Ignoring him, I headed to the bathroom, washing my face with water and my hands as best I could.
When I came back out, Kylan was leaning in his chair, his arms casually relaxing on the arm rest. His gaze was fixed on me, and I could feel his eyes slowly trailing up and down until they lingered a little too long on my legs.
Feeling self-conscious under his stare, I tugged at the hem of the shirt, trying to pull it lower—but it was already as low as it could go.
Kylan’s eyes flickered, like he suddenly realized I was trying to hide myself—and then we just stared at each other like two idiots. Neither of us said a word, and the only sound was my uneven breathing as I desperately tried to think of something—anything—to make this less uncomfortable.
I did the first thing that came to mind a
