Interesting.
He was significantly less shy last night.
I stretch casually.
He clears his throat. “You should—uh—”
He gestures vaguely.
“Cover up?”
I grin. “You’ve already seen everything.”
His jaw tightens. “That was different.”
“How?”
He opens his mouth.
Stops. Closes it.
Doesn’t answer.
I spot my yellow dress on the floor across the room and walk toward it.
I can feel his gaze on my back. On my hips. On everything.
I don’t rush.
I pick up the dress. Turn.
He looks away instantly.
I smile to myself.
I pull the dress over my head slowly.
When I’m done, he looks at me again.
Fully dressed now.
Silence falls. Awkward and heavy.
We’re like two strangers who accidentally survived a natural disaster together.
I clear my throat. “So.”
“So,” he echoes.
“We should probably get some coffee, don’t you think?” I say. “Everything is more bearable with caffeine.”
“Right. Of course.”
He gets up quickly, wrapping the blanket around himself like some kind of makeshift toga before disappearing into the bedroom.
I stifle a laugh at his sudden modesty.
This man had zero modesty last night.
