I looked at him, leaning against the door.
Then looked back again at all the boxes, the bags, all neatly placed.
I shifted my gaze back to his. "You didn't have to do this," I said.
He didn’t respond. His expression unreadable.
"I'll ask Anna and Marie if I can just wash my clothes," I continued. "So you can just take all of it back."
He still didn’t say anything.
I shook my head and began moving toward the door.
"Where do you think you're going," he said, his voice low.
I stopped and looked up at him, my arms crossing. "I’m going back to the room you told me was mine,” I said flatly.
He held my gaze. “Let me rephrase. Where do you think you’re going,” he stopped and his eyes traced me slowly in the t-shirt. "In that."
I blinked. "Why," I said, something in me tightening. "Did y
