SARAH’S POV
I woke up with a sharp pain surging through me, my feet arching; the pain was unbearable, and I pressed my lips tightly to avoid screaming. Attempting to lift my foot, a silent gasp escaped my lips, my face grimacing in agony. I still hadn’t recovered from my knee sprain, and now another injury had been added to the collection.
“Does it still hurt?”
“A lot,” I said before my eyes widened in alarm as I registered the familiar voice.
There by the door was Mr. Clinton, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, his face filled with concern. He strode towards my bed and sat beside me, his eyes locking on mine, and for a split second, my pain turned to insignificance.
My eyes wandered over him as I fully checked him out. His dark brown eyes had a warm glow under the dim light, and his shirt was hardly done, revealing his chiseled, muscular chest. My eyes trailed to his lips, and that’s when I quickly stopped myself from drooling over him.
He waved his hands over my face, trying to call back my attention. “Where did you zone off to?” he asked scrutinizingly, his eyes forming into a squint.
“To your…” I trailed off, pointing to his chest. “It needs to be fastened. Let me do it for you.”
Without requiring his permission, I slid my fingers over his skin, my lips pressed in a thin line as I attempted to fasten his button. He immediately held my hand to stop me, his expression a mix of disapproval and frustration. He slapped my hands away, a frown etching his face. “You never listen; despite our last conversation, you still won’t give up.”
My shoulder rose in protest. “What’s wrong with what I did? If it were my father, I would have done the same; it’s just a friendly gesture…”
He looked away, sighing in exasperation. Brushing away his annoyance, he asked with genuine concern, “So how’s your foot?”
“It’s still hurting. I don’t think I will be able to attend lectures today,” I replied, glancing at the wall clock hanging on the wall. “I even woke up late again.”
Suddenly, I felt his hand on my head, his warmth spreading all over me. I was quite taken aback by his comfort; his hand ruffled my hair with a slight smile on his face. “The pain must have been too much,” he said, his voice low and soothing. This is the side of him that I have been longing for, the care and comfort he had shown me since I moved in, but it changed after he discovered my diary.
It seems getting hurt has its own advantages.
I returned the smile, truly satisfied by his care, our eyes locking in an earnest stare. I could feel the affection in his gaze, and there was something more… a flash of his emotion he was trying to conceal.
Just as the moment came, it disappeared into thin air.
He quickly took his hand off me, his wry smile faded. He cleared his throat, seemingly awkward about his own behavior, while I, on the other hand, saw through him. Why is he holding himself back? Why can’t he just admit it? Or am I interpreting his care the wrong way?
Not wanting to stir up another heated conversation, I brushed off my tons of questions and broke the tension.
“So, will your mom stay at home today?” I asked, an awkward glint in my eyes.
“Why are you asking?” he replied, hunching up on the bed, his gaze still fixed on me.
“Well, I don’t want to be lonely; I need someone to chit-chat with,” I said with a lipless smile, playfully swaying my shoulders.
He chuckled, realizing the hidden meaning behind my words. “Are you ambiguously asking me to ‘chitchat’ with you throughout the day so you won’t feel ‘lonely’?” he said, flexing his fingers mockingly.
My eyes rolled to the back of my head as I smiled awkwardly. “Nah, that’s not… what I meant…” I drawled in denial.
He shook his head, standing up from my bed. “If you need a companion, Erin will be here for you; she will assist with what you need. I have work to do.” With that said, he turned around, walking towards the door. As his hand hovered over the doorknob, he tilted his head in my direction.
“And be careful around the house; stop breaking stuff in anger. I don’t want you turning into a cripple before your father comes back for you,” he said and left my room, leaving me confused.
My brow knitted as I processed his words. “What did he mean by ‘breaking stuff in anger’?” I mimicked his expression, flexing my fingers. Then the meaning of his words settle on me. Did he perhaps think I broke the vase last night due to anger?
I was angrily walking to my room before I stepped on the shards. They were certainly broken before I got there.
Which begged the question: who broke it? I didn’t hear a sound on my way downstairs.
I shoved my head into my pillow, relieving my mind from the needless thought. I should be more bothered about my foot than anything else.
I felt like a cripple; the throbbing pain wouldn’t allow me to walk on my own, let alone step on the ground.
As I moped into my pillow, I heard a gentle knock on my door. “Come in,” I said, sitting up.
Erin walked in with a grin, her eyes scanning my body, my legs to be precise. “Good morning! Mr. Clinton told me you need… ‘help’…” she said, emphasizing the ‘help’ part, smiling mischievously.
Then it struck me. Could she be the one behind the broken vase in the living room last night? No, she wouldn’t do that on purpose. What could be her reason for doing something as cruel as that? Maybe it was just a minor accident, but her expression stated otherwise.
She sat beside me, her eyes fixed on my bandaged foot, her smile never faltering. “So how’s the pain?” she chuckled, her smile lipless. Her eyes trailed to my face, and then I knew something was up with her.
First, she stole my diary and threatened me with my secret; then, the sly smile she gave me on the road the other day… Everything about her seemed strange and also deliberate.
I masked my suspicion with a smile. “It’s throbbing, and thanks for your concern.”
Her smile faded, her expression turning serious. “Let me go prepare your bath…” she said and strode to the bathroom. Moments later, she arrived, leaning on the wall. “I can help you, you know,” she said, playing with her hair like a deranged maniac.
I propped myself up on my bed, wondering what she meant. “As in? Help me with what?”
She smiled wryly, slowly walking towards me. “I can help you win his heart and make him yours,” she said, tugging the strands of my hair.
I slapped her hands away, my face turning sour. “You just admitted you read the diary, and I asked you back then if you read it, and you denied it…” I snapped, eyeing her in disgust. “And I don’t need your help.”
She stared at me in silence for some time before shrugging. “Okay then, but you might regret not taking my help…” She said, her gaze menacing. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you…”