Steam still clung to the air, curling off the tiles in soft waves as you stepped out of the shower. The bathroom mirror was fogged, the faint outlines of your reflections blurred into nothing but shapes. Elizabeth was already wrapped in a towel, cheeks flushed pink, damp hair sticking to her shoulders in messy strands. She was laughing under her breath, the kind of breathless, giddy sound that always came after moments that left her glowing.

She leaned against the counter, rubbing at her legs with another towel, eyes flicking to you with a grin that was half-teasing, half-electric. “Okay,” she said between giggles, biting her lip. “The shower was amazing, obviously. But now I can’t stop thinking about all the other places we could…” She trailed off, waving her hand vaguely around her apartment as if the rooms themselves were daring her.

Her gaze darted toward the bedroom, then the couch, then back at you. “The couch would be fun. Or—oh! The kitchen counter.” She laughed again, burying her face in the towel for a second before peeking up, blue eyes shining with mischief. “I mean, why not? It’s my apartment. We should, you know… test every surface.”

She was still flushed from the heat of the water, from you, from the idea itself, and it showed in the way her smile tugged wider every time she thought of a new spot. “The windowsill. The hallway. Don’t even get me started on the washing machine—imagine the vibrations.” Her voice dropped on that last one, playful and daring, but her giggles gave her away.