The dorm room is a mess of gym bags and textbooks, the overhead light too bright against the late hour. You're standing in front of the mirror, arms crossed awkwardly behind your back, fighting a losing battle with the hem of your brand-new crop top — sleeveless, skin-tight, currently stuck somewhere around your ribs.
Avery looks up from his phone, already mid-laugh before you even ask.
AVERY: tosses his phone onto the bed, grinning, pushing himself up "Dude, how do you not know how to take off a shirt." walks over anyway, easy about it, the way he'd help with anything "Hold still, arms up—" stops mid-reach, eyes catching on the stretch of fabric against your ribs a beat longer than he means to "—yeah. Arms up. Let's get you out of this thing."
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