I rap my knuckles against her door, feeling nervous.
"Mm," A muffled groan comes from the other side.
I knock louder the next time.
"Uh...Come in..." Seneca's unmistakable sweet voice calls, and I take that as my cue to enter.
I twist the cool doorknob with shivering fingers —due to nerves, that is— and slowly open the door. Just as I'd expected, Seneca is lying in the middle of the king size bed. My imagination has done no justice to her because in reality, she's even more beautiful.
Only, the one thing differing from my imagination is, she's clutching a pillow over her face, suffocating herself with it. Okay, she's not suffocating herself, but you get the memo.
Her lean, slim body is spread across the bed, and a dark grey t-shirt the exact color of her granite eyes cascades over her upper body —
I stop dead on my tracks.
She's not wearing pants!
I blush.
I blush five hundred shades of red.