Hey There, Delilah

This Bond, These Wounds, Run Deep

Song: late night vibe playlist by Mildridge III

Ambrose roughly dragged the towel through his black hair until it hung over his eyes, damp and soft. He dabbed his chest then tied the towel around his waist before stepping out of the small bathroom. Steam blew out into the cold apartment. He absentmindedly scratched his stomach and followed the source of the quiet whispering.

Peeking into Cameron's room, he found the kid dozing off in his twin bed. Decked out in Iron Man blankets and pillows (it was a new phase of his) with a single panda stuffed animal. Jill's small body was curled around his. She read the last few words of the chapter from The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe aloud. When she finished she slid the bookmark back in between the old pages and placed it on the nightstand.

Their eyes met and Ambrose smiled, motioning for her to follow him. Jill couldn't help but let her eyes fall to admire his defined abs and the dark happy trail leading downwards. Her stupid heart pitter pattered. It wasn't fair, really. Why couldn't her best friend have grown up to be someone ugly? Why did he have to look like a marble sculpture? Complete with sinfully crafted back muscles and a broad chest that looked like it would be comfy to lay on. It was almost unfair, really.

They entered Ambrose's room and Jill watched while he rifled through his drawers then pulled out sweatpants and a shirt. "So we don't wake up Cameron going through your stuff," he explained, handing the clothes to her.

"He's still that light of a sleeper?" she asked. The bundle of clothes smelled like lavender and vanilla bean. It was the same brand he'd been using three years ago. The only detergent that Cameron didn't complain about annoying his sensitive nose. "Would've thought he'd grown out of that by now."

Ambrose shrugged. "Depends. If it's just talking then he might not wake up. But if you're moving stuff around and it makes noise, he'll get up to look for the source."

"Hopefully Vincent has thicker walls."

Ambrose snorted, slipping on red, plaid pajama bottoms underneath the towel. He tossed the towel into the white hamper and rubbed his eyes. Wearing contacts all day always irritated him but it wasn't like he had much of a choice given his current line of work.

He slipped on his thick glasses and Jill cursed him to hell and back. She was so weak. So, so weak considering the man she'd left had truly let himself go. At 37 he could easily pass for someone in his late forties with the poor condition his body was in. Sex with Noah was always so nauseating with his beer belly pressing against her stomach. Caging her in a position she found herself having to dissociate from just to endure the whole ordeal. Duty sex. Something she never knew was a thing until she fell into a rabbit hole on Reddit carved out for sad marriages.

Not to mention she hadn't had a decent orgasm since she was eighteen while Noah always made sure to get his in the end. The woes of women and obsolete orgasms, right? Jill could hardly believe that this was her life at 26 years old.

Boy had she fucked up by not listening to all the warnings she'd been fed in the past.

"Jilly?" Jill jumped, startled by the gentle touch on her elbow. When she looked up Ambrose was wearing a faded black shirt and his hooded eyes had a hint of concern. "You good?"

She nodded, tightening her grip on the clothes. "Yup. Just thinking. Sorry."

"No need to apologize." Ambrose led her to the bathroom and flicked on the lights. "You can use my stuff tonight and tomorrow you can move things around to fit your shit."

Jill picked up the black bottle, wet from Ambrose's shower. She could smell the strong eucalyptus aroma without even opening it. "Ah, high school," she said, teasing smile and all.