Spilling the Tea

I knocked on the door.

"Just a minute," came a faint reply from inside. Even though I was nervous a heck, I waited patiently outside, letting him finish whatever he was doing. A moment later, he pulled open the door, dressed in a casual shirt and trousers. His hair was slightly wet and so was his face. 

"I have to tell you something," I whispered, glancing a quick look at the stairs.

He frowned. "Um, sure..." He pulled back the door further and let me in. "What is it?" 

Hesitantly, I trotted into his room. I noticed that there was a bowl of water and a flannel next to it on his bedside table. He probably used it to clean himself. The rest of his room was dark and only a small candle which was about to die out sat in a wax filled silver plate on the floor. 

He flopped down on his bed and waited for me to start talking, giving me a questionable look. I took a deep, shaky breath to gather my brains before I spoke.