CASSIAN

Zion lowered the towel and for a second, I forgot how to blink. 

His face looked like he lost a fight with a butter knife. Half-shaven, uneven, with a constellation of nicks and a few patches under his chin. He looked miserable. Embarrassed.

And… soft.

I mean, not the face. The face looked like it had been dragged across gravel. But the expression, the stubborn vulnerability behind it, made my heart skip a beat.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he ...