Blake raised a brow, still guiding the razor along his jaw. “I ruin a lot of things. You’ll have to be more specific.”

“This—” I lifted my shirt between us, shaking it for emphasis. “Look at this! Look at what you did, Blake.”

He flicked a glance at the shirt, then at me. “Oh. That.”

“Yes, that. You ruined all my clothes⁠—”

“Oh, yeah.” He nodded approvingly. “That’s a strong pink.”

He didn’t seem guilty in the slightest.

In fact, he looked more amused than anything.

A strangled noise crawled its way up my throat.

“I have dance in two hours, Blake.”

“And?”

“And I needed my white tops!”

Blake set the razor down and stretched, his towel slipping just a little lower on his hips.

I turned my head so quickly I almost gave myself whiplash. “Oh my God, could you not?”

“Not what?”

“Be shirtless while I’m yelling at you!”

Blake chuckled dryly. “My bad, B. I’ll make sure to be fully clothed next time you storm into the bathroom unannounced.”

“You do math for fun, Blake. You mean to tell me you couldn’t figure out how a washing machine works?”

“Not my fault you left your pink stuff in the basket. I just threw everything in together.”

“How do you not know how to separate laundry?”

“I don’t know. Guess I was too busy reading as a kid.”

I stared at him in utter disbelief.

“You’re welcome,” he added lazily.

“Excuse me?”

He turned, one arm bracing against the counter, the towel slipping just a little lower. “Pink looks good on you.”

I blinked. “You’re joking, right?”

“Am I?” He quirked a brow. “You wear pink all the time.”

“That’s different!” I shot back. “You’re going to Target with me. And you’re buying me new white tops. And don’t even think about trying to get out of it with some excuse⁠—”

“Is that supposed to be a punishment?”

“What?”

“Shopping with you? Watching you try on tiny little tops, asking me what I think? Yeah, that’s real torture, B.”

“Stop calling me that.”

He grabbed his toothbrush and flicked on the faucet. “Why? You don’t like it?”

I did not answer that.

His smirk only widened. “You’re checking me out.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“This is an emergency,” I reminded him, shaking the ruined shirt again as if that would somehow convince him to take the situation more seriously.

“Tragic,” he deadpanned.

“Deeply.”

“Heartbreaking.”

“Devastating,” I added, lifting my chin.

Blake let out a quiet huff of laughter, shaking his head as he stuck the toothbrush into his mouth and started brushing.

I crossed my arms over my chest, my irritation growing with every passing second. “I bet you did it on purpose.”