It must have been her nerves. The only thing she could seem to focus on as she tried to breathe was that the man’s eyes were a deep blue, not black, like they had appeared to be from a distance.
When she had successfully completed several deep inhales, he motioned for her to uncover her ears. As she did, he slowly came to a stand and ran his hand through his hair, sliding his bangs away briefly before the white strands fell to cover his face again.
Her hands fell to her lap only to wring the fabric of her shirt in their grasp. A small hiccup left her throat.
“You ought to relax,” he said. “That amount of stress can hardly be healthy for you.”
She sniffled loudly, flinching slightly when he unexpectedly reached out and pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. His expression became tense.
“You’re running a temperature.”
As his hand fell away, her own replaced it. Her shoulders slouched. “Great.”
“Are you allergic to any medications?”
Suri furrowed her brows at him as he walked away before she could answer. He entered the kitchen, reaching into the upper cabinets for what appeared to be a small blue box. While he searched through its contents, her eyes caught the ceramic teapot on the stove and the white teacup on the counter.
The whistle. It was just the teapot.
She sighed heavily and rolled her eyes. Of course, she thought as the man returned to her side with glass of water and a white medicine bottle. He handed her the pills and gently placed the glass atop the coaster on the large table for her.
“Drink two of those and that entire glass of water,” he directed. “Once you’re ready, you should move back to the bedroom and lie down.”
She cleared her throat and took the pain relievers as he had instructed—if only to drink the water she required. What was he going to do, kill her? He would have just left her in the tracks if that were the case. Though his tone left little room for debate, she tried anyway.
“I’m not tired.”
“You’re sick,” he said, “You need to rest.”
“I can’t sleep.”
“No matter. Simply stay in the bed until you fall asleep.”
Her eyes narrowed at him, causing him to return her challenging glare with a mild one of his own. He was bossy and blunt; not exactly what she envisioned when she pictured a heroic savior. Except as his expression hardened, she faltered, blinking her glare away and curling up on the chair. Apparently, that was a mistake too.
“Feet off of the furniture.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Mind your manners, young lady.”
She stood abruptly then, causing him to cross his arms over his torso. He seemed to take issue with everything she did. She was the one who had almost died right? Most people would be throwing looks of pity and consolidation at her, but he just continued to watch her with a frigid gaze, cataloging all her subtle movements and expressions meticulously.
“You’re not my dad,” she said finally, squaring her feet off. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
“Is that so?” He scoffed when she nodded and maintained her challenging demeanor. A tense smirk appeared on his features, revealing the dimple in his cheek. “Splendid. Then why don’t we return you to his sound keeping, so that you can stop accosting me? In my own home, nonetheless.”
She flinched. Her entire attitude wavered before she quickly dropped her gaze to the floor. His tone had done this thing, something she had noticed while he was talking to the paramedics and police at the station. The words that he chose were nice, but the true intentions of his words were layered with sardonic undertones and condescension. Her head bowed slightly in apology.
If she kept pushing, he would surely kick her out. And right now, with her uniform being washed and patched up and her wallet and keys missing after the disaster at the train station, she didn’t have the means to be disagreeable.
“The couch,” the man said. He gestured towards the couch and nodded at the television. “Lie there and watch something until you’re properly tuckered out.”
His demeanor eased, and he returned to the kitchen, leaving her to stand there foolishly or do as he had suggested. So, Suri sat heavily upon the couch.
She may not have been tired enough to sleep yet, but she no longer had the energy to argue with him. Not to mention that she wasn’t sure why she was fighting with him in the first place. This was the man who had brought her to his condo after she had blathered and cried. He had saved her. Shouldn’t she be grateful about that?
She leaned to the side, letting herself fall into the couch cushions in defeat and grabbing one of the fluffy white throw pillows to nuzzle into. The cool leather soothed her warm skin and the smell of rosewood which had been obvious as the man held her earlier that day faintly scented the fabrics surrounding her. She quickly realized that her body was aching.
A white teacup was gently placed on the table before her. Her eyes timidly looked back towards the man. How could she be grateful when she didn’t even remember his name?
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