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Chapter Twelve - Neil

As much as I loved seeing her in my own clothes, I bet she was uncomfortable. When I left her this morning for work, she was all bundled up in her own blanket.

I am so ready for her to be snuggled up next to me again. I woke up at some point last night to her face pressed against my shoulder, and her light breaths fanning against it sent shivers throughout my entire body. 

How am I ever going to sleep without her again? I really shouldn't get too comfortable, but holy fuck.

Maybe I need to keep things platonic. Even though things were clearly not.

I could feel the way her eyes would roam over my arms when I wasn't looking, or when she would steal little touches here and there to show that she was comfortable with the proximity, but was unsure about how I felt.

She would pat me on the shoulder, rest her hand on my forearm when she laughed, she's even thrown a couple slugs into my chest when I'd offended her.

She didn't do any real damage, though.

She was just this sweet, stunning specimen of a woman.

And yet, she'd done the same thing I once did.

Her husband was dead by her hands. I am too afraid to ask Esther about how she recovered so well and how she was dealing with things today with the obviously everlasting memories of what took place. I don't ever want to make her upset or make her feel like she can't tell me. I want nothing more than to know for... my own personal reasons.

How was she when she did it? Was she hysterical? Cold? Numb? God forbid, aroused?

I shook my head. The shameful thing was that that thought was my own. I think whoever talks to me has really gotten a grasp on my own conscience.

Isn't it already my conscience?

I thought I established that.

Hm. Maybe not. I don't remember.

We finally pulled into the driveway of the garage that held up Esther's apartment, and all the lights up at the main house were off.

"You can stay down here if you want, I just gotta couple of things to grab and I'll be right back down—"

"I'd love to come with."

She looked at me, a little stunned, and nodded with a sarcastic 'yes sir' before exiting.

I smirked at the way she talked to me. She was so confident and humble at the same time.

I got out and made my way behind her up the stairs, and trust me, it took everything in me to not stare straight up her dress. Even though I already know that I would be overjoyed with seeing such an image, it felt wrong without her knowing.

I could just announce that I was planning on taking a peek, but then she'd totally push me down the stairs or something and tell me I could wait down there.

Her keys jingled into the lock and we both walked in to find it completely dark.

Esther clicked a few lights on and I was met with a very small, but functional, studio apartment. To the left was a small kitchen, just beyond that was a box next to her unmade bed that held up a lamp and chapstick, and in the middle of it all was a small pile of clothes. Then there was me, taking up so much space by the doorway.

Esther quickly got on her knees and started pushing her clothes under her old bed, "I am so sorry, I completely forgot about these."

She seemed quite nervous, flustered even.