No More Waiting, She Chooses Love

I was breathless, frozen in place. Ernest didn't move or speak, but his gaze was fixed on me. More accurately, we were locked in a stare. We just looked at each other, neither advancing nor retreating. I could even feel both our heartbeats accelerating...

Until the voice of Mrs. Johnson from next door broke the silence, "That new girl renting the place sure knows how to pick 'em. Look how clean he got the stairs."

That snapped me back to reality. I pushed Ernest away and hurried back to the living room. But once there, I didn't know what to do next, feeling utterly confused and flustered.

Ernest followed, breaking the awkwardness with ease, "Is this your parents' old house?"

I was puzzled about how he knew, but then I saw him walking towards a wall adorned with photographs. "You haven't changed much since you were a kid."

The wall held my certificates of achievement and a family portrait, with me in the middle, flanked by my parents, all of us wearing gentle smiles. Seeing their smiling faces now, though, there was a pang in my heart.

"You were a great student," Ernest remarked, eyeing my certificates - not just 'Star Student' but also 'Academic Excellence' and 'All-Rounder'.

"I'm still excelling," I said, unable to hide my pride.

Ernest looked at me, "Indeed."

He paused, then added, "In every aspect."

His direct gaze made it difficult for me to look at him. He was too straightforward, both in his looks and words. I didn't want any further entanglements with him, so I said, "You've helped a lot today. Let me treat you to dinner, and then I can help you look for a place."

I had shifted from reluctance to taking the initiative. Because I owed him a favor.

"Sure," Ernest didn't refuse, but then said, "I need to wash my face, got a towel?"

It was then I remembered the grime on his face and clothes, "Wait here, I'll go buy you a shirt."

Our area, though remote, had a local supermarket nearby that sold pretty much everything.

"No need," Ernest refused, "Just a towel will do. I'll just wipe it off."Published by Nôv'elD/rama.Org.

I wanted to insist, but his firm look made me relent. I went to the bathroom, grabbed my towel for him, "Here, use this one. I don't have a new one."

He simply responded with a

"Thanks," and started to wash his

face. For some reason, I didn't leave. I watched him wash his face in a rugged manner, splashing water all over even running his hands through his hair a couple of times.

Though it wasn't cold, he was using cold water. I was about to remind him when he began drying his face and hair with the towel. When he looked up, he saw me standing behind him in the mirror.

At that moment, I felt embarrassed again, as if caught spying. I didn't know why I felt so flustered and lost around him again. It was like being an inexperienced young girl when it came to matters of the heart.

Even though Conrad and I were discussing marriage, we never really shared these sweet, intimate moments.

Just like Jefferson said, Conrad and I were more like siblings - there was affection, but not the kind of thrill you get from a romance.

"Aren't you cold?" I asked him through our reflection in the mirror.

"I've always used cold water, got used to it in the military," he said, inspiring both admiration and sympathy in me.

Is cold water a military thing?