No matter how many tis I’ve seen that clueless expression on his face, I couldn’t bring myself to get used to it or the way that my heart leapt strangely in my chest.
“But Jenna said...” I murmured before my mouth hung open and I was at a loss for words.
Did she fool ? Had I been worrying about nothing at all all this ti?
The expression I had on my face must have been quite amusing because it managed to make Bradon laugh.
“Oh, I guess she just ant to say that I’m a little overworked...” he said after his laughter had cald down sowhat.
“You’re overworked? So, that ans that you’re still sick...right?” I asked as my worries returned.
“I guess...” Bradon mumbled without eting my eyes.
“Are you or are you not feeling unwell?” I asserted my question again.
“What would you do if I told you that I’m feeling unwell?” he asked before grinning at .
“Stop playing gas with ! Just answer honestly, are you sick or are you not sick?” I demanded to know.
Brandon seed to think about my question seriously as if he was weighing the pros and cons of each option. I began seriously doubting if he was even sick in the first place if he still had it in him to play mind gas with . However, I couldn’t imagine Jenna lying to about sothing so serious.
“That depends,” he replied in short without any further explanation.
“On what?” I asked as I narrowed my eyes at him suspiciously.
“Will you take care of if I’m sick?” he asked as his eyes kept on staring at my face intently.
“I don’t know. So, are you really sick?” I repeated my question again.
Brandon did have a habit of coming back ho late, especially when he wanted to avoid . That made it very hard for to distinguish whether his work was truly busy or not. It did occur to that there was a good fair chance that he had truly overworked himself.
“I should feel better with so rest. You don’t have to worry,” he replied a little coldly before turning away from .
Doesn’t that just an that he’s not feeling well?
His straight forward reply was quite unexpected and that made wonder if he was hiding sothing from . Sotis I wish that I wasn’t so suspicious of him, and that I could take his word at face value. However, I found that extrely hard to do. Before I could say anything to him, Bradon turned on his heels and walked deeper into his bedroom before sitting down on top of his bed.
“Are you going to sleep now?” I asked as I also approached the bed.
“Is there sothing else you’d rather I do instead?” he asked before his lips curved into a mischievous smirk.
I caught on to his attempt at a dirty joke right away but I wasn’t in a mood to respond. The truth was that there was sothing that I would rather him do before he went straight to bed.
“Your hair is still wet. You’re not really going to bed like that, are you?” I asked although I had already expected the worst.
Brandon might not have a cold now but he was still feeling unwell. Has no one ever told him that he shouldn’t go to bed with his hair wet like that, especially when he’s not feeling well?
“I am,” he replied in short as if it was the most normal thing to do.
“You shouldn’t do that. You need to dry your hair first,” I replied while sounding quite bossy.
“Then dry my hair for ,” he replied imdiately.
My mouth fell open at his suggestion, and I suddenly started feeling embarrassed. Bradon looked at with wide eyes filled with expectations as he waited for to make my next move and then he was smiling gleefully like a child. That was when I realized that I had just played right into his hands. I should have known that I shouldn’t have worried about him, and that he would be fine no matter what obstacle ca his way even if it was the flu.
Despite knowing that I still couldn’t leave him alone...
“Fine, I’ll dry your hair for you,” I said in complete resignation while telling myself that it wouldn’t end up killing .
“Thank you, Dahlia” he thanked in an exaggerated sweet voice.
After securing the hair dryer and plugging it into the electrical socket right next to the head of his bed, I found myself sitting on the bed behind Bradon while running my finger through his wet hair. With the hair dryer in one hand, I began blow drying his hair while coming through his hair with the fingers of my other hand. It felt very strange and I never dreamt in my life that I would be helping Bradon dry his hair before bedti.
“You’re quite good at this...” he comnted teasingly.
“Your complint doesn’t sound at all genuine,” I pointed out coldly.
“Really? I really ant it, though. Plus, I think it feels very nice when you’re touching my hair.,” he said before letting out a soft laugh.
I wanted to tell him that I also enjoyed touching his hair but I decided against it. Running my fingers through his hair whenever we were close and intimate had been sothing that I enjoyed. His hair felt so fine and I found it relaxing to pet his head, although he rarely gave the chance to do so.
“How are things at work? You’ve been coming ho late so have things been busy at work lately?” I asked to change the topic while wondering if he was actually just coming ho late to avoid seeing .
“It’s not too bad...” he replied vaguely.
“Did sothing...bad happen at work?” I asked hesitantly when I decided to probe him a little.
“I guess you could say that. It’s not super bad, it’s the usual level of bad. You don’t have to worry,” he replied like it was nothing.
–To be continued...
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