"anoesis"

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(noun) Psychology. A rare word, anoesis is characterised as a state of blind emotion filled with extreme sensation without any cognitive awareness. Your senses, perception and feelings are extremely elevated and devoid of intellectual comprehension.

etymology: Ancient Greek: anoēsis = "lack of understanding"

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When Zach stops in his tracks and his eyes widen, I realise what I actually said. "Oh, shit." I place my hand over my mouth, my own eyes widening, matching his own, but from different reasons. "I really didn't mean it like that," I mumble with my hand over my mouth.

"How did you mean it, then?" Zach asks nonchalantly, pretending he doesn't know what I'm talking about.

It doesn't help that he still didn't put a shirt on and he's distracting me with all his muscles. I wonder if he's doing that on purpose since I'm so cold I have to wear two shirts and he's parading around without even one.

I love how his hair is dishevelled, giving off the messy vibe, even though he looks attractive as hell. If I try to go back any further, I'll fall right out of the window. "I just wanted to see the room. You know, as a place in a flat, just like kitchen and bathroom ... is the view also as magnificent as here?" I babble out like an idiot.

Zach chuckles comfortably, not at all being even close to a nervous mess I was. "Come, Analeigh," he orders me. "Let's feed your curiosity." He sends me a wink and I'm thankful that the glass is strong enough to hold me so I don't fall out.

When he starts walking away, I remember he told me to follow him. And I do, taking small steps after his long ones. Zach leads me down the hall, way back to the door that's opened ajar. He doesn't hesitate opening it fully, revealing the inside.

Well, I'll be damned. This is amazing. Amazingly beautiful. And big. The first thing my eyes focus on is a bed that's still unmade. A bed that he slept it just a few hours ago, his body laying between those sheets -

My cheeks flame and I rather focus my gaze on the window that's right in front of me. And it's enormous. It's not from floor to ceiling, but it's a panorama style, giving the live painting of beautiful New York's skyscrapers outside.

"I want to move in here," I murmur mindlessly while keeping my eyes trained on the window as I walk towards it, absently placing my hand on the window frame.

"I would have nothing against it."

I jump up a bit from the nearness of Zach's low voice. I'm afraid to turn my head and look at him because I know he's standing awfully close to me. I can feel him.

I also feel the embarrassment from saying that. Maybe I should stop talking whenever I'm in his presence.

"By the way, Ana, would you like to come to the game next Saturday?" Zach asks me, suddenly serious.

I turn around with a surprised smile. "Are you playing?"

His eyebrow slightly arches. "Of course I am," he states proudly.

I lift my shoulder in a shrug then. "Sure. I'd love to." Watch Zach on the ice is something magnificent and a sight for a sore eyes. His moves are so precise and graceful that I'm jealous of it sometimes. He looks even more elegant than me sometimes!

Zach looks at me for a few seconds before he heads to his walk-in closet suddenly. I watch him with interest when he disappears, enjoying the view he offers me. Is there anything that is not perfect on this man? His sharp mind, his dirty sense of humour, that charming smile create nothing less than a perfection.

Zach comes out of the closet with a jersey hanging from his hands and he extends his arm, giving it to me.

I look at it in confusion, but when I see what it actually is, my expression turns amused. And I blush. "Your jersey?" I ask him with a stupid grin. Crawford is written behind with bold, black letter above the number 7. "I wonder how many girls I'll see wearing the same one tomorrow," I add in a thought. I immediately regret saying that out loud. I sound like I'm jealous. Which I'm not. 

"None," Zach replies naturally. "Well, at least none will have the original one," he tells me. 

I blink at him a few times in disbelief. "How many girls wore it before me?" I can't help being nosy. But then I think to myself, what the hell am I actually doing? It's none of my business. "Wait. Actually, don't tell me that. It's not important. I'll wear it." In fact, I'm never returning it to him. It's mine now. 

Zach puts his hands on mine when I want to turn around. "Analeigh, you'll be the first one wearing it. It's brand new."

I scoff. "You're shitting me."

Zach throws his head back and laughs. "I assure you, I am not. I never had any reason to give any girl my shirt before."

My eyes narrow suspiciously. "But you have a reason now?" I ask with disbelief. 

Zach only gives me a secretive smile that I don't even want to question what it means. When I grab to take the jersey from his hands, my hands accidentally touch his and I quickly jerk them away as if I were electroshocked.

Zach looks at me from under his eyelashes, his mouth parting. "Your hands are really cold," he notices.

"Yeah, they're always cold," I say with a slightly raspy voice. 

"Are you cold?" 

"I'm always cold," I reply with a shy smile. 

Zach surprises me when he wraps his arm around my frame, pulling me into his body. His delicious smell hits me and, holy shit, I'm touching his muscles! My cheeks instantly get warmer when my eyes dart to the right and I'm face to face with his chest. Well, hello there!

"Let's get you warmer then," Zach murmurs. 

Yes, please! When he starts pushing me out of his bedroom, still holding me, I want to protest that I'm fine just as I am and we don't have to go anywhere to 'warm me'. It's kind of funny how I'm cold with two shirts I'm wearing, yet Zach's skin is so hot and he's not wearing any shirt. 

I can't help but wonder for the second time if he did this on purpose because it's a cold morning and, yes, his flat is warm, but I don't think it's warm enough to be walking around shirtless. Zach leads me to the couch and I sit down obediently, much to Zach's pleasure. He goes to work to fire up the fireplace and I have the best view of his back muscles.

Even though the TV is on with the news, I rather focus on Zach's muscles. When he turns around, he catches me watching him, and I quickly - but not quick enough - cast my eyes upwards, trying to look interested in the news that is playing on the TV. 

When Zach stands up at his full height, I can't pretend anymore and I have to look. "Aren't you cold?" I blurt out, not knowing how to ask him to put on a shirt without sounding weird. 

"Ah, sweetheart, with you looking at me like that, it makes me hot all over." 

He walks out of the living room with an amused grin on his face, leaving me to swim in embarrassment. Of course he caught you looking. He's not blind. 

Zach appears seconds later with a mug in his hand. I can't look at his face, so I pretend to watch the news. He places the mug in front of me and I see it's mine, still filled with coffee that I left in the kitchen before. 

He turns to walk away again. "Where are you going?" 

Zach looks over his shoulder. "To prepare breakfast for us."

"Can I come with you?" I try to stand up, but his next words completely stop me. 

"Then we won't eat anything today. You're too distracting, babe." He sends a wink, before continuing his walk to the kitchen. He offers me a nice view, at least. He leaves me with a stunned silence in the room, except for the interviewer talking, but the voice is muffled to my ears. 

I drink my coffee and turn my focus to the TV. I have no idea when was the last time that I watched the TV. I almost fall asleep on the comfortable couch, but Zach puts his head out of the kitchen and calls out my name, telling me that the food is ready. 

I reluctantly stand up, almost unhappy that I have to leave the comfortable couch, but I think that Zach's company is worth doing it. I hope he won't make me blush too much again because I don't think I can take much more embarrassment today. 

Zach prepared us bacon and eggs - the typical American breakfast, I'd say. I notice two glasses of orange juice and a big bowl of fruit on the table. But as for Zach ... he's still shirtless. I don't think I'll be able to eat if he's going to sit in front of me in all his shirtless glory. 

"Are you really going to walk around without a shirt all day?" I mumble, staring at his ripped stomach and broad shoulders. 

I see Zach purposefully flexes his muscles, pushing his hands into the pockets of his pants, offering me an amazing view. "Does it bother you?"

No, it doesn't bother me. It just makes me unable to function properly. "It's your home," I shrug it off, clearing my throat and sitting down, staring down at the table. 

I hear Zach's chuckle when he walks out of the kitchen, leaving me sitting there in confusion. I'm happy to see him returning just a few minutes later, but I'm unhappy about the fact that he put a shirt on. 

"Better now?" Zach asks mischievously. 

No, it's not better! "Like I said, Zach, it's your flat."

Zach sits on the chair and looks at me with interest just as I take a bite of the food in my mouth. "So, if I decided to walk around my flat completely naked, you wouldn't say anything because it's my home, right?" 

The food sticks in my throat and I start coughing. I quickly take a sip of the orange juice, my eyes all watery from almost choking on the food. 

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Zach comments proudly. 

I shake my head to myself. "You're really mean," I state childishly. 

Zach cocks his head to the side. "For putting my shirt back on?" I glare at him and he gives me a charming smile. "How's the food?" 

"Delicious," I smile over the fork I just put into my mouth. I know it's not polite to talk with a full mouth, but I can't help it. I'm really hungry and the food is really nice. I don't eat this food at home. "I really need to go home after breakfast, though."

Zach falls serious. "Why?" 

Oh, for God's sake. We literally had this conversation before. "I can't stay here all day! Besides, I'm sure you have things to do. And I have to go to the ice hall later." 

Zach shrugs, cutting a piece of bacon. "We can go together."

"I don't have my skates here."

He looks at me from under his lashes. "We'll stop at your house so you'll grab them. No big deal." 

I gape at him. Does he seriously have an answer for everything? "I also want to sleep a bit before going. I'm tired."

"You can sleep here. Any other problem you have? I'm happy to solve it for you." 

I purse my lips and stare at his stubborn face, knowing he's not going to drop it. "Fine," I cave in. "I really need to shower, though," I mutter.

"No problem. We can do that together, too."

I loudly put the fork down on the table, gaping at him. Zach only sends me a wink and continues eating. This man! 

I did take a shower, but alone. And I did fall asleep. I don't even know when and how, but I wake up on the couch and ... Zach is lying behind me, hugging me. 

I'm confused. I lay there completely still, looking at our surroundings. The TV is still on, although with lower volume. And outside it's a bright day. Zach is peacefully sleeping behind me if I judge by his steady breathing. Oh, my God, I've slept with Zach Crawford.

Oh, my God. How did this happen? We were watching a movie, both of us sitting on the couch and then ... nothing. I don't remember anything more. 

I slowly turn my head around to look at Zach's face, doing it without any sudden movements so he doesn't wake up. Dear God, he looks angelic in his sleep. He looks so peaceful that I want to extend my hand and touch his face and push the locks of his hair that fell forward back. 

But I can't move since his arm is wrapped around my body really tightly. And I terribly need to use the bathroom. I give him one last look before I bite my lip and try to get away from his grasp. I feel him move behind me and I freeze, but he doesn't say anything. So I quickly lift his arm and step on the floor, almost running towards the bathroom. I'm still wearing his clothes, but now I smell like him. That's actually not such a bad thing at all.

When I come back, Zach is sitting on the couch, going through his hair with his hands. I slow down my pace. "Hi," I greet him unsurely, awkwardly, standing in the middle of his living room now, tugging at his shirt I'm wearing. 

Zach looks at me. "Hello," he says back lowly, hoarsely.  

I get chills all over my body at how deep his voice sounds. "I really want to go to the ice hall now," I mumble pathetically, anything to avoid the elephant in the room.

Zach stares at me, clearly seeing through me, but he doesn't say anything. He just stands up. "Alright, let me grab my skates."

I keep Zach's shirts on. They're keeping me warm and they're baggy enough for me to love them. I look like I'm homeless, but I don't even care. I'm comfortable and that's what's important.

I get weird looks when Zach steps out of the elevator with me. I don't look anyone in the eyes when Zach pushes me forward so we walk out of the flat complex. And then the real chaos starts when there are flashes and shouting suddenly everywhere around me.

The paparazzi. 

I'm experiencing some shoulder/neck pain and it's the worst thing ever. Ugh. 

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