His disheveled appearance, so different from his usual meticulous and austere style, made Melanie's mind race.
Combined with his flustered expression, she asked in surprise, "Did I… get drunk and do something to you?"
Preston was speechless.
Seeing Melanie rub her forehead, likely from a hangover headache, he said softly, "Let me go make you some hangover cure."
"Okay, thank you!"
Melanie watched as Preston turned and left her bedroom, his retreating figure looking for all the world like he was fleeing in haste.
Preston returned with something for her hangover, but that wasn't important.
What Melanie focused on was the fact that Preston had re-buttoned his shirt and retied his tie.
Melanie didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
Didn't this look even more like he was covering something up afterward?
The reason Melanie suspected she was the one who had crossed a line was that her own clothes were perfectly intact, while Preston looked like he had been taken advantage of—and in a very provocative way.
How could she not let her imagination run wild?
"Preston, are you sure I didn't do anything to you?"
"No."
"Then did you do anything to me?"
The hand holding out the soup trembled slightly. Preston's eyes met Melanie's.
Her large, alcohol-hazy eyes seemed to speak, showing no signs of probing or panic. Instead, Preston detected a hint of curiosity and even… anticipation.
"I just tidied your hair. You were sweating."
Is that all?
Melanie couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment.
It seemed Preston really wasn't interested in her at all.
"You've been a great help tonight, thank you."
After thanking him, Melanie took the soup and drank it all in one go.
After finishing the soup, she noticed Preston hadn't left yet.
Was he waiting to take the empty bowl for her?
Just as she was thinking this, Preston reached out his hand toward her.
She naturally passed him the empty bowl.
Preston took it.

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