Chapter 680
Stunned for a moment, Jeff quickly steered the car to the side of the road, flicking on the interior light.
The instant the car came to a halt, Sloane flung open the door and bolted out. Jeff then noticed Fernanda’s clothes were stained with the unmistakable mark of vomit.
Silence settled over him as he struggled to find the right words.
Fernanda remained composed, her voice steady as she addressed Jeff and said, “Could you hand me a bottle of water?”
Without waiting for a response, she gracefully slid out of the car. Jeff quickly retrieved a bottle of water and some tissues from the trunk, passing them to Fernanda.
She had already removed her outer shirt, revealing a form-fitting camisole that hugged her figure in all the right ways.
Her slender frame, with its delicate limbs and the sharp outline of her collarbone, drew attention.
A few stray locks of her long hair cascaded over her chest, flowing in gentle waves that traced the curves of her body. Below the cascade of hair, her impossibly narrow waist was highlighted, the soft glow of her skin almost ethereal in the fading light.
Briefly, Jeff glanced at her as he handed over the items, but the sight made him quickly avert his gaze.
Rummaging through the trunk, he grabbed a spare jacket and offered it to Fernanda, his cheeks tinged with a subtle flush. “Would you like to wear this for now?”
Without hesitation, Fernanda took the jacket and slipped it on. The fabric, faintly infused with the scent of lavender detergent, was surprisingly comforting.
Jeff’s jacket was a bit oversized on her, but she casually rolled up the sleeves and continued dabbing at the stains on her shirt with tissues.
“This shirt’s beyond repair,” Jeff admitted, his face flushing with a hint of embarrassment. “I’ll get Sloane to buy you a new one.”
The awkwardness hung in the air, and Jeff couldn’t help but feel it. After Sloane had thrown up, she had barely made it back to the car, already slipping in and out of consciousness.
Regret gnawed at Jeff. He wished he hadn’t insisted on offering Fernanda a ride. No one wanted to get covered in someone else’s vomit, no matter how close they were.
With a gentle smile, Fernanda reassured him, “It’s fine. You don’t need to replace it. This shirt isn’t expensive, but it’s comfy. That’s why I haven’t thrown it away.”
For Fernanda, comfort always took priority over appearance. She cared little about trends; if an item felt good, it stayed.
Wendy, ever the tease, would often joke that Fernanda could make any outfit look good because of her stunning appearance.
As Fernanda focused on cleaning the shirt, the glow from a nearby streetlamp bathed her in a gentle, calming light, creating an unexpectedly tranquil moment.
Jeff offered help multiple times, but each time, Fernanda politely turned him down.
After a final inspection, Fernanda nodded, satisfied. “All done,” she said, the stains now gone, though a few damp patches remained.
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