After the shower, the steam still clung to my skin as I stepped out and reached for a towel. Layla, wrapped in one of my oversized towels, was grinning like she had just won a prize.
Her damp hair dripped onto her bare shoulders, making the dark strands shine under the bathroom light.
I tried not to stare, but it was impossible. She always had that effect on me—completely disarming, effortlessly beautiful.
"You're staring," she teased, raising an eyebrow as she caught me looking.
"Can you blame me?" I shot back, smirking as I wrapped a towel around my waist.
Layla laughed, a sound that filled the room and echoed in my chest. "Come on, let's get dressed before we turn into prunes."
I followed her out of the bathroom, the cool air of the hallway a sharp contrast to the warmth we'd just left behind.