What if it's worth it?

Chapter Thirteen

The first night had gone by quickly. Mainly, I supposed, because of the exhaustion caused by the adrenaline. Without bothering to turn on the lights, I had undressed by the window and pulled on some simple pyjamas I found in the suitcase I hadn't packed. None of this was mine, the clothes, the bedroom, the life but before I could start thinking about the current situation any longer, sleep had quickly come over me.

The next day was a different story altogether. I didn't get up until eleven and didn't even leave the bed

until noon. Somehow, I still felt sleepy. When I did finally exit my bedroom, I immediately collided with David, or rather with his torso, in the hallway. Considering the steam coming out of the bathroom and the towel secured around his waist, I figured he had just stepped out of the shower.

"Sorry," I muttered, pulling myself away from him at once, for some reason still startled. I avoided looking up at him for the longest of time, but when he didn't remove his warm hands from my shoulders, I had no other choice. Slowly, I raised my gaze to look at him and was surprised to find him still sporting the stubble.

"Are you okay, Alma?" He inquired, concern evident in his voice, his hands feeling increasingly hotter on my shoulders. I noticed his jaw twitching as if he wanted to add something, but the movement it was gone before I could be sure I had even seen it. I shook my head softly, my eyes tightly shut as I internally cursed at myself when I realized what was happening.

"Yeah," I breathed out before prying myself away from him. "It's just fatigue."

I quickly hurried downstairs to the kitchen, almost falling down after my toes got caught in the carpet but managing to grab the handrail just in time. I was already by the counter, eating some disgusting ready meal I had heated up in the microwave when David came waddling into the kitchen, fully dressed in mesh sport slacks and a plain black t-shirt. It was only then that I remembered that I was still wearing pyjamas and wondered whether I ought to change next time I leave my room.

"Are you feeling better?" He asked lightly, opening the fridge next to me and taking out a plastic package and putting it in the microwave. My brows knitted together for a moment as I thought about my answer. I still remembered how angry he had been when he'd found out I indulged in cocaine and I speculated mentioning it again would make things more tense if that was even possible.

"I was just hungry." I lied, not looking at him as I threw the cutlery into the sink and walked over to the bin to discard the package. I could feel his stare on my back while I walked around the small room, cleaning up behind myself. I wanted to leave but I'd have to walk past him and worried he'd figure out what was going on when he saw my face. But then, the microwave's strident alarm rang through the room and I jumped up before clutching the counter with all my strength to calm down. David didn't share my habit of stopping the timer before the countdown was over.

"This stuff is gross!" David blurted out suddenly and I couldn't help the small smirk that reached my lips. Yes, that shit was gross, indeed.Slowly, I pried my fingers away from the tiled counter and turned around. He was still eating the pasta even though it tasted nothing like it was supposed to and it made me wonder whether he'd eat just about anything.

"I guess we'll have to cook, then." I said, barely aware that sounds were leaving my lips. I waited until his attention had diverted to the food again, before I strode out of the room and straight into the living room where I flopped down on the couch, hoping some more sleep would resolve this.

I woke up hours later with strange, muffled sounds. For a second, I wondered whether there was someone other than David in the house but then I quickly realized it was just the TV and I allowed myself to keep my eyes closed a little longer. Squirming against the pillows, I felt that my feet were propped up on something soft and warm before coming to the conclusion that David had rested them on his lap. The couch was most likely too short for him to sit down otherwise. I was about to pull them back, suddenly aware I hadn't showered when groans and moans came out of the TV. Was he watching porn?