Aria’s POV
If looks could kill, I would be buried six feet under by now. Jameson's glare burned through me as I awkwardly picked up the towel from the floor and draped it over him, stepping back quickly.
“All I did was try to help,” I brushed my hair off my shoulders, trying to keep my voice steady.
He didn’t answer.
His face was a light shade of red, probably from embarrassment. It wasn’t often I saw him flustered, and honestly, I didn’t know how to handle it.
I shifted uncomfortably. “So… what should I do? Do you need help, or do you want me to leave?”
He pointed toward a vintage shirt hanging nearby—the culprit that had caused his fall.
I grabbed it for him, my eyes scanning the closet for matching pants. He was obviously not in a position to choose, so I went with simple blac
