Neither one of us utters a word after that. I slip into my clean shirt and pull down my stained pants to get changed into the black slacks lying on the sink.
I shoot Jason a look of warning, because I know damn well what kind of dirty thoughts dance in his mind whenever I get undressed. I’m not stupid. I may ignore his relentless stares and his fucked up behavior, but it doesn’t mean I don’t notice.
“But seriously, what the hell were you thinking? Having sex in a public bathroom? That’s unlike the fancy Jason I know. Besides, you know I have a meeting in a few minutes,” I complain, pulling at my collar. “You always do whatever you want. Next time you do shit like this again, I’ll actually punch you.”
He crosses his arms, leaning against the wall. “Can you blame me when you look exquisite, and you haven’t been free in ages?”
No matter what I say, in his mind, it sounds like flirting. I can’t believe I fell in love with such a nutjob. But it’s over now. It has been for a while, and he’s the only one still hoping I’ll come crawling back if he pushes hard enough.
My feelings for him faded from love to lust over the years. Not even lust–I suppose it’s about familiarity now. I know him, and he knows me. The ugly, patched-up bits of me haven’t made him look away, and I guess I’m grateful for it. He might still be my only family, but that doesn’t mean I want to forgive his behavior over and over again.
Besides, he doesn’t make me feel loved the way he used to.
“You’re unbelievable. If you’re so pent up, go find some whore to fuck. It’s not like you need me specifically.”
His jaw ticks, and I know I hit a nerve. “Unlike you, I don’t fuck whoever gives me attention.”
Jason told me during our fight three weeks ago that I had changed. The only aspect of me that has changed is that I’ve become a total slut–not that I’m proud of it.
He, on the contrary, hasn’t changed. He’s still the same, and it’s unbearable. While I hardened to bear my pain, he sharpened to cut deeper. We’re still opposite sides of the same coin–trapped in time, longing for a way back to our past, yet unable to escape our fates.
I glare at him. “Watch your mouth. Unless you want to see me fuck your dear colleague, Maxwell. I remember him eating me up with his eyes.”
“Don’t you fucking dare.” He takes a step forward and pins me against the wall. “You’remine.”
“In your dreams. Now get off, or I’m going through with my threat.”
I would never fuck his colleague. I’m not that petty, but he doesn’t need to know that.
He lifts his arms up in defeat. “Fine. Calm down. I’ll drive you home, so don’t leave on your own.”
“No need.” I adjust my collar before turning around to face my reflection in the mirror. “Dixon will drop me off at my hotel.”
He grits his teeth but doesn’t object. Instead, he unlocks the door and shoots me a defiant look before he leaves. I pack the stained clothes into my bag and suck in a shaky breath beforestepping out of the bathroom. I’m already exhausted, and the day has barely begun.
Dixon catches me at the door, completely stressed out. “We’re going to be late! Goddamn it, Aoi!” he yells, sounding like an escaped mental asylum patient.
“My bad, I was in the bathroom.”
He halts in the middle of the hallway and frantically waves his arms in outrage. “For twenty fucking minutes?! What were you doing in there? Taking a massive shit?” Dixon drags me to the elevator and squeezes us inside among other busy employees. “It doesn’t take that long to get changed.”
“Yeah, yeah. Stop nagging me.”
After we arrive in the conference room, where some of my colleagues wait patiently and some not so patiently for my arrival, I turn to my boss. “Thank you for your patience. I had a small coffee incident.”
Mr. Williams gestures for me to sit next to him. If I could sit my ass anywhere else instead, I gladly would.
“Don’t you worry, son,” he says, squeezing my shoulder firmly. “We wouldn’t have started without you.”
The spot where his hand rests burns under my clothes. I want to slap his paw off me, but I don’t want to be rude. He might take offense, and I don’t need the others to scold me for being disrespectful. Some of them already think that my success is only due to favoritism. I wouldn’t put it past them to believe I slept my way to the top.
“Thank you all for attending this meeting. As you all already know, I have a very important project to announce,” I say, trying tosuppress my nerves. “I started writing a new book, but this one is different. Not only is this an autobiography, but I’m publishing it under my real name.”
Shocked gasps and murmurs erupt in the room, and Mr. Williams clears his throat, making the others quiet down.
I offer him a courteous smile and continue, “I have long thought about this, and I’ve decided to reveal my identity to my readers.” I smile, ignoring my thundering heartbeat. “I want the world to know that every novel published under the name ‘Devon Reid’ was actually written by me–Aoi Holden.”
The murmurs of disagreement resume, and this time even Mr. Williams scratches his chin, deep in thought. Then a smile tugs at his lips, and his sudden table-smack makes half the room startle.
