"What?"
"I asked for some sugar." With a tilt of his head, he comes off so innocent.
"W-why mine? I mean, go get from the store or something." She urges to tear out her brain, for she glimpsed a startling scene of the gone by. Her aunt once said: 'If a guy asks for some sugar, it means he wishes a kiss from the girl he's fond of.'
"It has to be yours of course." He smiles, he 'precisely' fair-mindedly needs sugar.
Neva unclear of his intentions squints her eyes.
"Angel it's cold outside, won't you let me in?" Piteous man, rubs his hand—gazing through the chilly atmosphere.
"No, and my name's not angel!" She glares at him. If glares could hole, his head would have been a web, sun beams passing through them.
He adorably looks at her. "Any other could call you Neva, but Angel's only reserved for me." He yet again, earns a piercing glare.
She exhales deeply, needing to sane herself for she wishes not to ablaze her cool.
Her precious peace disrupted by this donkey.
Suddenly the poor guy sneezes, sniffing he rubs his reddish nose with the index finger. Neva's eyes softens, she feels sympathy for the sad thing.
"Come in." Saying Neva walks inside. Her heart a pink fluffy, soft cotton candy.
Rhett beams, closing the door behind—trailing Neva like a puppy.
Neva's home was warm, with longing eyes he peers at her making a beeline to her kitchen. She holds open a cabinet—and a jar of sugar. Then closing the cabinet, she opens another for a container.
"You could've asked other neighbours? Why me?" Neva raises a query.
"They're not you Angel." He sweetly says.
Neva's heart thaws at this.
She looks over her shoulder at a sugary, cheekily smiling Rhett.
He was standing at the kitchen door, leaning his left shoulder at the side jamb, with arms crossed over his chest—burning eyes glued to her frame.
Her heart out of nowhere starts palpitating. He was breath–taking.
Turning around Neva hides her flushed face, she faintly shakes her head to gather herself.
Something's, really wrong with her.
He steps closer towards Neva, tensing her. She abruptly turns around to rebuke him—almost bumping to him.
"Hey, careful there." Rhett says, holding her shoulders. A rosy cheeks Neva glances up at him, shame swirling in her beautiful cocoa orbs.
Neva hurriedly backs away, almost aching Rhett.
"S–sorry." Neva says, blinking up at him.
And he just smiles at her.
She holds out to him his container. "Here."
Rhett looks down at the sugar brimmed jar. "Thank you." He says. "Can I—" he cuts himself off.
Neva arches slightly her brows. "You wanted to say something?"
Rhett shakes his head in refusal. "Nothing." And as he takes the jar from her, his hand brushes lightly with hers.
Neva flinches at the sensation.
Where had he been? His hands were like ice.
Glancing up at his face, now that she had a better look of him, he looked pale, the sick kind of pale.
"See you later Angel." He drowns her thoughts. He didn't really want to leave though. He came here because he missed her. But for now, just a glimpse of Neva would be enough.
So heavy hearted, he peels away from her.
She doesn't really seem to enjoy his presence, anyway.
Neva on the other hand is left with her ponders in the kitchen, contemplating if she should ask, then again he's just a stranger, an annoying one at that.
She won't bother.
.
.
.
Her steps hurried, she rushes to him and just as he's about to twist the door knob open, she seizes the hem of his hooded jacket.
"Wait."
Rhett halts, confused he slowly glances at her over his shoulder. "Hmm?"
She says nothing and just grabs his arms and turns him around to face her.
Placing her palm on his forehead, she checks his temperature.
He was burning! She goes on placing her fingers to check the brisk pulse on his neck.
Mystery man, he's obedient and still, staring at her with stunned, glinting eyes.
And Neva isn't aware, the heart beating abnormally fast inside his chest, if it's the fever,—or she who's the reason.
She spares him no other second—and drags him back to her living room.
"Sit." Back in the parlor she commands.
While he with no query lowers himself on the couch.
"You have fever." She declares, crossing her arms over the chest. "Do I?" He asks, dazed.
"What do you think?!" Neva asks, sarcasm dripping from her tone.
"I think I do," checking his pulse, in a small voice he utters, the realization painting the innocent and pure eyes of his.
Neva sighs at his pitiful and moronic state.
'Dumb like a donkey!'
"Sit here and don't move." She warns with her stern gaze, and walks in her room.
In a moment she comes back with the first aid kit. She hands him a thermometer.
"Put it in your mouth."
He obediently does as she says, placing it under the tongue and closing the mouth.
Some time later, the thermometer beeps. Neva silently seated on the couch asks him to hand it to her.
He does so, and it reads 100.4°F.
"It's not that high, but still not good. I'll bring some water."
She walks inside the kitchen and brings back a glass of warm water.
Neva hands him the glass of water, and grabs some tablets from the first aid kit. Tearing the rapper—she places the medicines on his palm.
His gave travelz from the medicines to her eyes. His heart warmed up at her gestures. At all times, his eyes in awe of her.
He quickly injests the medicines, gulping down all the water.
"Were you not aware of your fever?" She asks, dropping herself on the other end of the couch.
"No," the donkey scratches his head.
"You really are of different breed." She declares, so casually cruel.
"Is it not good?" He foolishly asks. Neva nonchalantly eyes him a tad bit, and shrugs, "Dunno!"
"Thank you Neva." He voices sincerely. Perhaps he was really sick, his heart refuses to slow down the beatings.
"I haven't told you my name have I?"
She keeps her lips zipped. Of course he didn't, but she already knew—as if she'll let him know.
"It's Rhett, and I more genuinely than ever desire to be your lover." His glittery eyes smiles. And the pursuer pursues her still.
"No! You go and take some rest. I'm giving these medicines for free, do take them and don't trouble me anymore!" She retorts back 'a little lot' harshly, failing to spare her words a second thought.
His eyes instantly dims. Rhett's expression falls, heart of his pinched bitterly by Neva's bitter words.
"No need. I've troubled you enough. Thank you. Goodnight Neva." Pitiful Rhett hardly manages to gather his words, and himself together. He rises to his feet—seldom glancing at Neva or the medicines taken out for him on the table.