The shower

She stands under the spray longer than necessary, letting the heat work into her shoulders, her neck, the places where Chad's arms had pressed her close. She watches the water swirl at her feet, carrying away the salt of her workout and the lingering sensation of that hug.

She presses her palms flat against the cool tile, forehead resting against them, letting the water cascade down her spine.

Her mind drifts to the living room—the two of them out there, the coffee growing cold, the silence she left behind. She wonders what they're saying. She wonders if they're talking about her.

She stays until the water starts to cool, then shuts it off, stepping out into the steam-filled room. She wraps a towel around herself and stands in front of the fogged mirror, wiping a clear circle with her palm.

Her reflection stares back—flushed cheeks, wet lashes, the girl who bent over in front of her boyfriend's friend and didn't hurry to get up.

"Okay. You're fine. You're fine. Just go out there, be normal, and figure out what the hell you're doing."

She takes a breath, tightens the towel, and reaches for the door handle.