Chapter 18

At that moment, Lance's chilly voice came from the pool entrance. He said, "Soren, I need to talk to you." The moment Lance approached, Tara clearly felt the strange tension ease. Soren returned to his nonchalant demeanor, hands casually stuffed in the pockets of his bathrobe. His tone was relaxed, as if the awkwardness Tara had just felt had been nothing more than a fleeting illusion. "Nothing good ever comes out of you talking to me." Lance walked closer, his faint gaze sweeping over Tara's face, who showed signs of unease and confusion. "Let's talk upstairs." Soren picked up the towel from the lounge chair and casually dried his hair. Tara wanted to stop him but was too late. He had taken the towel she used to wipe her neck and her clothes. Seeing him use it on his hair… She remembered that Soren was a germaphobe and didn't dare imagine how furious he would be if he found out the towel he was rubbing on his hair had been used by her. Since he had already used it, Tara feig