He throws it in the washing machine for her

Jenna just stared at her shirt for a moment, her brain going in a hundred different directions at once and flooding her with that same impotent panic that always crept up on her. Then she looked up at him, and despite not knowing what to do, from the look on his face, she felt like things might still be okay. He was smiling at her, warm and friendly and comforting, and she just had this moment in her mind flit across: I trust him.

She felt him turning her around, and even though she wasn't sure what was happening, she let it happen. Jenna felt his arms on her hips, the blush on her cheeks as she realized he was touching her, actually touching her... and then the shock as he casually lifted her shirt up. She lifted her arms as he took the top off her, facing away from him in an old bra that she didn't expect anyone to end up seeing that night. "Here, let me put this in the wash while you go put your hoodie back on."

And then he was gone. She heard the door next to them open, and she slowly moved over to the chair where she'd draped her hoodie when she first came in. She slipped her arms through it, latched the zipper at the bottom but didn't zip it as she heard the washing machine start to run in the next room. Jenna entered now that she was mostly dressed again, a little awkwardly but not nearly as much as she usually felt. She watched him from the doorway for a moment, then let out a little squeak as he grabbed her by the waist again and semi-gently pulled her into the room.

"Sorry, the cat likes to get in here," he explained, "and it'd take awhile to push him back out. Are you okay?"

Was she okay? Am I okay?

Jenna nodded, smiling at him, still flushed but actually feeling not terrible about herself for once. "...yea, I'm okay. Thanks for being nice about all this. For being a gentleman." She realized he still held her, pressed against the washing machine.