You're just sitting on the couch, reading a book, when you hear Steve call your name from the bathroom. "I forgot my towel!" He shouts. You go to the dryer, pulling out the clean, fluffy white towel. Who the hell uses white towels anyway? When you open the door to hand it to him, you see something you never expected.

He's never been ashamed of his body. Everyone knows what exists under denim and cotton and polyester. Sure, he has insecurities, but he's only human. So he's not uncomfortable changing in front of friends. You, of course, did not know this. "Thanks." He says, taking the towel and ruffling his hair with with it first, not bothering to hide any inch of skin.