She is here before me, naked, and so…
Sofascinating.
I've never been around a naked woman before. I didn’t think I ever would be.
And it's…
I don't know what it is. I don’t have good words for it.
Overwhelming. Intriguing. And in spite of what I know about myself and what I have to do and what I cannot do…I do want to.
To look. To explore. To discover.
“Let me go,” Gwenna says, not sharply, not exactly, but with enough firmness that my throat catches.
I move without even having to think. “Yes. Of course.” I avert my gaze further from the top of her head to the floor of Morgan's bathroom, lean my weight out of the tub, and extract myself from it, removing support only when it's clear she can hold herself up. Head still bowed, I grab for a hanging towel and hold it aloft in both hands, still keeping my eyes trained on the wall opposite the shower.
I feel the fabric tugged from my grip as Gwenna takes it, the soft sounds of her wrapping it around her body, a spattering of drops as she squeezes her hair dry.
“I'm decent,” comes her voice, an edge of humor somehow lacing its way in.
I relax a little, turn toward her. At first, I meet her eyes, wide and green, butno—immediately I know that's too much. I look down lower, to her collarbone, but that's somehow worse. The pale skin, with faded freckles and beads of water glazing the skin.
So I end up looking at the ceiling.
I feel the blush color my cheeks, knowing I must look ridiculous.
“Is that yours?”
I glance back down to see what Gwenna means. The dagger, lying askew in the rumpled bath mat.
“Yes.” My ears burn as I stoop to pick it up, slide it back into the holster before I stand again. “I thought…I thought maybe you were in danger.”
“I see.” From the corner of my eye, I see her nod, tuck a damp strand behind her ear. “Well, I’m…going to go to bed now.”
I am looking at the ceiling. I am looking at the ceiling. I nod.
“Right. Of course.”
She makes a kind of murmuring sound but doesn't move.
“You don't have to…” she starts, then shakes her head. “Never mind.”
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing,” she says. “I…thank you for rescuing me, but I promise you I'm fine. I'm just gonna go lie down in a bed. You don't need to come back in.”
“Okay.” Now all I can think about is her lying in a bed. But I just nod, and clasp my hands behind my back, gesturing for her to leave first. She does, holding the towel up at her sternum. Meanwhile, my own shirt clings to my chest, cold now, and I peel the wet fabric away from my skin.
“Sorry,” I call after her. Sorry for what? I don’t know. “I…hope you sleep well.”
Nothing. Then:
“Me too,” she calls back.
Second pass before I realize the water is still running. I reach past the curtain and turn it off, and just like that, Cornubia Hall is quiet again.
But now the quiet is deafening.
