The shower door slides open and Adrian is staring at me. His eyes are wild and his hands are in fists as if he’s ready to attack someone.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, looking around the shower stall. “Did someone put something in the water?”
“What?” Water is spraying out of the shower and Adrian’s white tee shirt is soaked.
I reach for the faucet and turn off the water. “What the fuck are you doing here, Adrian?”
“I heard you scream,” he says.
I raise my eyebrows. “You heard me scream?”
“I thought someone attacked you,” he says.
“And why the fuck would you come charging into my room for that?” I ask.
He frowns. “I was tasked with keeping an eye on you, remember?”
“So you’re listening outside my room to see if I scream?” I ask.
“No, they gave me the room next door to you,” he says. “We share a wall.”
“Wonderful,” I reply. Suddenly, I remember that I’m naked and my arms can only cover so much. “Do you mind?”
“Do I mind that you interrupted my evening?” he asks. “Yes, I mind.”
“I meanturn around,” I say.
He smirks and his eyes drop from my face. He’s not even trying to hide that he’s checking me out.
“Seriously?” I shake my head as I turn sideways to go past him. I grab a towel off the wall and hold it up to cover myself.
“You’re dripping water all over the floor,” he says.
“Thanks to you. Who barges in on someone while they’re in the shower? And since when do you actually care if anything happens to me? Why not just join the pool and place a bet on how long I’ll make it here.” I’m furious and I know my cheeks are probably bright red.
“Oh, I did,” he says. “I gave you a month. I have to at least make an attempt to look out for you. But the prince will understand if you don’t make it.”
I press my lips into an angry line. I don’t know why I’m so pissed at him. He’s just like everyone else I’ve met here. No feelings or concern for others. Just in it for himself. And on top of it, he’s pretending to help me while waiting for me to die. “Out. I don’t want to look at you anymore.”
He grins. “But you think I’m so handsome.”
That’s true. And he damn well knows it since he can read my mind. “Out!”
“I’ll be right next door,” he says. “Try not to think about me too much. I might be able to read your thoughts through the wall.”
I glare at him as he leaves me standing in a puddle in my bathroom. The worst part about all of this is that as much as I want to hate him, there’s something inside me that won’t let me fully go there. There’s a sick part of me that wants him to refuse to leave.
I am seriously fucked up.