I froze in the doorway, gripping the frame a little too hard. “What?”

He leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed. “The top you’re wearing now?” His tone was dripping with amusement. “It’s white.”

Frowning, I glanced down. And sure enough, the tank top I had been so dramatically ranting about needing for dance was, indeed, white. White as the realization hitting me like a truck.

Blake let out a low chuckle, the sound so unbearably smug that I was two seconds away from throwing the laundry basket at him. He stepped past me, brushing against my shoulder as he moved toward his room.

“You’re—”

“Hold that thought,” he said. “I gotta get dressed.”

The nerve of him.

“Fair warning, I’m about to drop this towel.”

I whirled around so fast I nearly tripped over my own feet. Behind me, I heard the towel hit the floor, followed by the sound of rustling fabric. “Oh my God. Warn me next time!”

“That was your warning.”

I snatched the closest thing within reach—a pillow from the hallway chair—and launched it at him without thinking.

“You are so lucky I haven’t strangled you yet.”

Silence.

“I’m not turning around until you have clothes on,” I added.

“Well, you’re in luck. I’m all dressed.”

I peeked over my shoulder just in time to see him tug a shirt down over his stomach, his gray shorts riding low on his hips. His hair was still damp, curling slightly where it clung to his forehead.

“I should smother you in your sleep.”

“Then I guess I’ll fall asleep smiling,” he said with a wry grin, “knowing that the last thing I ever felt was your touch.”

The words hit me like ice water down my spine. I froze, torn between disbelief and the sudden surge of something darker. Rage. Grief. Something else I didn’t want to name.

“You didn’t answer me,” I reminded him coldly.

“What was the question again?”

I was going to kill him.

“My shirts, Blake. Are you gonna replace them?”

“Come here,” he said, softer this time.

“Why?” I asked, my voice a mix of curiosity and caution.

“Just come here, B.”

I hesitated but stepped forward, eyeing him suspiciously.

Blake reached up, fingers suddenly at the base of my ponytail. Before I could react, he tugged my hair tie free, letting my hair tumble loose over my shoulders.

“Hey—” I swatted at his hand, but he leaned back to avoid me.

“Mine now.”

I blinked at him. “Give it back.”

“Nah,” he said lazily, looping it around his wrist and flexing his fingers as if testing the fit. “I think I’ll keep it.”

“Blake.” My voice dropped into a warning. “Give it back.”

His gaze flicked down to the hair tie as if it was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. “Just to remember you by.”