Blanche's POV
I huffed, irritation sparking through me, and Vincent quickly looked away, his ears turning pink as he stammered, "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"
I scoffed. "Just get out for a minute."
Vincent glanced at the window, then back at me, stubborn as hell. "I need to talk to you. I'll leave once you're dressed."
The image of my bare back seemed stuck in his head—I could tell by the way his jaw clenched, forcing himself to stare at the wall instead.
Something about him turning away like that, trying to be decent, made my irritation soften just a little.
I dropped the towel and slipped into my pajamas, then called out, "Done."
Vincent turned around, but kept his eyes glued to the floor, staring at my toes as he mumbled, "Alright."
My annoyance flared right back up. "Vincent, quit sneaking through my window at night. This isn't the first time you've scared me half to death—and this time, I wasn't even dressed."
