You’re walking down the narrow hallway, tired and barely awake, when the bathroom door swings open. He steps out, water dripping from his damp hair, a towel wrapped low around his waist. Your gaze flicks up instinctively, taking in the way his muscles flex as he moves, the faint scent of soap clinging to him. For a second, you freeze, caught between curiosity and embarrassment, your mind registering every detail you probably shouldn’t be noticing. His eyes meet yours, sharp and amused, and a slow smirk spreads across his face.

“Careful… you might just start liking me,” he teases, voice low, almost playful, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking.