My mouth goes completely dry as electricity surges from my toes to my scalp, leaving a tingling trail that settles into a warm pool in my stomach. If someone hooked me up to a heart monitor right now, they’d think I was having a cardiac event. I’ve seen guys without shirts before—I’ve been to the beach, for crying out loud—but this is Theo. In my bathroom. Practically naked!
Theo’s eyes widen in the mirror when he notices me frozen in the doorway.
I should back away. I should apologize. I should close the door. Instead, I stand there like my feet have grown roots through the tile floor, unable to move a muscle.
He turns to face me, one arm bracing on the vanity as he takes out an earbud. “Morning,” he says, that familiar smirk sliding onto his lips. “You’re welcome to join me, you know.”
I open my mouth to say something—anything—but coherent sentences elude me. “I . . . knocked . . .”
“Sorry, guess I didn’t hear,” he replies with a casual shrug. And in that moment, the towel unravels from his waist, hittingthe floor with a soft thud.
I freeze, my entire body turning to stone while my brain short-circuits like someone dumped a bucket of water on a computer mainframe. Holy macaroni. My heart pounds so violently it feels like I’ve swallowed a hummingbird that’s desperately trying to escape. This can’t be happening. But it is happening. Right here in my bathroom.
Sweet heavens above, I’ve officially become every cliché in those rom-coms mom watches on Friday nights—the awkward, bookish girl who accidentally walks in on the impossibly gorgeous guy. Except there’s no director yelling “cut!” to save me from this mortification.
Is it medically possible to die from embarrassment? Because I think I’m about to become a case study. My entire body flushes hot then cold, and I swear my soul is attempting to leave my physical form to escape this situation.
I’ve studied human anatomy diagrams in biology class—clinical, educational illustrations with proper labels and everything. But textbooks and reality are completely different universes. No anatomical drawing could have prepared me for . . . Theo. All of Theo.
My brain keeps screaming to look away but my eyes aren’t getting the message. It’s like they’ve declared independence from the rest of my body.
“Oops.” Theo’s tone is full of amusement as he bends down to grab the towel and cover himself.
“Oh—I—sorry!” I blurt, clamping my hands over my eyes and stumbling backward, wishing I could teleport to the moon and never come back.
Only one thing left to do.
I run to my room, slam the door, and press my back against it. The anatomy lesson I just witnessed has now taken up permanent residence in my head. Might as well be tattooed there.
How am I to look him in the eye after that? My poor heart has been through too much excitement lately. I just need to erase Theo from my thoughts. That’s it. Calm yourself. Deep breaths.
There’s a gentle knock, and I jump from the door, my pulse spiking all over again.
“It’s all yours,” Theo says.
“Huh?”
“The bathroom, I mean.” The way he said it—I know he’s smirking behind that door.
“Oh, right. Thanks.” I don’t move a muscle until I’m one hundred percent sure he’s gone.
I spend the rest of the morning getting ready for school and feeling like I’m running a fever while avoiding eye contact with Theo. Pretty sure my cheeks burn hot enough to fry an egg every time I remember the bathroom incident. The fact that he’s acting like nothing happened, as if he didn’t just turn my brain to mush, is beyond me. How can he be so nonchalant about it?
I try hiding in my room as long as possible, meticulously arranging and rearranging my backpack until even I can’t justify wasting more time. When I finally venture out for breakfast, I develop a sudden fascination with the ceiling tiles. They’re absolutely riveting—who knew our kitchen had exactly forty-seven small water stains shaped like various U.S. states?
“Pass the cereal?” Theo asks, his voice cutting through my intense ceiling inspection.
I slide the box across the table without looking up, miscalculating so badly it nearly tumbles off the edge.
He catches it just in time, his fingers gently grazing my hand, and I jerk by hand back like I’ve touched a live wire. “Thanks,” he says, smiling.
My spoon clatters against the bowl, splashing milk onto my shirt. I dab at the spot, cursing under my breath.
“You okay there?” Theo asks, amusement lacing his words. “You seem a bit . . . jumpy.”
“Fine!” I’m anything but.
Theo’s brow lifts, but he doesn’t call me on the lie. Instead, he stretches his arms overhead, his t-shirt riding up to reveal a flash of the washboard abs I’m struggling so desperately to forget.
