He'd gone beyond his player ways for her.
She'd grown beyond her traumatic past for him.
Together, their love was beyond.
Until one fatal accident.
__________
When she loses the love of her life in a car crash, Althea has nothing left in California...
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*ALTHEA'S POV*
October 15, 2023.
I couldn't believe my eyes, and I wasn't the only one in the colorful game room, judging by Oliver's wide gaze and the kids who were staring in awe. Their eyes wouldn't have shone more if Spiderman had been there.
It was better; it was Mr. Robot, in a navy blue tee-shirt and jeans, freshly shaven, and with his messy strands somewhat arranged, or at least, they had been until he finished typing and ran his hand through his hair.
"With my left hand?"
"Yes, it'll be a PT exercise at the same time." I slid the white sheet of paper on the table in front of Asher, making this scene even more improbable, and yet, it resembled a lot to the sight I'd had every Friday during my senior year of high school. "Gracie does it all the time."
"But I'm right-handed, and I couldn't use it to draw before, so it's impossible now. Besides, if I recall, we had something else planned for the physio."
What had I said yesterday?
I should have known he wouldn't let this go. But I blamed his smoldering jade eyes for messing with my sanity, the same ones that were currently tracing the curves of my chest shamelessly, the thick cotton of my uniform not even stopping them from warming my skin.
Clearly, his eyesight was fully functional, just like 'everything down there'.
Oh no, I quickly shook my head before the images of his bulge could flash through my mind again.
Okay, I would have lied if I'd said I hadn't wondered about that before, especially knowing he hadn't had any relationship in these three years, while he'd always had a pretty high sex drive. However, Google searches were fine. I hadn't expected to get such an explicit answer right in front of my eyes, and from simply holding his hand and teasing him about my boobs.
I couldn't imagine what it would be if he really touched them—when he would touch them because I knew I wouldn't escape it, and he would surely make progress with his movements for this.
Yet for now, I avoided it, including talking about it.
"At least, now it gives you an excuse for your drawing skills," I retorted, making his eyes narrow in challenge—for what? I wasn't sure, but thankfully, Gracie diverted his attention, offering to show him how to use his right hand to guide his left.
