All Fanny could see was that Michel was once again upset with something.

Little does she know that all he wants is to find the nearest wall and bang his head on it over and over because it's so pathetic.


What's wrong with him?

Just five minutes ago, he wanted to leave for a night of pointless sex.

And now?


Now, he turned that prospect down simply because she was here to help him massage his shoulder.

How is that a good alternative to what he had planned?


However, somehow he found it difficult to get up and leave as she was standing there in his room, looking at him expectantly.

Yes, he is pathetic.

Throwing the phone on the bed, Michel turned to look at her as she rose from the couch, still waiting for him to answer.

"I'm going to clean myself up a bit." He said in a gruff voice, running a hand through his messy hair.

He still has the lipstick stain Kaylin left on his neck and he wants to wash it off along with the stench of alcohol and cigarettes before letting her step closer.

Once again, he frowned when he realized that.

Why is it so important to him that she doesn't notice it? Who is he kidding?

She knows who he is, so what is he trying to look like to her?

"I can go back." She replied, even though he said no to her.

He shook his head and began to unbutton his shirt.

"No need. I won't stay long."

Before she could answer, he disappeared into the bathroom, dropping his shirt on the way.

When Michel returned, he was not surprised to find her at the front of the shelf again, looking at the books he kept there.

He wondered what fascinated her as she walked slowly along the shelf, her hair flowing down her waist, swaying back and forth. Her skin is as white as snow.

"You don't have to keep staring at them from afar. Pick a book and read it." His voice startled her when she turned to see him standing there wearing nothing but black sweatpants.

Fanny blushed deeply.

She can't help but notice the toned upper body he has.

She doesn't want to be explicit, but what is it about him that makes her pay attention to every little detail that makes her unable to look away?

This isn't the first time she's seen him topless, however, now that he's standing there, fresh out of the bathroom with his wet hair still dripping, Fanny can't stop staring.

She tried to quickly gather her thoughts, moistening her lips to answer him but her throat really couldn't make a decent sound.

What did he say? That she can read a book?

When Fanny didn't respond immediately, Michel lost his patience and strode across the room toward her, surprising her as he sat on one of the nearby couches.

"That's right. Can we start training then?"

It starts easy enough, Fanny just standing in front of him as she instructs him to extend his arm to the side and then slowly lift it over his head to rotate it 360 degrees.

She made him repeat the movement a few times, watching his face become uncomfortable but not tense enough for her to worry that he was in too much pain.

"Good. Keep breathing through it. Good. Gradually, you're doing it too fast. Yeah, that's better..." Fanny looked at him as he obeyed, following her instructions.

Michel closed his eyes for physical therapy, knowing that if he opened them, she would be standing right in front of him.

And he doesn't want to have to look at her.

It's enough that he can smell her.

"Okay." She gently patted his shoulder.

"You can now lower your arms." She said, let him do so immediately, breathing a sigh of relief.

Despite himself, he suddenly found himself facing her as he sat there, his breathing slightly accelerated from the exercise.

Fanny bit her lip and tried to suppress the blush she could feel on her face, but when his eyes were completely still, she couldn't help but stare back.

Michel's presence was so strong that it made her feel weak and small.

The two continued to look at each other, unblinking as tension vibrated around them. But neither of them can understand what it is or they want to refuse to understand it, refuse to acknowledge it.

Michel suddenly broke eye contact, exhaling in motion as his tense muscles curled in relief.

His entire upper body was covered in sweat, most likely from previous activity, and Fanny's eyes followed his length down, finding him the most confusing man she'd ever meet.

Confusing, strange, and dangerous. Yet it is so beautiful...

She tilted her head to the side, still looking at him so much that Michel could still feel her eyes on him, causing him to turn his head reflexively.

She took a step toward him, cramming into his personal space, instantly making him lean back against the sofa.

"What the hell are you doing?" Michel asked her, eyes wide and tone menacing, causing her to stop her hand in midair as she was about to reach out towards him.

She swallowed, nervously licking her lips.

"We...we're not done yet." She tried to explain, her voice trembling.

"No?"

She shook her head again.

Michel frowned at her, trying to pull himself together.

He doesn't want her to realize that her very presence is spooking him.

But that's exactly what she's doing.

Is there something about this girl that makes him act like this?

Nothing happened, but at the same time, a lot of things were going on in his head.

Turning away, he cleared his throat and sat up straight again, hoping to look unaffected.

"Hurry up," Michel grumbled.

He was startled when he suddenly felt her small but warm hand on his, one on his shoulder as the other touched his arm.

Instinctively, he turned his head and looked at her.

He saw her gulping in anxiety.

But Michel knew that this time it was a different kind of anxiety.

That is stress. Nervous.