I jerk back, startled—and there he is.
Zach.
His eyes go wide, just as shocked to see me as I am to see him. One arm is frozen mid-motion, T-shirt bunched in his fist, like I've just interrupted him pulling it on.
His chest is bare, all golden skin and hard muscle on full display, and the pause only makes it worse—like the universe is giving me front-row seats to something I should not be looking at.
"Caroline..." Zach's voice rumbles out, low and startled.
My throat goes dry.Say something, idiot.
"Uh—hey... sorry, I ju—just came to...uh..."
The words fall apart, tripping over each other like drunks. I swallow hard, the lump in my throat almost painful.
I force my gaze to stay locked on his face. Except there's this traitor voice in my head whispering,Go on. Just a quick look. One peek won't kill you.
Stop it. Stop it. Don't you dare—
But oh, I do.
My eyes wander, slow and greedy, down the long lines of his chest. Every muscle cut and defined like he spends his nights getting sculpted by Michelangelo himself. Lower, across the ridges of his abs—eight, not six, because of course he'd have extras, the overachiever. His skin is golden, taut, the kind that begs to be touched, licked, anything but ignored.
And then there's the trail. That maddening, dark line running down from his navel, disappearing into the low waistband of his jeans like it knows exactly what it's doing to me.
God, it should be illegal to look that good half-dressed.
My breath hitches, heat crawling up my neck.
I snap my gaze back up so fast I'm surprised my head doesn't fly off my shoulders.For the love of God, Caroline, eyes on his face. Not his abs. Not his... everything else.
Zach's lips twitch into a smirk, his eyes flicking down just enough to let me know he caught me staring. "What are you doing outside my room?" he asks, and he's beaming like I'm the best thing that's happened to him all night.
What am I here for again? Damn it...
You're here to let him explain, genius. To finally tell you what really happened three years ago. You know, closure. —cue inner sass-monster rolling its eyes.
Right. Right. That's... right.
I open my mouth, ready to answer, but then my eyes catch movement behind him. A figure in his room.
And just like that, the haze shatters.
It’s Taylor Lewis.
The sight of her standing there beside his bed hits me like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head. I look at her, then at him—still half-shirtless in the doorway. Back to her. Then him again.
And the realization slams in, ugly and sharp, like a knife twisting in my chest. My stomach drops. My face tightens. My eyes widen just a fraction before narrowing, lips pressing into a hard line.
Zach follows my gaze, and the smile dies on his face. "Caroline, it's... it's not what it looks like."
Of course.I almost want to laugh—because isn't that the classic line? Every guy who gets caught with a girl in his room.
I bite it back, though. I don't get to accuse him. I'm not his girlfriend. I have no claim, no right to demand an explanation.
But God, it still stings. Burns. Like someone just ripped open a wound I thought I'd stitched shut.
Fuck. I shouldn't have come. Stupid. You're so stupid, Caroline.
