I stepped out of the bathroom already dressed — pants, shirt, even socks.
It felt stupid, honestly. Who showers and changes inside the bathroom like they're hiding from a ghost?
But I didn't want to walk out half-naked and have Alexander look at me in some type of way.
Not that he ever had… but still.
When I opened the door, my stupid paranoia disappeared.
There he was.
Alexander stood near the bed, tugging at the collar of the shirt we picked out earlier. The dark fabric contrasted beautifully against his skin, sharp angles and broad shoulders making the outfit look like it was made for him.
He looked… good.
Really good.
I paused for a second longer than I should've, then pretended I hadn't.
"Wow," I said, forcing my voice to sound casual. "So the clothes actually fit."
He glanced at me — and then he smiled.
Not his usual polite smile.
Not the stiff, soldier one.
A real one.
"They do," he murmured, smoothing a hand over the fabric. "Thanks for helping me choose."
