And Then It Rained (Sequel to Rain Again; Stand Alone Book) (Completed)

Chapter Seventeen: The Neighbor and a Disaster in the Kitchen

Rhythmic taps of water dropping slowly stirred Victoria out of sleep.

She moved her hands and legs to stretch them, but then she stilled midway.

She was on a bed, she realized. A soft and cozy one. And the scent of a male surrounded her, almost similar to the one she just recalled getting acquainted with at some point during sleep.

As she blinked against the semi-darkness and frantically looked around, it finally registered in her mind that she was in Victor's bedroom, tucked in comfortably inside his covers.

What the hell!

For some weird reason, she could not remember when she had gone to bed or fallen asleep.

She only recalled sitting inside Victor's car. Possibly, she nodded off on the way to his apartment. Yes, that must be the case.

Someone had to carry her to this bed for her to be here. Or she had probably acquired amnesia because of falling last night.

Sighing, she ran her fingers into the delicate knots that had formed in her hair.

The noise of tap water was amplified by the quiet of the night.

Soft, bare feet touched the wooden floor as Victoria slowly got down from the bed and meandered out of the bedroom. Silence reigned again after she tightened the tap handle on the bathroom sink.

There was one thing she felt curious about suddenly. If she was sleeping on the bed alone, then where was Victor? She wondered if he was not at home like on their wedding night. Or if he was, there was only one surface other than the bed that could be used for sleeping, no matter how uncomfortable it was—the living room sofa.

And indeed, when Victoria quietly padded into the living room, she found Victor's sleeping form lying flat on the sofa. He was a looker with a handsome, kind face and sinewy limbs spread around in abandon. While one of his hands covered his eyes, his other arm's knuckles touched the carpet. His feet were in the same condition, with one foot on the sofa and the other on the floor.

Tiptoeing near Victor, she slowly arranged his limbs on the sofa—which were heavier than they looked—must be the weight of those muscles.

His fair skin, the splatter of hair on his arm, oval fingernails—she took in the details without reason. Hesitating for a second, she reached up to softly move his messed up hair that covered his forehead partly. For some unknown reason, she was drawn to that particular action.

She watched him for a few minutes more.

She watched him in a manner she hadn't in the past—when they were in school, and he appeared everywhere she went when she returned to Asthel, and he avoided her like the plague.

And the soft feeling of his hair underneath her fingertips held her stuck there. She knelt on the carpet next to him. He let out a long breath, stirring a little. The warmth of it collided and soaked into the inside of her wrist.

Eyes wide, she backed off, fearing him waking up and catching her positioned next to his sleeping form like a looney. She tiptoed back to the bedroom and lay on the bed, huffing.

The next day, she woke up just fifteen minutes before her work hours. She freshened up jet quickly and wore a fresh pair of jeans and a purple shirt.

Victor had left before she woke up.

While walking past the dining table, she halted on her steps. There were omelets, sausages, french bread, and some other breakfast dishes on the table with glass lids covering them.

Victor!

The food looked delectable. And instinctively, she bent down to smell them. Her stomach churned at the heavenly scent, and she couldn't help but stuff her mouth with as much as she could eat in the little time she got. The food tasted as excellent as it looked and smelt.