I can hear him coming, tip-toeing, he think I’m asleep; he doesn't know that I became a perfect actress; I faked my death, so it is not hard to pretend to be sleeping. I hear him opens the wicked chest, I open one eye to make sure he is not looking at me, he is not, now both my eyes are open watching him taking off his t-shirt, exposing his bare-full of cuts chest. I like what I’m seeing; my gorgeous-stranger is standing in my bedroom with nothing but a low-riding ripped jeans. It is enough to make my mouth dry and my body shiver. I saw him before without a T-shirt on, but I wasn’t attracted to him but this time is different, something has changed; my heart skips a beat each time I see him and my ears go red when he says something nice to me.
“Enjoying the show?” he says with a smirk breaking my stream of thoughts. I have just been caught with the misdeed.
“ Wh-what are you doing in my room?” I try to sound angry. “Why are your jeans torn?”
“ I fell” he says “I was cutting some branches for the fire, my hand slipped and I fell from the tree”
As he is speaking, the angry-girl mask falls and I find myself standing in front of him scanning his body to check if there are new injuries, I find myself like a worried mother scared about her little baby from harm.
“Are you ok ?” I ask, he says that he is fine and I don’t believe him so I keep checking and asking. He puts his hands on my shoulders and gives me a look of insurance and says “I’m really fine, thank you for your concern”
I take a deep breath and free myself from his hands and I say “don’t touch me again”
