One second, everything is normal. The curtains are drawn and the door to our room is closed. There’s music playing on Ryan’s scratchy phone speaker. Something electric and grungy, but other than that, everything’s normal. Ryan’s angry, and he hates me. He’s looking up at me, and one side of his top lip is pulled into a sneer, as usual. His towel is wrapped around his waist where it belongs. Like I said, everything’s normal. The next second, the towel’s on the floor.
