CHAPTER 8

ANTALYA'S POV

I watched Raymond's breathing even out into the steady rhythm of sleep, his chest rising and falling beneath the thin academy-issued sheets. The digital clock on the nightstand glowed 11:47 PM—late enough that he should be deep in slumber. My body ached from the tight bandages wrapped around my chest, and the masculine clothes felt foreign against my skin. I needed a shower desperately, but I'd been too terrified to risk it while he was awake.

Finally, I thought, slipping silently from my bed. Just a quick wash and I'll be back before he even stirs.

I grabbed my towel and a clean set of clothes, tiptoeing across the cold linoleum floor toward the shared bathroom. The door creaked softly as I pushed it open, and I winced, freezing for a moment to listen for any movement from Raymond's bed.

Nothing.

Inside the bathroom, I locked the door and leaned against it, finally allowing myself to breathe. The fluorescent light buzzed overhead, casting harsh shadows across the cramped space. A single shower stall dominated one corner, while a bathtub sat opposite—luxury accommodations for an academy dormitory.

I started to undress slowly, my fingers trembling as I worked at the buttons of my flannel shirt. Every sound seemed amplified in the small space—the rustle of fabric, the soft thud of my shoes hitting the floor. When I reached for the edge of the bandages wrapped tightly around my chest, the bathroom door suddenly burst open.

"AAHHH!" The scream tore from my throat before I could stop it, my hands flying to clutch the loose bandages against my chest as Raymond walked in completely naked, his golden hair tousled from sleep.

"What the hell—" I spun around, my back to him, heart hammering so hard I was sure he could hear it. "GET OUT!"

"Whoa, whoa," Raymond's voice was thick with confusion and amusement. "What's wrong with you, Lance? You act like you've never seen a naked guy before."

I shook my head frantically, pointing toward the door without turning around. "Just... just leave! Please!"

"Are you seriously shy about seeing another man naked?" His tone was incredulous, and I could hear the smirk in his voice. "Dude, we're roommates. This is going to happen."

Oh God, oh God, oh God. My mind raced frantically. He can't see me like this. The bandages, my body—everything will give me away.

"I don't care," I managed to choke out, my voice higher than usual with panic. "I need privacy!"

"Privacy?" Raymond laughed, and I heard him move closer. "Look, I came in here to take a bath. I'm not leaving just because you're having some weird modesty crisis."

"Then wait outside until I'm done!" I pleaded, still clutching the bandages to my chest like a lifeline.

"Can't do that," he said casually, and I heard the sound of water beginning to run. "I don't take baths alone."

What? That made me turn my head slightly, careful to keep my body angled away from him. "What do you mean you don't take baths alone?"

He shrugged, completely unbothered by his nudity as he adjusted the water temperature. "Maybe because all my life, I've always gone into the bathroom with my brother."

I snorted despite my terror. "Are you serious right now? You want me to entertain your ridiculous lifelong routine of bathing with someone? Worse still, a man and not someone of the opposite sex?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Raymond turned to face me fully, and I quickly spun back around.

"I mean..." I scrambled for words, my face burning. "I'm questioning your sexuality here, Raymond."

His laughter filled the small bathroom, rich and warm. "Oh, you think I'm gay? That's what this is about?"

"I don't know what to think!" I shot back, desperation making my voice crack.

"Well, let me clear that up for you," he said, his voice dropping to a lower, more intimate register. "I am definitely, absolutely not gay. I like women, Lance. Soft curves, sweet voices, the way they smell like flowers and vanilla."

Flowers and vanilla. My stomach dropped. That sounded exactly like the kind of scent I would normally have—before the masking potion.

"I prefer long hair I can run my fingers through," he continued, and I heard him sink into the bathtub with a satisfied sigh. "Delicate hands that look tiny in mine. Full lips that taste like honey when I kiss them."

Stop talking, I thought desperately. Please stop painting pictures that make my heart race.

"But since there aren't any women here," Raymond's voice carried a teasing edge, "I guess you'll have to do for bathing company."

"No!" I clutched my towel tighter. "Absolutely not! I am not getting in that tub with you!"

"Come on, Lance," he coaxed. "It's just a bath between roommates. What's the worst that could happen?"

The worst that could happen? Oh, just that you'd discover I'm actually a woman. And not just any woman—possibly your arranged bride. No big deal.

"I can't," I said firmly, my back still to him.

"Why not? You're acting like you've got something to hide."

Because I do! "I just... I have body image issues, okay?"

"Body image issues?" Raymond's tone was skeptical. "You're an athlete. You can't have that bad of a body."

If only he knew that my "body issues" involved having curves in all the wrong places for a man.

"Look," I said, trying to sound reasonable while my heart tried to beat out of my chest, "can't you just... I don't know, wash quickly and leave? I really need to clean up too."

"The tub's big enough for two," he said matter-of-factly. "Just get in on your side, I'll stay on mine. We don't even have to look at each other."

"That's not the point!" My voice cracked again with stress.

"Then what is the point, Lance?" His voice had taken on a more serious tone. "You're acting really strange. Is there something you're not telling me?"

Yes! Everything! I'm not who you think I am!