At night.
By the time Hendrix came home, I had fallen asleep. I woke up when I heard water running in the bathroom.
Feeling a little befuddled after waking up, I stared at the ceiling for a while. Hendrix walked out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. He did not turn off the light in the bathroom, thinking that he might unintentionally wake me up.
I turned over and switched on the bedside lamp. When I turned around to look at him, I found that he was looking at me too. Droplets of water were dripping off his well-built chest. His short hair was wet, too.
He seemed momentarily taken aback to see me turn on the light. As he gazed at me, he gently raised the corners of his lips upwards into a smile. "Did I wake you up?"
I shook my head. I was a light sleeper.
He walked towards me, wiping his torso dry.
He passed me a towel, and I helped dry his hair.
"Any more reporters out there?" Although most of them had been drawn away by Freya's news, plenty of them still waited around.
Leading me to sit on his lap, he held me in his embrace. As he had just taken a shower, his chest felt a little cold to the touch.
"They're all gone!" He laid his chin on my collarbone. I could tell there was a tinge of fatigue in his voice.
"It's ticklish. Stop it!"
He said in a low voice, "Where is it ticklish at?"
I pursed my lips and could not help but scowl at him.
"Have you had your dinner?" His voice was soft and muted.
I nodded. "Yes!"
He interjected with a bite on my neck. I felt a tinge of pain. "You little liar. The food in the refrigerator was left untouched," he said.
I was at a loss for words.
Who in the world would be this observant?
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