Ash nods slowly, sipping his coffee. “Yeah. He mentioned you were crashing here for a while. Didn’t mention you’d be... air-drying in the hallway.”
Air-drying?! Okay. Deep breath. Just ignore him. This is fine. I can recover from this. People survive worse. Probably.
I huff. “He never mentioned you. Don’t you think he should’ve, considering you have a key and can just drop by on a random weekday?”
“You’ll have to take that up with Liam,” he says.
I scramble to my feet, heart pounding, skin on fire, still clutching the traitorous bath mat that bailed on me at the worst possible moment.
My foot lands on something soft and slippery—a donut.
I skid, arms flailing, nearly wipe out again, and comethis closeto taking out the hallway lamp on my way down.
A low laugh rumbles behind me.
I whip around, half-expecting sympathy, assistance, maybe even basic human decency.
Nope.
He’s still just standing there. Leaning casually against the doorframe, sipping coffee like this is his morning entertainment and I’m the show. His sunglasses are pushed up on his head now, revealing eyes far too amused for the situation. He looks like someone who’s never been embarrassed a day in his life. Someone who eats chaos for breakfast—and apparently brings donuts to share.
I shriek something unintelligible and dive behind the kitchen island, dragging myself across the tile like I’m in an action movie, except the only thing under attack is my dignity.
My eyes dart around. I grab the nearest object: a cereal box. Useless. I toss it aside and reach for a throw pillow on a nearby barstool. Better. Still not enough. Finally, I spot a cat-shaped oven mitt hanging from a hook and slap it over my chest like it’s going to save me from total public nudity.
"Do you mind?" I shout, trying to hold the mitt in place with one hand and rewrap the bath mat with the other. "Turn around!"
He doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t. His mouth curves into a lazy grin, and I hate how handsome he is when he’s being unbearable.
"I would," he says, sipping his coffee again, "but this is wildly entertaining."
I let out a strangled noise and stalk towards the bathroom with oven mitt and bath mat covering me.
I slam the door shut behind me and lean against it, heart pounding.
My face is on fire.
My entiresoulis on fire.
Outside, I can hear him casually moving around the kitchen like nothing just happened.
Another bite of donut.
The sound of the fridge opening.
And then, through the door—his voice again, maddeningly calm:
“By the way... you’ve got powdered sugar on your butt.”
2
ASH
A Truce
The bathroom door slams with the kind of force that says,"I would kill you if I were dressed."
I take another slow sip of my coffee and look around at the wreckage. Better clean up a bit before she comes back and maybe I can get back in her good graces.
