Worried from Chelsea's call, Andrew rushed home. He climbed up the stairs and crashed on the couch, putting his legs on the table.
'Are you dying? What happened to you?' a familiar voice along with the sound of loud footsteps hitting the floor came.
Andrew moved his legs from the table, rattled by her presence, replying, 'Basketball practice.'
Chelsea stood silently in front of him with her hands crossed over her chest. For the first time in weeks, Chelsea looked normal. She wore a blue t-shirt and jeans. She looked nice for a change with her neatly combed hair and some light makeup made her eyes look less puffy.
Getting up, Andrew rubbed his eyes and looked at Chelsea in amazement. 'Are you alright?'
'What? All my night clothes are dirty.' Chelsea flicked her hair and sat on the edge
