Page 159 of Lorenzo

The shower shuts off.

I sit up and pull the comforter around myself, though Lorenzo has already seen everything I am covering.

Like… a lot.

The bathroom door opens a few moments later.

He walks out with a towel wrapped around his waist, another draped over his head as he rubs his hair dry. He looks completely at ease.

He lowers the towel and finds me watching him.

“Good morning.”

His voice is smooth and full of his usual charm. I’m suspicious.

“Is it?”

He glances toward the window. “The sun is up.”

“That is generally how morning works.”

He tosses the towel onto the chair and reaches for his trousers.

I watch him step into them.

He catches me looking.

“You can stare,” he says. “I don’t mind.”

“I was making sure you didn't steal any of my towels.”

“I have my own towels.”

“Why are you still here?”

The question comes out more directly than I intended.

He fastens his trousers and looks at me.

“Would you prefer that I leave?”

There is no challenge in his voice. No teasing.

He is giving me a simple choice.

I could tell him to leave.

Part of me wants to, because that would restore the rules I understand.

Instead, I say, “I expected you to.”

“That is different.”

He reaches for his shirt, examines the missing buttons, then sets it down again.

“You can’t wear that,” I tell him.

“The other option is no shirt at all. Which is not an option.”