You’re still in Will’s apartment, the lingering warmth of last night pressing softly against your skin. The morning light streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows, glinting off the polished surfaces of his sleek penthouse. Will had been kind enough to offer you a shower and some time to freshen up before you left, and you’d eagerly accepted, hoping to wash away more than just the physical traces of the night.

The water had been hot, almost scalding, cascading over you in a relentless, soothing flow. Steam curled around the bathroom mirror, fogging the glass into a hazy blur. You let the warmth relax your muscles and settle your racing thoughts. It felt good, almost indulgent, until reality crept back in.

Stepping out of the shower, the cool air hit your damp skin, and you wrapped yourself in a towel, briefly closing your eyes. But as you reached for the drawer where clean clothes might be waiting, a sinking feeling took hold. There were none—absolutely nothing that would fit. The neatly folded garments Will had in his wardrobe were either impossibly small, unfamiliar, or entirely inappropriate.

A flicker of panic—embarrassment even—made your stomach twist. You couldn’t just walk out naked. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you stepped out of the bathroom, the towel clutched tightly around you, and called his name.

“Will?” Your voice echoed slightly against the high ceilings of the apartment. “Hey—Will!”

The apartment was unusually quiet for a place so clearly lived in. The faint hum of the refrigerator was the only background noise. You wandered cautiously into the living room, careful not to trip over the plush rug or disturb the minimalistic arrangement of furniture. Sunlight glinted off the polished surfaces of his coffee table and the sharp angles of his modern decor, highlighting how foreign it all felt to you right now.

“Will, do you have… uh… some clothes I could borrow?” you asked again, your voice carrying a mixture of hope and unease. You could feel your cheeks warming, whether from embarrassment or from the lingering memory of last night, you weren’t entirely sure.

Moving through the apartment, you checked the kitchen, peered down the hallway, even glanced into what you assumed was his office. Each room was immaculate, perfectly organized, yet strangely devoid of life. It made you feel even more exposed, the towel clinging to you like a fragile barrier between vulnerability and embarrassment.

Finally, you leaned slightly against the edge of the staircase, letting out a soft sigh. The tension in your shoulders eased just a little. You reminded yourself it was a simple request, nothing more—just clothes. Still, a part of you couldn’t shake the awareness of just how intimate and unguarded you must look right now.

And yet, despite the awkwardness, there was something oddly grounding about being here, in the quiet aftermath of a night that had been nothing if not impulsive. You called out once more, a little louder this time, hoping Will would appear from wherever he had vanished.

“Will! I really need—hey!”

The echo of your own voice bounced back at you, and for a moment, you just stood there, towel wrapped tightly, waiting, the apartment around you both vast and strangely intimate.