I opened the door slowly.
Ren was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the wall, like he'd been lost in thought.
When he heard me, he stood up instantly, and froze.
His eyes flicked to my damp hair, then back to my face.
It was obvious he was trying not to let his gaze drop lower.
His eyes dropped to the hem of his shirt on me, and he looked away quickly, clearing his throat.
Ian would've kept staring.
Ren controlled himself.
That difference alone made my throat close.
"Uh…your hair is dripping," he said, handing me a smaller towel.
I started drying my hair, but my hands were shaking.
He noticed. "Let me."
My breath caught.
"Ren, I can…."
"I know."
He smiled softly. "Let me anyway."
He lifted the towel, hesitating, still waiting for permission.
I nodded.
And without making it weird, he stepped behind me and began gently towel-drying my hair himself.
His fingers brushed my neck.
"Ren…" I whispered.
"Yeah?"
"I'm sorry for all this." I whispered.
