FAYE
When Mrs. Adams finally left the room, her footsteps fading down the hall, Irene turned toward me with a small smile. “I’ll be back later,” she said softly, almost as if she didn’t want to intrude further. And just like that, she slipped out too, leaving me alone with Alexander.
The silence that followed pressed heavily on me.
I became suddenly aware of myself—my body, my clothes, or rather, my lack of them. Heat flushed my face as I looked down and realized again what I was wearing. The fabric of the shirt I had on was too big, the sleeves almost swallowing my arms, the hem brushing my thighs. I didn’t even have to guess whose it was. Alexander’s.
The problem wasn’t just that it was his shirt—it was that I could feel there was nothing beneath it. No underclothes, nothing between
