Testing him

The morning light filtered through the curtains as Hazel opened her eyes, finding herself alone in the vast bed. The rhythmic ticking of a nearby clock underscored the solitude.

Francisco, an early riser, was already up.

As Hazel contemplated her predicament, her hand instinctively reached for her forehead. She pondered the choices ahead, realizing that the precipice she stood upon offered no escape. Determination ignited within her; she vowed to do whatever it took to earn Francisco's trust.

Abruptly, the washroom door creaked open, and Hazel's gaze shifted towards the source of the sound. There stood Francisco, his wet hair tousled and unruly as he vigorously rubbed it with a towel. Droplets of water meandered down his sharp jaw line, highlighting the contours of his face.

A peculiar sense of shame crept over Hazel as she begrudgingly acknowledged the arresting handsomeness of the criminal before her.

The wet strands of Francisco's hair grazed his forehead, and the water-kissed skin