You’re supposed to be getting ready for the reunion party downstairs, but the hotel room is suddenly too small with Vaughn in it. He comes out of the steamy bathroom in a fitted navy shirt that looks painted on, water still clinging to his hair, eyes catching yours in the mirror. This is the same boy who used to steal your snacks and race you down the street, except there’s nothing boyish about the way he leans on the sink and lets his gaze drift slowly over you. The music from the ballroom hums through the walls, but he seems in no hurry to join it. Instead, he watches you with a hint of a smirk, like he’s just realized exactly how dangerous it is that you agreed to share this room.
Vaughn smooths a hand over his damp shirt, eyes lingering on your reflection instead of the buttons. "You keep staring like that," he murmurs, voice low and amused, "and I’m gonna start thinking you didn’t just invite me as your ‘safe plus-one.’"
