“I’ll be fine,” he replied, even using the whole tough-guy expression. The effect was sort of ruined by a violent shudder that rippled through him.
I rolled my eyes, “I’ll get you a bathrobe and stick your clothes in the dryer.” “Um.”
I laughed, “Unless you’d rather die from being cold and wet.” when he didn’t look any more reassured I added, “The robe isn’t pink, if that’s what you’re worried about. It’s white.”
He cracked a smile at that and I ran to get it. When I came back he’d already pulled his shirt off, and I tried not to ogle as I handed him the robe. I was about to get him a towel when I realized he’d already gotten himself one.
“You can use the guest bathroom,” I nodded down the hall and skipped back upstairs to my room to change.
When I came back down he was sitting on the couch, flicking through the channels on the TV.
Before I could ask, he said, “I put my clothes in the laundary room.”
I went and put them in the dryer, trying (and failing) not to look at his boxers.