A very familiar white towel that was supposed to be—oh, I don’t know—wrapped around Dave’s waist?!
I stared at it in my hand like it was some cursed object. Like it had personally betrayed me. Which, in a way, it did.
I didn’t even dare to look up. My heart was already pounding in my throat, and my entire brain went into full system crash mode. My internal monologue was just one long, high-pitched scream.
No. Nope. No freaking way this just happened.
Dave was quiet. Too quiet. Which was terrifying.
Slowly—so slowly—I dragged my eyes upward, already regretting it, already bracing for the worst...
Still wet. Still glistening. Still annoyingly good-looking.
Now he was completely, one hundred percent towel-less.
Like, actually choked on air.
I yanked my hand back like the towel burned me and slapped it over my eyes with a horrified gasp. "OH MY GOD...PUT THAT BACK ON...WHY...WHAT IS HAPPENING..."
"I didn’t mean to strip you, okay?! That wasn’t part of the plan!" I shouted, flailing with my free hand in some dramatic attempt to prove my innocence.
"Towel." He finally spoke up. I looked confused. "What?" I whispered out as my eyes met with his. His cool mask did not slip; instead, he extended his hand, pointing in a specific direction.
My focus shifted in that direction when the towel came into sight. Realiation struck me, and without wasting any moment, I forwarded it to him.
He took it in a swift motion and wrapped it around his torso, making me sigh in relief. Standing up on my feet, I turned to leave when his voice echoed in the room.
My body froze in its position. Oh lord, what is left now? Why did I come here in the first place?
He walked ahead, turning in my direction. He stood there as he folded his hands over his chest.
Don’t. Don’t you dare look at how his veins popped up on those ridiculously toned arms when he crossed them. Don’t even think about it, Ele.
I kept my eyes strictly locked onto a totally safe, non-threatening spot on the floor. Which, let me tell you, suddenly became the most interesting thing I’d ever seen in my entire life. Wow. So much... tile. Such grout. Much wow.
"Care to explain?" he asked, voice low but calm. Too calm. The kind of calm that comes right before a storm or a full-blown interrogation. Either way—I was not ready.
I cleared my throat and prayed for lightning to strike me dead. Nothing. Great. Even God was like, "Nah, girl. You did this. Now sit in it."
"I... I was just trying to help!" I squeaked. Ugh, squeaked. Real smooth, Ele. Try sounding less guilty next time.
He didn’t say anything, just kept watching me like he could see through all my layers of panic and stupid decisions. And of course, I panicked more. Because my brain? Not helpful.
"I mean—I thought—you’re injured, okay?! The wound could’ve gotten wet and—bacteria and stitches and—I’m not some pervert breaking into the bathroom just for kicks, alright?!"
Then he tilted his head slightly. "So your solution was to bust in and rip my towel off?"
"It fell off!" I exploded, throwing my hands up. "I didn’t plan for gravity to betray you!"
Still nothing. Still watching. Still judging.
My face was burning, and I was pretty sure my soul just shriveled up like a raisin. "Can we, like, pretend this didn’t happen and never speak of it again?" I asked weakly, already inching toward the door like a criminal fleeing the scene.
But of course, Dave wasn’t done.
"I DID NOT," I corrected quickly, holding up both hands like I was at gunpoint. "NOT SAW it it...don’t you twist my words, okay?!"
He raised an eyebrow, and that stupid amused glint flickered in his eyes. Oh no. Nope. Not this. I was not about to be the punchline of his internal jokes for the rest of eternity.
"I’m leaving," I announced, turning on my heel.
"And Linda has prepared our food, so I came in to call you for your kind information!" I yelled back as I walked off in shame, trying to slam the imaginary door of my dignity shut behind me.
Too bad that door had already been blown off its hinges.
I stormed out like a woman on a mission. A mission to escape, vanish, dissolve into the floorboards, whatever was fastest.
My face was on fire, my brain was glitching like a bad Wi-Fi signal, and my pride was somewhere sobbing in a corner, rocking back and forth.
God. What even was that?
Why does gravity only exist to humiliate me?
What kind of sick universe lets towels betray people like that?
And more importantly, WHY DID HE HAVE TO LOOK SO FREAKING UNBOTHERED?
I reached the hallway and leaned against the wall, exhaling like I had just outrun a pack of wolves. My hand flew to my chest, trying to calm my heart, which was beating like a drumline in a stadium.
You’re fine. You survived. You only tripped and...
I shook my head like I was trying to manually delete the last five minutes from my brain. Maybe if I hit my head against the wall hard enough, I’d get selective amnesia like him. Sounds like a plan.
But of course, fate wasn’t done with me.
Behind me, I heard the low thud of his footsteps. My body stiffened. Nope. Don’t turn around. Don’t give him the satisfaction.
"Elena," he called out, his voice too casual for someone who had just been publicly disrobed. "Next time, you can just inform about the lunch from outside."
I made a noise. Not a scream exactly, more like a dying goat choking on a spoon.
I felt my whole body burning with embarrassment. I did not reply, obviously, as there is no specifically right answer for it, and I wanted to walk away, but could not when something buzzed in my pocket.
I snapped out of my thoughts and looked around. Huh? Why was I still standing in front of his room?
The question was graciously answered when someone smacked my shoulder. I winced as I turned to look back where Linda stood there with a ladle in her hand.
"You daydreamer, how many times should I have to call you?"