“I didn’t ask you for fashion advice,” I blurted. “What would you know about it anyway? Maybe cat-patterned jim-jams are a new fashion trend and wearing high-heels is part of the protocol? Ever stopped to think about that? Besides, don’t people in America wear stranger things outside than this?”
He laughed, and my eyes jumped to him in time to see his head fall back and his Adam’s apple bobble. He wore a sleek button-up clearly meant to impress, the hem of it tucked into the waistband of his dark jeans. He also still carried the umbrella, and my heart lurched at the idea that it might still be raining.
“That obvious, huh? You don’t need to get defensive, I have indeed witnessed stranger things. I also said it was cute, didn’t I?”
I retorted, “For your information, girls don’t like to be called cute.”
“Hmm, is that so? What do they like being called?” he challenged.
“Stunning. Beautiful. Gorgeous. I don’t know, anything other than cute. Cute is reserved for Hello Kitty, and you know, things that are actually adorable.” The answer left my lips before I could stop to think about the implications. Having him call me stunning? Really, Haylee, really? You couldn’t just swallow it down?
Mr Umbrella gave me another once over but didn’t compliment me. Of course, he didn’t.
“Girls wearing kitten PJs should expect to be called cute at least once,” he insisted instead.
I narrowed my eyes at him, but he only chuckled in return. He wasn’t wrong, I supposed. Hello Kitty and my pyjamas were almost the same thing. I refused to back down, however, and glared at him until he gave in.
“Okay, fine. I won’t call you cute, you have your boyfriend for that.”
I didn’t see as much as felt the sting of his studious gaze on my face, while I tried to maintain a neutral expression. He didn’t deserve to pry into my personal life after our two most mortifying lift rides together. Lift rides that lasted way too long if you’d ask me.
Mr Umbrella hummed as if my face had told him whatever he’d been looking for, despite my strongest efforts to keep it from him. He didn’t say anything else for the rest of the way down, and I kept my own mouth welded shut, too. It would have been easy to forget he was there at all if it wasn’t for the faint scent of masculinity slowly filling the space from his cologne and the tickling of my neck.
He stayed back, letting me exit first when we got to the ground floor. I got a distinct impression that he was checking out my bum, but if he was he didn’t let on as he walked with me to the front door.
Even before I was close enough to see through the glass rectangle in the middle of the door, it became evident that it was indeed still raining. The soft tapping that had been muffled by the buzz of the lift grew louder as we reached the door.
I cursed in a very unladylike, very uncute way as I stopped under the little roof just outside the hallway. Mr Umbrella stopped right next to me, breathing in the scent of rain.
“I assume you don’t have a raincoat hidden up your sleeve?” he asked, taking in my falling face.
I wasn’t even going to joke as I sucked on my lower lip and shook my head. God, I fiercely hated the rain. Getting continuously soaked through was the worst of the worst one could ever experience. And yes, I could have also carried an umbrella like Mr Smartpants over there, but somehow, despite my hate, I kept forgetting to take one with me.
“Can I give you a ride somewhere?” he asked, genuine concern making his voice rougher.
I shook my head again. “No, thanks.”
His arm reached out, breaching the space between us. “Here, let me at least give you my umbrella. We wouldn’t want these clothes to turn transparent, too, now would we?”
I turned beet-red at the reminder, barely comprehending the umbrella changing hands, but I was clearly gripping the handle of it now. It was warm under my palm, and I could almost imagine his hand wrapped around it under my own.
“Ah, there it is,” he said smugly, clearly referring to the blush colouring my cheeks. “I’ll be waiting for you to return the umbrella when you’re done with it, Red Cheeks.”
I didn’t have the chance to reject the umbrella when a car pulled up in front of the mansion block and Mr Umbrella, now umbrella-less, stepped into the rain and jogged to the passenger side. I was still standing on the front steps when the car drove off into the night.
