When he comes out of the closet, he has another t-shirt and shorts in his hands and tosses them onto the bed without a second glance.

“Here you go,” he says simply.

He turns his back to me and adjusts his own shirt. The casual way he’s going about all of this only adds to my unease. It’s too easy.

I glance at the clothes on the bed, then back at his bedroom door. My mind is racing, refusing to accept what he just did. I could take these clothes and put them on, but something keeps me ...