When he returns from the bathroom, he’s dressed in a black shirt and sweatpants. He looks even more mouth-watering now, and I smell my shampoo on him. He’s really provoking me. What is his game? He’s wiping his wet hair with my towel.
“What are you doing, Brandon?”
“That question again, and my answer is only going to be the same.”
“You’re confusing me,” I admit. “Why are you still here?”
He paces toward me and perches on the chair of the computer table. “I wouldn’t be using your bathroom if I don’t plan to stay, don’t you think?”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, you probably need something from me. Just tell me what it is.”
His face turns serious, but his eyes are soft. “Alayna, you’re still having nightmares.” It’s not a question. His statement takes me aback.
I know I am, and it has become w
