NovelEnglishChapter 92 "Do we have any wipes at home?" he askedagain. "Or even a towel would work. I just need to wipe myself down." He was holding one of my towels but seemed hesitant to use it on his own clothes.
"We've got sface wipes. They'll do the job if you wet them," I said, pulling out a couple for him.
He looked slightly puzzled at the face wipes, as if he had never seen them before.
I couldn't help but laugh. "Mr. Collins, don't tellyou've never seen these before?" "Well, first time," he admitted with an endearing cluelessness.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtWell, that made sense. He'd never been in a relationship, and without any women around, it was no wonder he was unfamiliar with face wipes, a ty of the last few years.
"These are disposable, usually used for washing faces," I explained, dampening the wipes for him and handing them over.
Ernest started cleaning the dirt and groff his body, and I noticed there was son his back too. Naturally, I grabbed another wipe and started helping him clean it off.
The moment I touched him, I could feel Ernest stiffen slightly, but I pretended not to notice and continued wiping.
Then, I spotted a mole on the back of his neck, and for sreason, it remindedof a dream I had a dream about a boy with a similar mole.
I was momentarily lost in thought until Ernest called my name, snappingback to reality. I realized the wipe in my hand had soaked his shirt through.
"Uh, that should do it," I said, withdrawing my hand.
Looking at the mole on his neck, I couldn't help but ask, "Ernest, have you had that mole since you were little?" He touched it lightly. "Yeah, since I was a kid." My heart skipped a beat. Could the boy in my dream actually be Ernest? It was bizarre. I hadn't known Ernest for very long, so how could I dream of him as a child, let alone have him carryon his back? Dreams are just a figment of the imagination, sure, but this one fall! oddly specific and real, especially since I had no idea Ernest had a mote on his neck until today.
"I'm good now, let's go," Ernest said, turning around and pullingout of my tangled thoughts.
As we headed downstairs, we bumped into Mrs. Thompson from the upstairs apartment. She complimented Ernest, "Such a nice young man. Do cover more often, maybe help us out too." Inside, I was rolling my eyes. Mrs. Thompson definitely didn't hold back when it cto asking for favors.
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏmErnest, however, just smiled and agreed. "Sure." Such a people-pleaser, always ready to help out.
But I doubted he meant it. How could he possibly cback here? Outside, Ernest looked around the neighborhood. "This place might be old, but it's got a nice vibe."
"It used to be better. Now it's mostly renters, not what it what it used to be, m replied nonchalantly.
He hummed in agreement, and as we got into the car, he suddenly asked, "How much is the rent around here?" I turned to look at him. "Why?" He buckled up. "Just checking the market, for when I look for a place." It seemed like an innocent question, but something felt off.
"What's Ms. Hudson treatingto?" Ernest changed the subject before I could dwell on it.
"What do you feel like eating?" I asked as we drove away from the neighborhood.
"I'm easy. I'll have whatever you're having," he said, always so accommodating.
Thinking of how he had helpedout so much today, I decided to treat him to something special. But ju just as we entered the restaurant, spotted someone I wished I hadn't seen. X And, of course, that person sawtoo. After a moment of surprise, they started walking my way.
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