A blue towel is sticking out of her backpack.
She grabs it and turns back to him. "Wait, you forgot—"
Your towel.
His back is to her, but he's completely bare. The water sluices down his skin, coursing over the magenta markings and sculpted muscles she had previously tried so hard to ignore.
Her mouth is suddenly dry.
It's rude. And she knows she's gawking. But those markings continue far past his back, painting forbidden stripes over a perfect, muscular backside, and she just can't even.
She doesn't notice he's noticed until it's too late.
He smirks. "Don't look."
