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I could hear hurrying steps, and soon, Fiona appeared, short of breath and panting profusely.
“Oh my goodness!” She gasped upon sighting the disaster on the originally pristine floor.
“Are you hurt?” She leaped over the shards and impatiently inspected me. She brushed her finger against my face in the spur of the moment.
I was surprised at her reaction.
“No, I’m not.”
“What were you thinking?” Her eyes had grown red. She rubbed her palm against her head, distressed.
“I’m sorry,” was all I could mutter.
She turned away and began to carefully pick up the broken pieces. That was when I realized she was wearing only a towel.
I was taken aback.
“I’ll do that,” I said, gently pulling her away.
“No,” she looked at me with concern.
Was she not aware that she only had a towel wrapped around her? A towel so susceptible to loosening around her?
I carefully collected the pieces she had picked despite her obstinacy.
“It’s my mess.”
“But it’s my house,” she countered.
I didn’t want to take advantage of her ignorance, so I decided to keep my gaze away from her. However, she appeared so tempting that I kept on stealing glances at her.
Her bare shoulders were very smooth and rounded. The water droplets that clung to her skin glistened under the light.
“I’ll get a mop,” she said, cutting short my reverie.
Was I supposed to remind her that she was only wearing a towel?
It definitely sounded absurd, but I was uncomfortable.
However, as luck would have it, no sooner had she entered the kitchen with the mop than she saw something that made her dash upstairs, stifling an outburst of shock.
Upon her reappearance, I had cleared away the shards and wiped the floor clean.
She quietly came to sit, apparently embarrassed. Her face was burning red. I chuckled because she was so bad at hiding her emotions.
She sat frozen in the spot, mortified in her pretty knee-length dress.
I took the initiative to speak and first apologized for breaking her coffee cup.
“It’s fine,” she softly said, looking away.
“I think I should get ready for work.” I wanted to spare her the torment of sitting beside me, knowing how embarrassed she felt.
“Wait,” she said, out of the blue. “I think you need to know this.” She looked up at me with a hint of foreboding in her eyes.
“What is it?” I sat back.
“I was at your family’s farmhouse yesterday.”
