his stomach in college had melted together into a shapeless blob that made him wish he’d stuck to his resolution of doing sit ups every morning.
“Arms up” she said.
She leaned in, reaching around him to pass the measuring tape behind his back. He tightened his stomach.
“Stop sucking in,” she said, slapping his side. The cold sting of her hand excited him.
As she leaned in to pass the measuring tape behind his back, her cheek came up close next to his, almost brushing. He could smell her hair, the expensive, salon shampoo that she used. He’d once spent fifteen minutes in a beauty supply store deciding whether or not to buy a bottle of it. He’d only glanced the bottle in her bathroom once and he wasn’t one hundred percent positive that this was the right one, plus it might be weird for her if she came over and saw that he had a bottle of the same shampoo she did, but the idea of having the scent of her in a bottle…
Her hands were cold on his skin. He thought about how she always complained about that. She put her hands on his hips, steadying him.
“Hold still,” she said “you’d think I’m trying to give you a physical examination!”
She continued her measurements, sizing him up. He stopped breathing each time her fingers touched him. The length of his arm, the width of his chest, shoulders, back. She was standing behind him, measuring around hist chest. He closed his eyes and imagined that when she stepped back around to measure his neck he would kiss her. He saw the scene play out in his head, like the scene from a movie. The end to a romantic comedy where the cute but soft spoken young actor finally works up enough courage to make his advance on the witty yet elusive young actress.
He felt her move. Felt the tape drape around his neck and he wanted, wanted oh so badly to open his eyes. But he was paralyzed.