Chapter 5
652 Words
The sound of running water from the shower abruptly stopped—John had finished.
Any moment now, he'd step out, so Sophia hurriedly jotted down Olivia's w******p ID. She barely managed to close the chat window before John appeared.
Emerging in just a pair of shorts, John grabbed his phone in a hurry. His face relaxed when he saw the blank screen. He let out a quiet sigh of relief, the tension in his shoulders easing.
Carrying dishes from the kitchen, Sophia raised her eyebrows at him. "Seriously? Shorts in this weather? And what's with you clutching that phone like it's your lifeline? Something you don't want me to see?"
John forced a laugh, his tone a little too breezy. "It's just work stuff, you know how slammed I've been. And the weather? Not bad at all, I'm not even cold."
The lie barely left his mouth before a shiver betrayed him.
Sophia let out a cold chuckle, said nothing, and headed back to the kitchen. John darted off to find some clothes.
By the time he returned, she was already sitting at the table, eating without waiting for him.
Undeterred, John slipped behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Let's go pick up Mia from school together later, okay?"
The moment his skin brushed hers, an involuntary wave of revulsion washed over her.
Memories of that painting in the studio flooded her mind, turning her stomach. The food she'd just eaten clawed its way up her throat, threatening to spill out. She clenched her jaw tight, willing herself to hold it together.
Oblivious, John leaned in for a kiss. The smell of him—faint cologne mingled with dampness—only made her nausea worse. She shoved his head away in disgust, her hand grazing his neck. That's when she noticed it—a faint mark at the base of his throat.
A love bite.
Her stomach churned.
John froze, caught off guard by her reaction. Slowly, he leaned closer again, his scruffy stubble scraping against her cheek as he clumsily aimed for her lips.
This time, her disgust boiled over. She pushed back with all her strength, her nails clawing at his skin.
"Ow! What the hell?!" John staggered back, gingerly touching his face. His fingers came away streaked with red from the scratches now marring his cheek. "What's with the over-the-top reaction?!"
"Don't touch me," she said, her voice like ice. "I hate being forced."
John blinked, clearly baffled. "Since when? I thought you liked it rough. What's changed all of a sudden?"
Her eyes locked onto his, sharp and unflinching. "I never said that. Who have you been talking to, John?"
He looked away, rubbing his face like it would somehow erase both the scratches and his guilt. "I'm just… stressed, okay? Work's been insane. I must've gotten confused. That's all. And anyway, trying something new isn't a crime, is it?"
"Something new? Or someone new?" Her words sliced through him, each one sharp with suspicion.
That hit a nerve. "What the hell are you implying?!" His voice rose. "There's no one else. Just you. Only you. If you don't like it, fine—I won't do it again. But stop saying crap like that, or I'll really get pissed."
Before she could respond, his phone buzzed loudly, cutting through the tension like a knife. John glanced at the screen and immediately rejected the call. But the phone buzzed again. And again. By the time it rang for the fifth time, his hand was trembling.
When the eleventh call came through, he finally caved, answering it with a quick swipe. "I've got to take this," he muttered, shooting her an apologetic glance before bolting for the bedroom. The door slammed shut behind him.
He didn't know.
He didn't know that the entire time he'd been nervously rejecting those calls, she'd seen the screen light up.
Caller: Olivia.
- Writer
