I should be the adult in this situation because clearly he's not going to be.
But then I'd have to go back out there. Face him. Look at his mouth and remember how close it was to mine.
I check my phone. Pretend to scroll through emails. Kill time.
Five minutes pass. Ten.
I can't hide in the bathroom forever.
I take one more breath. Square my shoulders. Open the door.
Dante is exactly where I left him. Sprawled across my couch. His feet hang off the armrest.
He looks up when I enter.
"That was fast," he says.
I freeze.
"What?"
"Your shower." He tilts his head. Studies me with those too-observant eyes. "You were gone ten minutes. Your hair isn't wet."
Shit.
I touch my hair automatically. Dry. Obviously dry. Because I didn't actually take a shower.
"I—" My brain scrambles for an excuse. Any excuse. "There's no hot water."
He raises an eyebrow.
"No hot water," he repeats.
"Right." I nod too quickly. "The building has issues. Old pipes. Sometimes the hot water just... runs out."
"You forgot."
"What?"
"You forgot to actually take the shower." The corner of his mouth twitches. "You went in there to get away from me and then forgot to follow through."
My face burns.
"That's not?—"
"It's fine." He shifts on the couch. Winces slightly. "I make people nervous."
"You don't make me nervous."
"Liar."
"I'm not?—"
"Your hand is shaking."
I look down. My hand trembles against my thigh. I shove it into my pocket.
"That's the nerve damage," I say. "Not you."
