He opened the closet like I wasn’t standing there.

I leaned against the doorway, arms folded, watching him flip through shirts with cold precision. Like we hadn’t just kissed in a way that could’ve torn the sky in half.

He pulled out a black tee, dragged it over his head.

And I said it.

"Why are you bothering with that shirt when you're going to take it off in five minutes?"

He paused. Turned. Eyes sweeping over me with quiet menace.

Then came the smirk.

"Is that so?"

I didn’t ...