Chapter 24
1540 Words
I woke up feeling tired. I took a shower, still exhausted—and that’s all because of Johnny. I lost the quality of my sleep thinking about his drama last night.
There’s no weighing scale to help me measure him. No calculator to figure out his attitude. And definitely no dictionary in the world that could explain the twists and turns of that chaotic brain of his.
“But at least he gave me fried chicken,” I muttered, picking up the last piece. I saved it for breakfast since I wasn’t hungry while deep-thinking like a madwoman last night.
I have zero idea what his purpose was for showing up and waiting “three f*****g hours” by my door.
My eyes landed on the bouquet of roses. He keeps giving me those. Does he seriously think that just because his money can buy them, we’re suddenly closer?
A snort left me.
“What are we, Johnny?” I asked the air, as if he could hear me. “We’re far from being f**k buddies, and we’re not even friends to call it friends-with-benefits. It’s somewhere between strangers-with-benefits or colleagues-with-benefits... maybe?”
Wrinkling my nose, I shook my head and cleaned up. Thanks to Johnny, I’ve got something to fill my stomach. I was supposed to buy groceries, but Tamara and Roxy happened.
I almost forgot. Roxy wanted me to drop by and continue the “session.” Well, good luck with him, because even if his eyes turn red, I’m not going back there.
I’m still too young to break my spine. I still need to walk. So no way I’m letting him twist my ankles with those heels. I’m Cassidy North, and I can improvise.
Best believe Tamara wouldn’t be there to watch me sway my hips like a freaking bamboo, or crawl on the floor like a skinwalker.
She paid me to do something ridiculous—but I want to do it my own way.
“Ouch!” I exclaimed, tripping on my own damn feet as I stepped into the mall.
I wore a cute rainbow bell-sleeved blouse and a pink gypsy skirt. My usually overwhelming dress-up was toned down, but people were still looking at me like I’d grown a second head.
What’s wrong with these people?
I was about to enter the grocery store when my eyes landed on a head-turner of a man standing by the entrance of a boutique.
Johnny. In his simple casual clothes, still looking dashing as ever.
He was talking to a woman who was basically rubbing herself all over him.
“Ugh…” I muttered in disgust.
Seriously? In public?
For some reason, he turned his head in my direction, and our eyes met.
I felt a jolt of electricity rush through my body. What kind of effect is this?
Pulling my wits together, I lifted my chin and turned my back on him. Sunday’s supposed to be a day free from sins—but I guess the devil always finds a way to distract the sinner.
I took a cart and headed down the first aisle.
“He’s definitely an eyesore, an asshole, a pest in this world, a freaking dent on my Coke can, and the chip on my nail. Unnecessary. Dramatic. And I. Hate. Him,” I muttered word-for-word every time I picked a snack from the shelf.
"Glad to know I live rent-free in your head. Should I start paying utilities too?"
I yelped in surprise, hearing his voice behind me. The pack of marshmallows flew from my hand and landed straight into my cart.
When I turned, I found Johnny standing there—arms crossed, brows furrowed, lips thinned. He looked at me like I’d stolen one of his balls and fed it to a pig.
“You scared me,” I said, taking a deep breath. I really needed it. I wanted to look away, turn away, and just go away—but I stood there, frozen, like he’d "stupefied" me with his "stick".
“Don’t you have something to say to me?” he asked, arching one of his thick brows. He took a step closer, making me feel two inches tall.
“Thanks for the chicken,” I blurted out. But the satisfaction didn’t even visit his eyes.
“Spell ‘sorry,’” he demanded.
“S-O-R-R-Y. What for?”
He squinted his eyes at me.
What did I do this time?
“Glad you can spell it. That means you can say the word to me,” he said, jaw clenching.
“Why would I?”
He scoffed and looked sideways, giving me a full view of that jawline sharp enough to slice bread.
“If you’re still mad about last night, okay, fine—sorry. But I didn’t ask you to wait three hours, or bring me flowers, or chicken. You know weekends are my me-time. I get to do whatever I want,” I reasoned, lighting a spark of fury in his eyes.
“Besides, I know you’ll get over it soon. You’ve got someone to 'rub' the irritation out of you right over there.” I pointed in the direction I’d seen him earlier with a woman. “So, with all due respect, sir—please get lost. I’m sleep-deprived, I’ve got eyebags, and I have a cart to fill.”
I finally turned to walk away, but before I could even get a meter away, he stopped me in the most unexpected way.
His finger hooked the back of my bra over my blouse and pulled me right back to where I was—smack in front of him.
Aside from the war in my mind and the stupid H&M background music, I could hear the danger creeping up on me.
“Are you walking out on me?”
“Obviously,” I spat.
I swatted his hand off my bra and stepped behind the cart, creating a safe distance.
“Look, Johnny, I don’t get what kind of game you’re playing. If you want someone to…” I looked around and lowered my voice since there were customers nearby, “...do the 'job' for you, I’m sure you can find someone else. End of discussion.”
“Did I say I went to your place just to f**k you?” he replied bluntly, not even flinching at the people he just traumatized with that line.
A staff member glanced at us, pretending not to hear.
I winced and hid behind my hair.
“Is that all I am to you?” he asked, like I’d stabbed his dignity. “Someone greedy to f**k?”
“Well—”
“No. Don’t answer that,” he cut me off, probably sensing I was about to agree. “Why were you with that architect, huh? Where did he take you? A club? I smelled beer on you last night. Did he kiss you? Did you let him touch you like I did?”
Looking at his face, I knew he was about to erupt like an angry volcano.
“It’s either you ran out of condoms and lube, or you’re stressed out from endless work and ready to end the world. Which one is it?”
“Are you f*****g numb, Cass?” he snapped, harshly swatting the cart out of his way—it slammed into the shelf.
A few heads turned. A staff member paused, halfway through stacking cereal boxes. I could feel my face burning.
He grabbed my wrist, pulling me close until our faces were just a breath apart.
“Did you, Cassidy?”
I stared at him, both confused and terrified. “I don’t get why you’re acting like this. What are we, Johnny? As far as I understand—we’re nothing. And whatever happened between us? You just ran out of options. You were looking for someone, and I reminded you of her. Other than that, we’re just a couple of needy people.”
It was the truth—but why did it lowkey hurt?
“I’m just your secretary who does dumb things for you, sir.” I quoted him, pulling my wrist away—but he held on tighter.
“So if he wants to kiss you, you’d let him?” he asked. There was a threat in his voice, but also a hint of defeat. “Would you?”
Why is he doing this? Why is he handing me a pile of unanswered questions?
Either way, I stood my ground and did what I thought was right. After all, I’m getting paid to deliver drama. So fine—I’ll give Tamara drama.
Problem is... why does it feel so real?
“I already did,” I whispered, voice raw and vulnerable.
He chuckled darkly, releasing me at last, though his eyes stayed locked on mine.
“Damn you, Cassidy. Damn you,” he muttered, then kicked a box next to us. Items spilled everywhere, and the staff groaned in defeat.
Johnny walked out.
His shoulders slumped. His steps were heavy.
How many times has he walked out on me?
But this time… this was the only time I actually heard my heart shatter from the inside.
- Writer
