All this stress and emotion is really getting to me, she mused, as she avoided looking at her former boss. I feel so weak, and now I'm getting nauseated. Better not show it, or Adrian will flip out….
Upon entering the house, Adrian noticed that the newspapers on the kitchen were in a neat pile, and that the cough syrup was missing. He walked over to the island, putting his hand on the surface.
"I put the DayQuil away and cleaned the cap," Sharona remarked. "Is that what you were looking for?"
"Uhm, yes…." He turned to his former nurse. "You didn't have to do that—"
She sloughed it off with a smile and a little motion. He continued to his bedroom, where he knew the laundry basket would be. It was gone. Sharona appeared behind him.
"I, um, did your laundry," she added, "and I put it away."
He smiled at her appreciatively, then opened the armoire and hung the police jacket back on its hanger, pulling the dustcover back over it. After he finished he looked at her.
"You didn't have to straighten up the place, Sharona. It was atrocious."
"Well, I wanted to. And no, your apartment is not atrocious. You should see my house."
It was a bit uncomfortable, to say the least. Adrian was grateful to Sharona for having straightened his apartment, but what had her motivation been? It was probably to soften the blow of her departure….
"Sharona—" he began to say.
"It's okay, Adrian. It didn't take very long…."
He approached her as she watched him cautiously. Without warning, he put his hand on her bare upper arm. She stared at it, waiting for whatever was to occur. Had he really gotten that much better, for skin-to-skin contact to no longer bother him? Maybe there was hope—she shut the thought out of her mind, returning to the reality of the situation.
"Not only did you bring me back to health, but you cleaned my house. Sharona, I'm not going to be able to let you go, I hope you're aware of that." He chuckled nervously, to keep his comment a step below dead-seriousness.
She put her head down, for eye contact with her former boss was too difficult at the moment. All the emotion and intensity of his whole being had always been conveyed in his eyes, and right now, to gaze into them, along with the addition of his hand to the mix made it… over-stimulation.
He noticed her negative response, so he removed his hand from her arm. The feeling of her skin warmed the palm of his hand, but he figured it was because of nervousness, that he had been sweating. He actually expected her to wipe her own arm from the contact. For some reason he didn't feel the urge to wash his hand, just a general exhaustion from the day's occurrences.
"Well, I'm going to get changed," he said, slipping past Sharona to go to his dresser. He pulled out a bagged pair of pajamas, his favorite maroon ones. The blonde left his room silently, heading for her own suitcase.
After they were both in their pajamas, Adrian left his bedroom to ensure that nothing was out of place. It was his custom, to make last checks of the locks, the chairs, the sinks, and the toilet paper supply. As he walked down the hallway toward the dining room, Sharona appeared around the corner, running into him, eliciting yips from both.
"I'm sorry," she muttered. "Do you have any sleeping pills, by any chance?"
"You can answer that question yourself," Adrian replied, half-laughing. "The only medicine I have is what you bought me."
"Then that's a no. It's too bad you don't have a television in the living room, it always helps me slee—"
She had done it again, now admitting her many sleepless nights since her move back to New Jersey.
"I-I have a television in my bedroom," he said, signaling to the open door of his room. "You can watch it for awhile, if you'd like."
"—But that's your bedroom. That's your bed."
"Captain Stottlemeyer sat on it before. That sort of thing doesn't—bother me…."
He was fibbing a bit with that statement, for the very next day he had had the comforter washed three—no, four—times, and had used it noticeably less since the occurrence.
"Okay, then. But only if you don't mind, Adrian."
"No, I don't mind."
He turned around, heading for the bedroom, neglecting his last check of the lock. Eh, besides, he could specifically remember checking the lock twice after entering the apartment. That was the main importance, the security of a locked home.
"Wait a second—" she said, grabbing the back of his pajama shirt. "You know what? Never mind; you need your sleep," she said. "You've had a tiring day."
He spun around to face her. She was preparing to retreat to the living room couch again.
"No, watch some television. In fact, I'll watch some with you."
"Now, are you serious about this? It's almost midnight, Adrian."
He nodded, smiling at her. She began following him again as he led her to his room.
Sharona waited until Adrian had taken his spot on the left side of the bed—well, right side to him, now that he was on the bed—and stood by the bedside, watching him. Maybe he'd change his mind about letting her sit next to him, now that she was actually standing before him.
Instead, he patted the bed, studying her facial expressions. He grabbed the remote control and switched on the television as she climbed into bed and sat atop the comforter.
Once she was seated next to Adrian on such a… personal piece of furniture –most likely the very bed he had shared with Trudy—she felt a slight uneasiness, and looked at him to figure out his thoughts.
He was staring downwards, in her direction, at what appeared to be her thigh. Oh, the discomfort was only growing between them, minute by minute! Why was he being so… obvious about it? Well, she had been pretty obvious back at the hospital, when he had first gotten out of bed. Whatever slight or major change had occurred in Adrian these past five months, she found herself liking it. And the term 'absence makes the heart grow fonder' probably fit the situation as well.
She faced forward stiffly, attempting to focus her concentration on the program at hand. The interested stare from Adrian was giving her butterflies in her stomach, but she found herself actually liking the feeling and wanting more of it. As she attempted coyness, in her peripheral vision she could sense the detective slowly leaning in towards her…. Oh my, this can't really be happening to me…. and with Adrian, of all people. I'm married, for God's sakes; but he knows that, so what can he—maybe I'll just pretend I don't see him….
Yes, I know it's short, but please review anyway:)