It was already afternoon.
Josh left after the conversation, trying hard to make me believe in his skills, which I highly doubt. I just nodded along and decided to stay in until all the dust had settled down.
While I made my bed and cleaned the apartment, Linda also came in, and I never felt too happy to see her. Almost begging her to make something delicious and healthy, I went back into my room.
Getting my clothes, I rushed into the bathroom. I took my sweet time and took a long bath, which completely loosened all my strained muscles.
By the time I got out of the bathroom, an aroma filled the whole apartment, and my already empty stomach growled in response.
Caressing it, I stepped into the kitchen. Linda was busy cutting veggies for the salad. As her gaze fell on me, she stated, "The lunch is almost ready." I nodded along, taking a whiff of whatever amazing food she was making.
Linda liked to try different cuisines, and Dave allowed her to do so as long as it matched with his diet. If not for Dave, she would surely be a chef in some Michelin-star restaurant.
"It smells amazing, Linda. What did you cook?"
The moment I asked the question, her hands stopped and her eyes gleamed with sparkles. She seemed like a little girl who was asked about her favourite cartoon character.
She lifted her chin proudly as she replied, "Today, I have tried Indian cuisine."
I raised my eyebrows, not knowing she would have an interest in south asian food. She continued breaking the chain of my thoughts as she explained the dish, "It's basically called khichdi, and it is very healthy.
Normally, it is made with simple lentils and some spices but I also added some veggies to make it healthier."
I nodded along, not showing the confusion on my face, as if she noticed, then she would make me sit like a student and teach me everything about their cuisine.
I kept bobbing my head until she stopped and replied, "That's interesting."
I stated it with utter confidence, to which she responded with a big smile. She waved her hand at me, "Oh, come on, it's just basic."
Yeah, totally basic like bread butter.
I was thankful that the cuisine topic ended and was going to walk out when Linda asked, "Did Dave wake up?"
I went still at the question. God, how could I forget? Dave.
Since yesterday, he has been sleeping. Should he be sleeping that much?
The question started my brain to overthink again. Last night, too, he did not wake up, though he was a light sleeper. What if he got into a coma?
God, could it be possible?
My heart started to run at the speed of a freaking bullet train. Should I call the doctor? or Grandpa Albert?
Thinking of Grandpa, a pang of guilt hit me. He called me here to heal Dave, and now, he might be in some grave danger because of me. God, why am I so stupid?
Linda was still telling about her argument with the baker because he did not get the right bread, but my mind kept racing miles per second, coming to the conclusion that Dave was being injured or harmed.
I have to check on him immediately.
With this, I thought I left the kitchen the next second. Almost sprinting towards his room, my legs stopped at his door.
God, should I knock?
What if he were awake by now? What if he did not want to see me? What if he forgot me?
The what-ifs kept running until my hand came into contact with the cold handle. The coolness seared through my skin, sending shivers through my body.
Slowly bending the handle, I pushed through the door, but did not enter that instant. Peeking through the door, looking around.
The bed was empty, as half of the blanket had fallen down from the bed.
He is not here. Did he wake up?
The thought almost made me sigh in relief when the sound of the shower started to come from the other side.
I raised my one eyebrow. He is in the bathroom, but his head is still injured.
God, he might wet the wound, which could cause an infection. The thought was valid and almost striking.
I quickly walked towards the bathroom, my hand in the air about to knock when another thought struck me.
If he is bathing there, then he would be naked.
Wow, who showers with clothes on, smart pants? I shook my head in disappointment; sometimes my intelligence could drop to a five-year-old child.
I turned about to take the next step when I stopped midway. Though he was showering but I could not risk him infecting the wound. The risk was more to ignore it completely.
I would have to go in. No matter if he would judge me or scream at me, I will not budge. I was here to take care of him on Grandpa's request. So, I am going to do what I was here for.
Making the decision, I turned to knock on the bathroom door, when I got hit with something hard. Maybe the door, but why was it warm and wet?
I looked up to see what it was that I got into as my eyes landed on two chocolate shade orbs.
Jesus, why do I have to embarrass myself like this every freaking time?
I internally screamed at myself.
I mentally slapped myself while blinking up—only to find myself face-to-face with... a chest.
A bare, very wet, very sculpted chest.
Oh no.
Oh God.
Oh, damn it.
My brain just refused to register anything except the fact that Dave was standing right in front of me, freshly out of the shower, with only a thin towel hanging dangerously low on his hips.
And when I say low, I mean one sharp inhale away from a disaster kind of low.
He had water dripping down from his hair, trailing along his jawline, sliding past his collarbone, slowly making its way down his chest and—
Nope. Nope. Not going there.
Abort mission.
I took an awkward step back, blinking rapidly like that would reset my brain or something. Spoiler: it didn't.
He opened his mouth, maybe about to question or scold me. In reflex, I tried to step back but got staggered by the soft fur rug.
My foot slipped, almost losing my balance, when my hands struggled to catch onto something as a scream escaped from my mouth.
My one hand caught something, but it was of no use as I butt hit hard on the floor.
I hissed in pain, rubbing my bottom, when my eyes fell on the thing that my hand caught.
A white towel.