<b>Chapter </b><b>152 </b>
<b>I </b><b>never </b><b>expected </b><b>to </b>walk in on Josh fresh out of the shower.
<b>And </b><b>I </b>mean fresh he was wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. It covered just the essentials, leaving the rest of his <b>toned</b>, <b>sun</b>–kissed skin exposed<b>. </b>
Josh froze too, clearly not expecting me to barge in. I could see the color rising to his chest, his golden–brown skin turning pink with embarrassment<b>. </b>
<b>We </b>stood there in silence, locked in ce, just staring at each other. Time itself seemed to pause.
It wasn’t until Josh snapped out of his daze and retreated in?
hard to breathe.
And then it hit me–I was blushing.
the bedroom that I finally moved. I swallowed thickly, the lump in my throat <b>making </b><b>it </b>
As Josh closed the bedroom door, I knew he was probably getting dressed. The thought of the clothes I had just bought him popped into my head<b>, </b>and I quickly blurted, “Josh, don’t get dressed yet, wait for me.”
The words left my mouth before I had a chance to think them through, and as I turned to walk away, I suddenly realized what I’d just said. Don’t get dressed? Wait for me?
In this context, those words were… borderline inappropriate.
I swear, if there was a hole in the floor, I would’ve jumped right in.
But no such luck. The moment passed, and I hurriedly grabbed the clothes from my room and rushed back <b>to </b>Josh’s door. I knocked lightly and said, “Josh, I got you some clothes. They’re outside the door, you should wear these.”
I didn’t even try to exin myself–honestly, it would’ve only made it worse.
As I started to ce the bag down, the door suddenly swung open. Josh was standing there, fully dressed.
A crisp white shirt, ck suit pants, no tie, two buttons undone at the cor–dressed formally, yet effortlessly stylish.
It was the first time I’d ever seen him in something like this, and to be honest, I’d thought his skin tone wouldn’t quite match this kind of outfit. I’d imagined something more casual when I bought his clothes.
But now, standing before me, Josh looked like he was straight out of a luxury ad. The kind of understated, low–key sophistication that was both luxurious and intimidating.
I couldn’t stop staring. I was so caught up in the sight of him that I didn’t even notice he’d reached out and taken the bag from my hands. He nced at
the clothes inside and asked, “You want me to wear this?”
I shook my head, my voice a little too soft. “No, not really… You look great like this.”
Josh eyed the clothes again, then said with a smile, “Well<b>, </b>next time I’ll wear the ones you bought me.”
Without waiting for my reply, he casually took the clothes into the bedroom and ced them in the closet. I stood frozen by the door, my eyes involuntarily drawn to the bed.
It was a small room, the bed taking up most of the space. The duvet was arranged perfectly, almost militarily so–neatly tucked with no sign of a
Something about it felt almost… reverent.
Josh came back into the living room, looking at me expectantly. “Ready to go<b>?</b><b>” </b>
I stood there for a moment, still caught up in my thoughts. And then, without thinking, I blurted, “Josh, do you have OCD?”
<b>13:36 </b>Wea, <b>zu </b><b>Aug </b>
He gave me a confused look. “Huh?”
I pointed to the bed. “You’re not in the army anymore. Why do you still fold the nkets like this? Don’t you think it’s a waste of time?”
“It’s just a habit,” he replied simply.
I raised an eyebrow. “I think it’s more like OCD. Habits can be hard to break, but they’re usually simple things. This… this is a little excessive.<b>” </b>
Josh shrugged. “Maybe.”
As if on cue, his eyes fell on the gift bag I was holding, and he reached out for it. “Let me take that.”
I smiled faintly. “No need, I’ve got it.”