Rhys returned to the hotel suite after a long day of meetings and trainings, the weight of the day settling on his shoulders like a heavy, damp cloak. The fluorescent lights of the hallway buzzed softly, a stark contrast to the cacophony of the city outside.
He turned the key, the metallic click echoing in the quiet hallway, and pushed the door open, the scent of stale air and something faintly floral greeting him.
He was greeted by a dark living room, the absence of light a stark contrast to the bright, bustling city outside, a silent, almost accusing emptiness.
He sighed, flipping the light switch, the sudden brightness momentarily blinding him, and was immediately taken aback by the scene before him.
The living room had been transformed into a chaotic landscape of shopping bags, their paper and plastic surfaces scattered across the plush carpet like fallen leaves after a storm.
A trail of discarded shoes and socks snaked its way towards the bedroom, a disheveled path punctuated by the unexpected sight of his black jacket and, to his utter astonishment, a crumpled undergarment, its delicate lace a stark contrast to the masculine clutter.
Did a tornado hit this place? he wondered, a sigh escaping his lips, a mixture of exasperation and amusement swirling within him.
He picked up a stray sock, its soft cotton slightly damp, then the crumpled undergarment, its silken fabric cool against his skin, his brow furrowing.
Seriously, Heather?
He followed the trail, muttering under his breath, his footsteps muffled by the carpet, until he reached the bedroom, where Heather was sprawled across the bed, sound asleep, her face buried in the pillows, her soft breaths a gentle rhythm in the quiet room.
Rhys shook his head, a mix of exasperation and amusement swirling within him, a tender smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
He went to the bathroom, the cool tile a welcome sensation against his tired feet, placing the dirty clothes in the hamper, the soft thud a quiet punctuation to the mess.
After changing into more comfortable clothes, a soft cotton shirt and worn sweatpants, he returned to the living room, picking up the shopping bags and placing them neatly beside the couch, their contents rustling softly.
He then surveyed the room, his gaze lingering on the scattered items, the remnants of Heather's shopping spree, before deciding to tackle the task of making dinner, a familiar routine that offered a sense of calm.
The aroma of sizzling garlic and onions soon filled the suite, a comforting scent that cut through the lingering chaos, a warm, inviting fragrance.
Rhys moved around the small kitchen with practiced ease, his movements fluid and efficient, the clinking of pots and pans a rhythmic melody. As he cooked, his mind drifted to Heather, his thoughts a jumble of concern and affection, a mix of playful exasperation and tender fondness.
When Heather finally stirred, the scent of the cooking food pulling her from her slumber, she stretched languidly, her muscles protesting after a long day of shopping, her limbs heavy and warm.
She blinked, her eyes adjusting to the dim light filtering through the kitchen doorway, and then sat up, noticing the warm glow emanating from the kitchen, the soft clinking of utensils a gentle invitation.
She wandered out of the bedroom, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, her bare feet padding softly on the carpet, and found Rhys setting the table, his movements precise and efficient.
"Hey, you're back," she said, her voice still thick with sleep, her eyes half-closed, her hair tousled and charmingly disheveled.
"Yes. And the room was a mess when I got home," he replied, his tone light but laced with a hint of playful reprimand, a teasing glint in his eyes.
"Sorry. Was too tired when I got home, too. All I could think of was sleep," she said, a sheepish grin spreading across her face, her cheeks flushed with warmth.
Jeez. He's like a mom reprimanding her child for being messy, she thought, rolling her eyes playfully, a soft chuckle escaping her lips.
Heather moved to help, placing the plates and utensils on the table, her movements slow and deliberate, while Rhys arranged the dishes, the vibrant colors of the food a stark contrast to the white porcelain.
As they worked, an easy silence settled between them, a comfortable familiarity that had grown over the past few months, a silent language of shared moments and unspoken understanding.
"Would you look at that. We're like a newlywed couple about to have our first dinner in our new house!" Heather joked, her voice light and teasing, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
"You will marry me, right? After all, you made a promise all those years ago." She continued, her eyes twinkling, as she looked at Rhys, who halted in his steps, his face flushing a delicate pink, his hands suddenly still.
"Oh my god. I was a child then. You can't take the word of a child!" he mumbled, avoiding her gaze, his cheeks growing warmer, a blush creeping up his neck.
Oho. He's blushing, Heather thought, a mischievous grin spreading across her face, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
"Really? But I rejected a lot of my suitors back home because I was holding on to that promise," she teased, adding, I never had a suitor but what the hell. It's so fun teasing him.
Heather smiled, reaching for her necklace, the delicate chain cool against her skin. "I even kept the plastic ring you gave me then." She held up the pendant, a tiny plastic ring dangling from the chain, its faded colors a testament to time.
"See! I only remove this when I'm taking a bath!"
Rhys's face went a shade darker, his ears now tinged with red, the tips burning. Heather couldn't help but think of how cute he looked, his usual composure completely shattered, his stoic facade crumbling.
"S-stop teasing me!" He sat down in front of her, his movements a little too quick, the chair scraping against the floor, and started placing food on Heather's plate, his gaze fixed on the dishes, his movements jerky and hurried.
Did he just stutter? Ah! So fun, Heather thought, her eyes sparkling with amusement, her lips twitching with suppressed laughter.
"Why, are you taking it back?" she asked, fiddling with the ring, her gaze fixed on his reaction, her eyes filled with playful curiosity.
"No. I already gave that to you," he replied, his voice slightly strained, his words clipped. He started eating, his focus on the food, determined to avoid further conversation, the clinking of his utensils a rhythmic counterpoint to the silence.
Really now. Trying to avoid talking huh, Heather thought, her lips twitching, her eyes dancing with mischief. "Really? That's great! Then I'll just wait for your real proposal then. When will it be? In a year? Two? After I graduate from college?"
Just when she thought Rhys's face couldn't get any redder, it went another shade darker, a vibrant crimson that spread across his cheeks and ears.
In Heather's mind, if this was an anime, Rhys would be a chibi right now and his face would be so red that there'll be a steam coming out of his head.
Rhys choked on his food, a piece of rice lodging in his throat, a sudden, sharp pain. He immediately grabbed the glass and drank the water, the cool liquid soothing his burning throat, his face hot and flushed.
He could already imagine his face was now an even darker shade of red, a beacon of his embarrassment.
This girl is only 17 and look at what she's saying! he thought, his mind reeling, his thoughts a chaotic jumble. "Heather," he said, putting down his spoon and looking at her seriously, his eyes filled with a mix of exasperation and amusement.
Heather stopped fiddling with the ring, hiding it again in her pajamas, a playful smile still lingering on her lips. "Fine. I'll stop," she said, her voice laced with amusement, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
Rhys looked at her for a few more seconds, his expression still a mix of exasperation and amusement, a silent battle between playful annoyance and fond affection. When she picked up her spoon, he started drinking water, his gaze lingering on her, a silent question in his eyes.
"But you'll have to sleep with me tonight," Heather said, her voice casual, as she placed food in her mouth, her eyes fixed on his reaction.
Ppffffftttt
The water Rhys was drinking sprayed out of his mouth, a fine mist that landed on the table, the droplets glistening under the soft light. Good thing he wasn't facing Heather, or else it would have sprayed in her face instead!
Rhys coughed a few times, wiping his mouth with a towel, then the table, his movements jerky and flustered, and looked at her, his eyes wide with disbelief, his expression a mix of shock and amusement.
He waited for her to finish chewing her food, his expression a mix of shock and amusement, his eyes searching hers for any sign of deception.
"What? I meant it. Sleep with me," Heather repeated, her voice perfectly innocent, her eyes wide and guileless, her expression a mask of playful innocence.