I frown as the thought hits me. I lived on the sixth floor, so I never cared about shutting my curtains unless I wanted to sleep in. Which means, he and whoever else had been watching me probably saw me masturbate more than once in the past week. My cheeks heat up. To think someone saw me doing that, that he could've seen me doing that. I want to die. I never thought anyone would be watching when I lived on the sixth floor.
Well, I'm going to have to forget that fact if I'm ever going to be able to look him in the eye again. I'm sure he doesn't care. It's clear to me he has no attraction to me. His words from the night before still playing in my head. It's clear he doesn't see me as anything more than a woman who needs his help. I haven't got a single threatening vibe off him. Which is saying something because I know he kills people to make his living.
However, he hasn't made me feel like I need to fear him. There's something about him that makes me feel safe. Like this morning, when he woke me up from one of my nightmares. It startled me at first because I've never had someone around that can comfort me after a nightmare. Instead of pushing him away and wanting him as far from me as possible, I cried into his chest and let him hold me. I don't remember the last time that I let someone touch me. It felt nice to be held, but I forced myself to move away from him because the last thing either of us needs is for me to catch feelings for him.
He doesn't need some girl half his age to be chasing after him like some lost puppy. I don't want him to have to do the awkward thing of rejecting me when he's made it clear I don't have a chance in hell, even if it feels like we get along well. He doesn't get offended by my standoffish humor. He took it with stride and joked with me.
Hell, even tried to respect me as much as possible and sleep on this small sofa. I don't think even I could comfortably sleep on this thing. I wasn't having that, so I'm glad he came and lied in the bed after I woke him up. Having him there next to me made me feel oddly safe. I didn't start having a nightmare until he stepped out of the room. I woke up briefly when he moved to sit up but fell back to sleep seconds later.
I sigh. I've had very few crushes in my life, and he can't be one of them. I have a feeling it will hurt the worst to be rejected by a good-looking man like him. Turning off the movie, I go to find a different one. I'll watch this one later when I feel like starting it over. It may be a long week by myself, but I'll make it through it. I've had worse than being forced to watch TV, read, or sleep for a week straight.
* * *
I wake up as the clock's alarm blares. I figured out how to set it after I played around with it a bit. I wanted to remain on some kind of schedule. Without the sun to regulate when I sleep, a schedule is key, so I don't end up sleeping at a time when Porter might show up. Today is Friday if my makeshift calendar is accurate.
I get up, shower quickly, and get dressed. I don't know why I'm so excited to see him, but some human interaction will be nice. I spend the morning washing the sheets so they'll be fresh and making sure the place is cleaned up. I have nowhere to take the trash, I can't leave the bag out in the middle of the woods, so the trash has been gathering in two bags by the hatch. I hope he can take them with him and dump them somewhere.
I took the steaks down to defrost in the fridge, he said he wanted those for when he comes.
By noon, it becomes a waiting game. I've cleaned everything and remade the bed, there's nothing else for me to do, so I put on one of The Beatles albums I found and pick one of the thicker books to settle down with. I used to be into reading a lot as a kid but haven't picked up a book since I was taken. It's strange to read again, I'm not as fast as I once was, but I'm finding comfort in it again. It helps me to be more in my head and not in this bunker.
At almost six in the evening, I've made it halfway through the Hobbit as the hatch opens. I jump up, still startled by the invading sound, even though I knew it would be coming. Part of me worries that it's not him and another hitman has found me. But I only went up for air once this week and just stuck my head out. If the hitmen know I'm here because of that little moment, then I guess I deserve to die.
The hatch closes and a second later he comes down the hall, bags in his hands. I smile at him. "Hi."
He smiles back and looks around. "Hi. Listening to the Beatles? Nice. I love them, too. How have you been managing?" He heads to the kitchen and puts the bags down.
I follow him and wait for him to look at me. "It's been easier than I thought it would be. I've been exercising as well down here and it's made me more hungry."
He raises a brow as he looks at me, his blue eyes twinkle from the lights overhead. man, I really must be missing human connection if I'm finding him beautiful in yellow lighting.
"Yeah? What kind of exercises?"
“Push-ups, sit-ups. Different stretches I remembered doing in PE as a kid."
He pulls out a couple of bottles of red and white wines, along with a bottle of vodka and some sprite. Well, it looks like he's planning to get me drunk. He probably wants me to talk to him. Tell him my past. I've thought and thought about this. I figure I should tell him something. He's risking his ass to help me, I doubt it's easy to hide me. And he didn't have to help me like he has. He could've left me to the WPP to handle, and I would be terrified in another state wondering when someone new is going to find me and kill me all because I put their leader in prison for the next two hundred years, which he won't even make it another ten years alive.
"How many pushups can you do?"
"Thirty before my arms start to want to give out on me, thirty-five if I push past that."
He nods as he opens the fridge to put the alcohol in it with the sprite. "I want you to do that three times a day. Keep pushing yourself to your limit, and then break for a bit before doing it again. Do it with anything you're working on. It will help you build muscles, and don't forget to eat protein. Also, take every other day off, so you don't get muscle fatigue."
A strange flutter enters my stomach. Normally, I would be pissed with someone telling me to do something. I'd want to rebel. But when it comes from him, it makes me want to do it, so that he can be proud of me. Maybe he would even give me praise. Why do I want that from him? That's not like me. Why do I care? It has to be because I haven't seen another person in a week.
I walk over to see what's in the other bag, choosing to not respond and confirm that I heard what he said. Just because he told me to do it, doesn't mean I have to do as he says. Even though I plan to and will.
Reaching into the bag I pull out some potatoes, garlic, rosemary, and butter, along with some asparagus. I look at him. "If I didn't know better, I would think you're trying to seduce me with this meal you have planned.
His eyes widen as a pink hue enters his cheeks and travels above his beard to his forehead. "I didn't mean for it to come off like that. It's just what I normally have with steak. Thank you for taking them out of the freezer so they could defrost."
Now it's my turn to raise a brow at him. I was only joking with him, but he's cute when he's flustered. Maybe he really was a Ducky in high school. I didn't believe him when he told me that. Someone as good-looking as him had to have been a lady killer all his life.
I smile and step forward to pat him on the chest. I sign, "Easy, big guy. I didn't mean to ruffle your feathers. I know you're not into me like that. I get it." I hide the bit of pain I feel behind a smile. Even if I was closer to an age he would be willing to date, that doesn't change the fact that below my breasts my body is riddled with torture scars. I can't even look at my body, how can I ever expect someone else to want to look at it?
He frowns at me for a split second, I don't know what that expression meant, but he points toward the movie shelves on the other side of the wall. He pulls another bag out of the food one I missed. "Why don't you go put these on the shelf, and if there's any of them that you want to watch, put it on. I'll get dinner done while you do that."
I take the bag from him and turn. Well, if that's not a rejection, I don't know what is. He clearly wants me as far away from him as possible.
