Liam stepped out of the bathroom, a towel still draped around his shoulders, his shirt in one hand as he dried off the last drops of water clinging to his neck. The bathroom mirror had fogged up during his long moment of silent staring, and now the room outside felt warmer, cozier—more grounded in reality.
He was halfway into pulling his shirt over his head when he paused.
Lana was sitting on the bed, legs tucked underneath her, a large bag of chips in one hand and the remote in the other. The flickering lights of the movie danced across her face as she laughed at some silly scene. She looked comfortable—maybe too comfortable. Her long dark brown hair cascaded around her shoulders like silk, and she wore a grey hoodie with the sleeves pulled up, revealing smooth arms that glowed under the warm lights of the hotel room. Her beauty was effortless. But what caught Liam's attention wasn't the movie or her face.
It was her phone.
