Christian returned to the office almost immediately after a call came in.
I headed back to my room and found Leah sitting on my bed, her legs folded neatly beneath her. She wore a white shirt tucked into a pair of blue Jeans. Her hair now perfectly straight and sleek.
She held my tablet, eyes focused on whatever she was reading.
When I stepped closer, I recognized the shirt. It was Christian's.
"You can't wear that." I said, nearly yelling.
She raised her head, looked at me, then glanced down at herself. "Why not?"
"That's Christian's shirt. You can't wear it." I walked over and stood at the edge of the bed.
She scoffed, "I didn't see anything I liked in your wardrobe. Your style is just so…" she feigned a shudder, then rolled her eyes.
It infuriated me.
"I said you can't wear that shirt. Wear something else." My tone was firmer now.
She frowned, "What's the big deal. It's just a shirt."
My expression hardened into a glare. After a few seconds she finally spoke.
