ELIANA
Jackson is hesitant to respond to my suggestion. However, I don't wait for his response as I walk into his big spacious room. The room is clean, grey painting on the wall and it smells more like him, his strong cologne that is almost suffocating. I ignore everything and walk to him before the mirror.
“Hand me the towel,” I say in a soft voice. I don't want to come across as rude since it's my fault he has a busted lip.
I reach for the wet face towel but he pulls back his hand, “I can manage,” He says, being stubborn.
“Can you just stop being stubborn for a moment and let me help you? Of course I know you can do it. I’m only helping because you got it because of me.” I scold and he raises an eyebrow at me.
I reach for the towel again but he doesn't pull away his hand this time.
