KATHY
I stepped out of the bathroom, steam curling around me like a misty veil as I wrapped the towel tighter around my body. The typical December air in my room bit at my damp skin as I padded towards the dresser, naturally expecting silence and solitude.
But I froze.
There was someone sitting at the edge of my bed, tall frame hunched slightly over my laptop—my unlocked laptop. And of course, I could hear the familiar sound of moaning coming from the speakers.
My heart stopped. My blood, however did not. It rushed to my face in a hot wave of both horror and humiliation, because the person keenly watching what had been my secret for years isn't just anyone.
It's Jayden Holt. My brother’s best friend.
The six-foot-something ex–varsity hockey god with a jawline sharp enough to shav
