SEXY SCANDAL

EIGHT

I smiled, I couldn’t argue with that. I walked alongside him, he looked down at me, “So what have you been up to lately? Didn’t think you’d still be at work this late” he said. “We had a hell of customers today, besides, I didn’t think you’d come looking for me,” I replied.

“So,” he said lightly, “You survive the dinner rush?” I let out a small laugh, the tension from earlier slowly melting off my shoulders. “Barely. Some guy sent back his steak four times because it was ‘too red’ and then asked if we could ‘just microwave it.’” I say the last part like I was mimicking the man.

Josh winced. “Ooh… Culinary war crimes.” I chuckled, “I wanted to throw the steak at his face and walk out. Christine could barely hold it in” he chuckled, “You should’ve. I’d have backed you up.”

We reached the sidewalk, the streetlamp casting golden halos around our heads. I glanced at him. “What about you? How’s life at Golden Oaks?” he scoffed, “Boring as f**k, I swear I aged ten years tonight,” he muttered. “Might retire and start a pottery business in the woods”

I nudged him with my elbow. “You’d get bored in two days” he chuckled, “True. I’d come crawling back with clay in my hair, begging for shopping chaos again.” We shared a laugh, the city noise hummed softly around us, but it felt far away like this little walk was its own world.

“I saw your sketchbook the other day,” I said. “You actually finishing something?” Josh puts his time into drawing at least when he’s bored. Unfinished drawings to be specific. I looked up at him.

He groaned. “Don’t jinx it. I got halfway through a character design before I decided she looked like a haunted teapot and gave up “I laughed so hard that I had to stop walking. “A haunted teapot?” “She had these wide eyes and this stiff dress. I don’t know. It spiraled.”

“Well, now I have to see it”. “Good luck finding it at the bottom of my trashcan.” I smiled, the warmth in my chest pushing away the chill of the night

“Thanks for walking with me,” I said after a moment. Josh looked over, smile softer now. “Always. You’d do the same for me” I smiled too, “Yeah. Maybe without the fake stalking next time, though?”

He winced playfully. “Noted. No more dramatic entrances.”

I reached under the sink to check if it was properly fixed. My fingers brushed along the cool metal of the pipe, searching for any trace of moisture. Dry. I exhaled slowly, almost disappointed. Josh had fixed the leakage before he left earlier this evening, all confident smiles and rolled-up sleeves.

Not that I couldn’t do it myself. I’d handled worse but he practically wrestled the wrench out of my hand, saying something about ‘letting the plumber in him shine’. As if he’d suddenly earned a certificate just by watching one DIY video. Still, I let him.

It was one of those moments, the kind that didn’t ask for anything more than presence. He had crouched awkwardly under the sink, grumbling about poor pipe design and making dramatic faces at the flashlight I held like a surgical assistant. I think he liked doing things for me, even the simple stuffs.

Now the apartment felt silent. I closed the cabinet, wiped my hands on a towel, and glanced around the small kitchen. The dishes were done. The kettle sat idle. A folded napkin with his messy handwriting on it was tucked near the fruit bowl.

“No leaks. You’re welcome. I accept payment in coffee and praise.” I rolled my eyes and smiled before tucking it into the drawer.

I thought for a while. Should I have told Josh about my encounter with Ellis? I sat quietly, lost in thought. The question lingered longer than I wanted it to. It wasn’t just a matter of honesty, I was scared he’d disapprove. But what if he didn’t?

Or maybe I was afraid of how much the encounter with Ellis had affected me, more than I wanted to admit, even to myself. But I had to stay silent. At least for the time being. At least till I figure out what to say to him.

I had ordered a takeout earlier, there went another AU$ 13.95 drained from my already dwindling account. The number lingered in my mind longer than the taste of food ever would. With a heavy groan, I collapsed back onto the couch, its cushions sagging like they too had given up.

The fabric, coarse and threadbare from years of use, scratched faintly against my skin. I let my fingers drift over the familiar pattern of stitches I’d sewn time and time again, patches over old tears, a futile attempt to hold things together. Each thread was a reminder of a moment I didn’t have the means to replace what was broken, only to mend it temporarily. Just like everything else in my life.

Would things be different if I agreed to marry him? Would my life change for the better? A part of me whispered yes, desperate for hope, for any glimmer of escape from the weight of everything I carried. Even if it wouldn’t last forever.

At least I’d have the chance to uncover the truth, finally piece together the mystery of who the serial killer X really was. That was his reason too. He probably also wanted to avenge his sister’s death. He wanted justice… I shut my eyes. Would things really change if I said yes? If I agreed, not out of love, not yet, but something far complicated.

I didn’t know why the thought stirred something oddly warm in my chest. Maybe I could add some color in my life after all. And God help me, I was already seeing things in his perspective. I hated it. I feared it. But a dangerous part of me… was drawn to it. It terrified me… and thrilled me all at once, in the most unsettling way.

I clung to it, desperate to believe, that maybe, just maybe, things could get better. I imagined a future where the weight on my shoulders weren’t so crushing, where I could breathe without the constant ache of worry gnawing at my insides.