I sit on the edge of the bed, my face still burning with embarrassment. The way that man looked at me—his gaze crawling over my skin like something physical, like he had a right to see, to assess, to want. It made my stomach turn.
I run a hand through my messy silver hair, my fingers catching in the knots.
Neon, you absolute fool. You always embarrass yourself. What must Deniz think of you?
Running out there half-dressed, covered in evidence of last night, in front of his teacher?
I look up at the ceiling, letting out a long, frustrated sigh.
I should have put on pants. I should have at least grabbed something to cover my legs.
Why didn't I think of that? Why didn't I stop for one second and think before I rushed out?
I'm completely dumb. Completely—
The door opens.
I look up, and Deniz enters, carrying a small tub of warm water and a soft towel. Steam rises gently from the surface, catching the light.
His movements are quiet, deliberate, purposeful.
