Nash
I won’t like it.
A part of me knew that if I stayed in that bathroom I was crossing a line, and there was no going back. And I would probably hate myself for it.
But still, I stayed. I could blame it on the mate bond. I could say that some strange mystical force outside of my control forced me to sit on the vanity between the two sinks and watch. I could try to say that I was compelled. But that was only half true.
I stayed because I wanted to. But I wasn’t going to like it. I even convinced myself that if I sat there, with my fingers curled tightly under the edge of the counter, that I might be so disgusted by what I was about to witness that it might shake me out of this strange and perverse obsession I had with the two of them.
I couldn’t even see them clearly. Water and s
