My phone lights up again. This time, it's not a text. Incoming call from Felix. I don't know what will happen. I stare at the screen. The nerve. I let it ring once. Twice. Then I answer.
"You posted that on purpose," he says. No greeting. Just that, like I'd called him out with a bullet instead of a puddle photo.
I stay quiet. He chuckles. "You're cruel, you know that?"
"You started it."
"Yeah? Well." A beat. "I'll pick you up in ten minutes."
"What? Wait—"
He hangs up. I stare at my reflection in the dark screen. "What the hell."
Still, I move. Toss off the towel, grab a hoodie, throw on black jeans and sneakers. Nothing flashy. Just in case this is one of his chaos nights. My hair's still damp when I step outside, heart thudding for reasons I don't want to name.
