She involuntarily sighed as he moved away from her, feeling a slight tinge of relief despite how she had been enjoying the affectionate contact. Rachel needed some time to herself to process all of this. Right now, with him still in the room and how unpredictably affectionate he was being proved to be more distracting than she needed. So she was appreciative of the short break from him that his shower would give.
The comment (and any possible implications) he made about getting out of his clothing slipped past her; the human merely nodded, smiling warily. "I'm gonna go make some tea," she stood, adjusting her wrinkled clothing before leaving her room after the vampire. It had become a habit of hers to inform the vampire whenever she was going to be using the stove after that time she had melted the teapot. Since then, she had only really made tea whenever he was awake--not because he had asked her to, but because she didn't want to make him worry about it when he was supposed to be relaxing.
She didn't want to ruin the one time of the day that he could do that.
If he even did relax when he slept, anyway.
Her legs felt heavy and unsteady as she moved down the stairs and into the kitchen. Being away from her room and out of his presence felt like some kind of fog had lifted from her mind, leaving her in a state of awkward clarity.
Yes, everything about this was quite awkward.
The human didn't even know where to begin processing all of this, never mind trying to figure out what it all could mean for the two of them. She was still amazed that he had allowed himself to do that again, that he admitted feelings, that he even had any kind of feelings to begin with. And, fuck, she was only just beginning to come to terms with how she felt about all of this. Thinking about everything all at once surly wasn't helpful in anyway--unless she was trying to get overwhelmed.
Did she enjoy kissing him? Of course. It was exciting.
Did she have feelings for him? Yes, but nothing so extreme. No, she didn't love him, how could she? There was so little that she knew about him, that he had only begun to let her see tonight.
She wanted to know him better.
The sound of water filling the metal tea kettle pulled her away from the swimming-in-deep-water feeling momentarily--enough for her to concentrate on turning the stove on. From the sparse cabinet she selected a plain white mug and a bag of mint-green tea. Keeping the mug in her hands, she leaned over the counter. Keeping watch over the kettle from the corner of her eye, Rachel absently swirled the dry tea back around inside the cup.
What did she want this to mean? What did he want this to mean?
