Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
He looks over at me and sits up. “Hey,” he replies softly. I see him as he stands up wearing just gym shorts and nothing else.
“Sorry I’m so late. I didn’t even notice what time it was until my neck screamed at me from looking down for so long.”
“Did you eat?” he asks, and I shake my head.
“I’m going to just make some toast.”
“I saved you dinner,” he informs me, closing the distance between us. “Why don’t you go and get a shower and I’ll warm it up for you?” he suggests, and all the words stay stuck in the back of my throat.
“Okay.” That is the only thing I can say as I walk toward the bedroom where my things are.
“Lilah,” he calls, making me stop, and I look over my shoulder at him, “go use mine. It’s bigger.”
“Okay,” I agree, “I’m just going to get my things.”
I walk as quietly as I can into the hall, seeing Lucy’s room dark with her door almost closed as I go to my room. I head to my bag and open it, grabbing a pair of shorts and matching shirt, before heading out and seeing him in the kitchen. “I’ll be quick,” I tell him, and he just nods at me as I hear a pan come out. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to make you a steak.”
“But I thought you said you kept dinner for me.” I look at him confused.
“Yeah, well, I have the sides, but the steak is going to be fresh,” he informs me, and I don’t say anything. I just walk to his bedroom because I’m afraid I might just sob out. No one has ever taken care of me like that. No one has made sure I ate during the day. I mean my parents, but that is what they’re there for. I’ve never had anyone who cared enough before to make sure I ate. I walk into the bedroom and see the bedside table lamp is on and his bed is made. I walk into the bathroom and turn on the shower, quickly undressing and folding my stuff to take out with me when I leave.
I step in and let the water rain over me, when the first tear escapes me. I wipe it away as another one comes and I fight them away. I don’t waste time, and when I get out of the shower and dry myself off, the aroma of steak now fills the house. I get dressed as fast as I can, grabbing my clothes and taking them with me. “Right on time,” he says, looking at me walking into the kitchen. “Just took the steak out of the pan.” He puts it on the plate.
“I’m just going to drop this in the room.” I hold up the clothes in my hand and he comes over to me.
“Give me that,” he says, grabbing my clothes from me, “and go eat.”
“You’re bossy,” I huff but don’t move from in front of him, wanting to touch him but not sure if I should. The way my stomach flips and flutters makes it even worse. I’ve been naked in his bed, yet standing in front of him, I’m so nervous I might throw up on his feet. I watch him walk back to his bedroom and then come back empty-handed. “Where are my clothes?”
“In my basket,” he states as if that is where they belong. “Why aren’t you eating?”
“How am I supposed to do my clothes if they are in your basket?” I close my eyes when the stinging starts again.
“I’ll throw them in with mine,” he replies.
“You do laundry?” I know the question is dumb but I’ve never thought of him as domesticated.
“If I want clean clothes.” He laughs. “Learned when I was eight that if I wanted clean clothes, I had to wash them myself.” He gives me a little insight into his past, something I’ve always been curious about, but never gotten the nerve to ask him.
“I can also do them,” I suggest. “I like doing it.”
“No one likes doing laundry, Lilah.” He laughs, and my hand moves before I can stop it, reaching up to his face, wanting to touch his face while he laughs.
“I actually do,” I say softly as my fingertips feel his cheek. “I’ll do it tomorrow.”
“Don’t you have homework to do?” he asks, and I nod.
“I’ll do a load before I leave.” I step even closer to him.
“How about I take care of that and you take care of your homework? Now, for the last time, go and eat.”
“Okay,” I agree, about to turn but get on my tippy-toes and kiss his lips. “Thanks for making me dinner.” I turn and walk over to grab the plate before going to the table and sitting down. “Will you sit with me?” I ask, and he comes over and pulls out the chair he always has sat in the last couple of times I’ve eaten here. “How was today?”