Chapter 4: 🌶️ A Troubling Charm

A week later...

One evening, with the house silent, I decide to take a late shower to relax. The hot water runs down my skin, washing away the day’s fatigue. As I step out of the shower, I realize I forgot to grab clean clothes. Frustrated but too tired to go back to the bathroom, I head to my room with a towel loosely wrapped around my waist.

Once in my room, I let the towel fall, giving in to a sense of freshness and freedom. My mind is still clouded with images of Emmy. She occupies my thoughts more than I’m willing to admit. My phone sits next to me, and without really thinking, I pick it up and start scrolling through her photos.

Each image is more captivating than the last, and I get lost in increasingly intense fantasies. I start to pleasure myself, but suddenly, without realizing it, my bedroom door swings open.

Emma: “Brice, have you seen my charger? Oh...”

I jump, my heart skips a beat. Panic seizes me as I realize I’m completely exposed. I quickly grab my t-shirt to cover myself, but it’s too late—Emma has already seen. My face flushes red, and my heart races. Emma stands still for a moment, her eyes wide, before she looks away, her own face turning red with embarrassment.

Me: “Emma ... I...” I stammer, unable to find the words to explain this situation. My mind races, searching for an excuse, an explanation—anything to ease this awkwardness.

Emma: “Oh ... Damn!” Her voice comes out as a faint whisper, laced with confusion and embarrassment. She averts her eyes, trying to look anywhere but at me.

Emma: “Sorry, I just wanted to grab my charger!”

She steps into the room, still avoiding my gaze, and hurries to my desk to grab her charger. Her movements are hurried, as if she can’t leave fast enough. She grabs the charger and then leaves the room without another word, closing the door softly behind her.

I remain frozen, overwhelmed with embarrassment. My heart is still racing, and an uncomfortable heat rises to my face. Emma didn’t say anything, but the awkwardness hangs in the air like a heavy, thick cloud.

The day starts off strangely after that incident, but I force myself to stick to my routine. I head to class, feeling a bit lost, walking across campus while trying to shake off the lingering embarrassment. The first classes of the morning go by without issue, though I struggle to focus on the professor’s explanations. Between group project discussions and a few breaks between lectures, I do my best to restore some sense of normalcy.

At noon, I eat quickly in the cafeteria, headphones on, avoiding any long conversations.

The afternoon drags on with work in the library, but the awkward morning lingers in my mind, like a shadow that refuses to go away.

Should I talk to her about what happened this morning?

No ... I think it’s better to just pretend it didn’t happen.

The next morning, I wake up still slightly unsettled by the events of the day before. I try to push away the confusing thoughts floating around in my mind, but the image of Emma walking into my room while I was naked keeps coming back. After a quick breakfast, I head to the bathroom, hoping a cool shower will help me clear my head.

I push the door open slightly, not really thinking, assuming the bathroom is empty. But as I open it, I stumble upon a scene that makes me stop dead in my tracks.

Emma is there, her back to me, just finishing drying off, barely covered by a white towel. I freeze. My heart skips a beat.

Startled, Emma spins around abruptly, and the towel slips from her body, falling heavily to the floor.

Emma: “Damn it, Brice! What are you doing here?!” She yells in panic, scrambling to cover her chest and lower half with her hands. Her movements are frantic, and the moment seems to stretch on forever. I quickly turn away, staring at the floor as I feel my cheeks flush.

Me: “I ... I’m sorry! I thought it was free!” I say hastily, my voice shaking, desperately avoiding her gaze. But my eyes can’t help but flicker back to her, capturing what I know I shouldn’t see.

She grabs the towel quickly, trying to wrap it back around herself.

Emma: “Look away, Brice!” She tries to adjust the towel with hurried movements, her breathing still quick from the shock. Her voice betrays her agitation, intensifying the awkwardness.

Me: “I ... I’m looking away, I swear...” I stammer, stubbornly fixing my gaze on a spot on the wall, but I feel rooted to the spot. My heart is pounding, and my thoughts are a tangled mess.

Then, unexpectedly, she bursts out laughing—a sound that cuts through the tension of the moment.

Emma: “Pfft ... Hahaha!”

Emma: “Alright ... it’s nothing ... We’re even now, aren’t we?” She looks at me with a smirk, amused by the situation. She’s referring to the embarrassing scene from last night, and her lighthearted attitude catches me off guard.

Me: “Yeah ... looks like it...” I reply, attempting an awkward smile, though the unease still lingers. My mind feels muddled, caught between embarrassment and a new, undefined feeling. The atmosphere between us becomes strangely intense, as if an invisible tension has crept in unexpectedly.