My eyes glanced at the dining table nearby, where a bright yellow dress was scattered around.
Perched on top of it was a pair of pale white lace panties.
I squinted and stared for a long time before the sound of water running in the bathroom came to a stop.
I looked up and saw a girl walking out from behind the door.
She was wrapped in my towel, her damp hair framing her face like some picture of innocence and allure.
Our eyes met.
A flicker of panic crossed the girl’s face, but she quickly composed herself, the corners of her lips curling into a practiced smile.
"Wasn’t you supposed to perform abroad and return tomorrow, Coach Claire?"
Following her gaze, I realized my left hand was gripping the violin case so tightly that my knuckles had turned pale out of tension.
I set the case on the ground and shook my hand, "I wasn’t used to the food there, so I changed my mind."
Her eyes darted briefly toward her discarded underwear.
"But I didn’t expect you’d show up at my house so early, wearing such pretty clothes, no less," I added, stressing the words “my house” and “pretty” with deliberate emphasis, causing her to let out a soft laugh.