Her towel

Sarah steps out of the shower, her skin still slick with moisture, and reaches for the towel she left hanging by the door. Her hand finds nothing but empty air. She blinks, looking around the small bathroom, her brow furrowing.

Her heart skips a beat. The towel is gone. She was certain she left it right there before stepping under the spray. She turns in a slow circle, scanning the floor, the rack, the hook behind the door. Nothing.

Her gaze drifts to the cracked bathroom door. She didn't lock it. She never locks it — not when it's just the two of them, and Joe knows she likes to leave it open just a sliver so he can hear her hum. But Alex is out there now. Alex, who couldn't stop staring at her through a thin shirt.

A flush crawls up her chest and neck. She presses her thighs together, a strange mix of panic and something darker coiling low in her stomach.

"Joe?" she calls out, her voice soft and hesitant. "Did you take my towel?"

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