Inevitable Flaw

Chapter 49: Clichés

"It's over there," he points with a genuine smile before brushing his hair to the back.

"Mum hung some clothes for you if you want to change into something more comfortable," he directs me to the almost empty walk-in closet.

"You want anything from the convenience store?" He suddenly asks while I glide my eyes over the contents Cici purchased.

"Advil," I quickly blurt, my head still embraced among the sky's feathers.

"Why, you okay?" he returns while the keys battle their cries in between his fingers. My entire body heats up at the concern in his voice.

"Yeah, just," I point to my stomach through a nervous laugh and his eyes understand in an instant.

"I'll be back in a bit," his scent leaves with him until only a trace of its remnant confides in the emptiness that follows.

My eyes widen at the suggestive articles behind the various silk pajamas and lounge wear. I feel my cheeks reinflame as I quickly situate them in their place and pick up the loose black sleep set.

The bathroom is a mass of marble, spacious enough to follow the echoes of my voice. I allow my eyes to roll to the back of my head as I step along the heated floors towards the central shower. I fumble through my purse for my hygiene products and settle for the toiletry products that Cici must have placed along the shower's limbs. I then set sail to the grim of the day's events in saturated heat.

I eventually return to noises from the television and a brief view of Adam's legs sprawled across the coffee table in the living room. I gulp and adjust the towel over my head while contemplating my next move. After enough torment, I run back to the bathroom to blow dry my hair and attempt at a nighttime skin care routine with the limited resources I have. And by limited, I mean water.

I stare back at the light brunette length that frames my face and follows along my shoulders to the back. I try to tease it as best as I can but it remains as limp as it was when it was wet. In the heat of my frustration, I carry its entirety to the back and place it into a bun, careful to linger a couple of strands in front of my ears. After reapplying my lip gloss, I take deep breaths and stroll casually into the pitch darkness of the main seating area.

I hear him straighten on the couch almost automatically and then see him proceed to mute the screen. I busy myself in search for a glass. It isn't long before I feel his eyes lingering at my every move. The nerves return.

"I put some water bottles in the fridge," he voices in subtle distraction. The sudden closeness of noise makes me jump.

"Okay," I try to slow my pace, but it isn't much of a task.

I quickly walk past the dimly lit kitchen and into the living room where the TV's images flicker along the furniture. Adam's head migrates from the admiration of his hands to steady in solitaire as his back grazes against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. I distract myself from his unwavering gaze by sitting along the furthest part of the couch to take a couple sips of the water.

"Do you remember when you wanted to dye your hair pink," he suddenly recalls, the amusement flowers in his tone.

"In fourth grade," I roll my eyes while returning the water bottle back to its place.

"I'm curious now, were you thinking of a light pink or..." he starts laughing, a deep throated melody I could never accustom to.

"No, I wanted the full effect- hot pink," I share in his laughter, my cheeks blooming.

"Even after I begged mama, she wouldn't allow it," I add as the silence returns.

He walks over to me, slowly and carefully, his eyes never missing mine. I feel the goosebumps elevate, my heart returns to its home in my throat.