It's Just Don't Feel Right

"I won't ask, but I'll tell you to go to sleep. You've had enough swimming,” Ed said, putting down the towel and turning away.

He would leave and sleep somewhere else—change clothes and cool down—because his body temperature was much higher than it should be, as he vividly remembered Ruby's wet, naked, and glistening body.

“Cold,” Ruby whispered as Ed held the door handle.

“No wonder.” Ed snorted, then turned around, approached the thermostat, and raised the temperature to make it warmer.

“Next time, don’t have the idea of swimming before dawn,” said Ed, heading back to the door.

“Still cold,” Ruby whispered even more faintly.

“Is it still not enough?” Ed glanced at the temperature monitor. He began to feel hot. His room was never more than twenty-two degrees. He had already set it to a warm temperature of 25 °C.

But as he was about to adjust the temperature again, a connection was made in his brain. It wasn't the temperature that was the problem.

“Do you want me to stay?” Ed was hesi