No More Waiting, She Chooses Love

"Yeah." With that word, Ernest ended the call.

He was the man of the hour, the key figure in the lighting test, someone I couldn't afford to upset. So, I threw a jacket over my pajamas and knocked on his door. Ernest opened it, his gaze immediately landing on my still-damp hair, causing a noticeable swallow.

"Still hurts?" he asked.

I blinked, puzzled for a moment. "Sorry?"

His eyes dropped to my waist, and I instantly got it.

For some reason, my heart skipped a beat. "Oh, no, it's fine."

"Just a sec," he said and turned away, leaving me at the doorway.

I saw his laptop on the table through the open door, realizing he had been working while I was showering. His work ethic was quite impressive.

Ernest returned, his tall frame blocking everything behind him as I shifted my focus to him. He was still in the same clothes but with his T-shirt tucked in, making his legs look longer. He could easily pass for a runway model.

It wasn't hard to see why Deborah got so enchanted. After all, isn't beauty universally admired?

"Here, apply this. It's great for promoting circulation and reducing bruises," Ernest handed me a small bottle, a kind of ointment.

I took it. "Thanks."Copyright Nôv/el/Dra/ma.Org.

"If it gets worse, see a doctor," he added.

Ernest gave me the ointment and showed me concern. Was he worried about me?

The thought had barely crossed my mind when he continued, "I don't want anyone's health issues to delay our project."

I was speechless to hear that.

So, he wasn't concerned about me. It was just that he didn't want the work held up.

I scoffed internally at my wishful thinking but smiled, "Don't worry, Mr. Collins. I'm as keen as you are to wrap this up."

That way, I wouldn't have to deal with him anymore. And, I could report to Conrad and keep my distance.

"Thanks!" I waved the ointment at him before turning around.

Back in my room, I tossed the ointment onto the bed and sighed. For some reason, I felt inexplicably stifled and anxious.

Deborah came out of the bathroom

wrapped in a fluffy bathrobe,

jumping

onto the bed like a diver

hitting the water, only to yelp, "What the heck is this? It almost killed me."

She examined the ointment. "Where'd this come from? Is it yours?"

"What else?" I grabbed it back.

"Why do you have this? Are you hurt?" Deborah's question made me want to laugh.

Hadn't she seen me get bumped

into? But her focus was solely on when Ernest caught me, completely ignoring the collision. Ernest giving me the ointment meant he acknowledged I was hurt.

Suddenly, my thoughts were a mess. I closed my eyes, forcing myself not to dwell on it, and lay back, picking up my phone. There were several unread messages.

Fanny: [What are you up to?]

Dustin: [When are you free to show me around this maze of a city?]

Conrad's chat page was a notification. [Your friend has withdrawn a message.]

That last notification made me pause. What had Conrad withdrawn?

A mistake? Second thoughts? Or had Conrad said something in the heat of the moment?

My mind raced, but I decided to check Fanny's message first, preparing to reply.

Just then, my phone buzzed with a new friend request on WhatsApp. Opening it, I saw a profile picture of autumn leaves and the name Ernest.