Chapter 67: Chapter 67

I started toward the bus stop. Something made me glance back over my shoulder. She was still standing there, in the drizzle, just watching. Same stiff smile plastered on. Didn’t blink. Didn’t move.

I snapped my head forward and picked up the pace.

“Okay, Evan,” I muttered under my breath. “Focus. You got work to do today.”

By the time I reached the bus stop, I was damp and restless. I pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and leaned against the shelter’s cold metal wall. Smoke filled my lungs, burned down my throat, steadied me.

“When does this bus come…” I muttered, taking another drag. The rain drummed on the plastic roof above me. My reflection in the glass looked like a ghost—eyes heavy, hair damp, smoke curling past my face.

Damn… getting a blowjob while I ate… that was fucking awsome. A little humiliating for Tessa, sure. But the pleasure I got was just… ten out of ten.

And then there was Cora. Creepy as hell, but harmless, right? Probably just lonely. Still… women kept flooding into my life like a curse. Mendy, Kayla, Ivy, Tessa, now this girl. Too many of them. Not enough of me.

Finally, headlights cut through the wet street. The bus hissed to a stop. I flicked my cigarette into a puddle and climbed on.

I slid into a seat by the window, resting my head against the cool glass. The bus jerked forward, and my eyes drifted back to the stop.

And there she was. Cora. Standing exactly where I’d left her. Rain dripping off her hood. Her face turned up to the window, still wearing that same unnatural smile. She raised her hand and waved—slow, almost deliberate.

My stomach knotted.

“Jesus on a stick,” I muttered under my breath. “Who even is she… ugh.”

The bus rolled on, carrying me away, but her smile burned in my head like a bad afterimage.

—

I pulled the blanket over myself and lay back on my bed. Calling Mendy. I had to do it sooner or later—apologize. But fuck, I didn’t have the guts. What was I supposed to say? “Hey, Mendy! Sorry for tricking you into thinking the video was fake. Richard really was balls-deep in Kayla. Hope you forgive me.” Yeah. That’d go over well.

I was an idiot for accepting that quest. Ugh. Ivy was going to be pissed at me too. I vouched for Richard, swore he wouldn’t pull the same shit again. Should’ve known better. Of course that fucking idiot would cheat again—it was in his blood.

“Alright,” I muttered, dialing her number. “No backing off now. Come on, Evan. Don’t be a wuss. Man up.”

The phone rang. Twice, three times. On the fifth beep, someone finally picked up. My stomach dropped. Showtime.

“Hey,” I said. “Mend—”

“Evan, right?” a woman’s voice cut in. Not Mendy’s.

“Oh… who are you?”

“Penelope,” she said. “You’re the guy that stared at my tits, right?”

“Unintentionally,” I blurted. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to. Really. I’m sorry.”

“Everyone does,” she said flatly. “That was the whole point of the surgery.”

“Yeah…” I cleared my throat, tried to steer it back. “Where’s Mendy?”

“With her mother. Crying. That bastard Richard is—”

“I need to apologize to her,” I cut in. “Can you give her the phone?”

“One second.”

The line went quiet. Fifteen, twenty seconds of muffled nothing. Then Penelope’s voice came back, sharp.

“She said fuck off. You tricked her. Of course you did. You’re Richard’s friend, after all.”

“Just…” I rubbed my face, shaking my head. “Tell her I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean for things to get this bad.”

“But they did,” Penelope snapped. “Why would a man even make a girl like Mendy sad? No brain. I swear. Men are just a bunch of horny monkeys.”

“Not all,” I said weakly. “Tell her to—”

The call clicked dead.

I exhaled hard, dropped the phone on the bedside table, and sank deeper into the pillow. Pulled the blanket up to my chin. Outside, the rain had slowed to a drizzle. The sun hid behind thick, swirling clouds. A calm day. A little depressing, sure. But calm.

“That could’ve gone worse,” I muttered. “Shit.”

I shut my eyes and let out a long breath. I just wanted this day to end.

—

New day. New me. New adventures.

Wish I could say.

“Uuuugh.”

I was sick as hell. Guess running under the rain because of that stupid quest wasn’t the brightest fucking move. Now I had a fever, nose like a leaky faucet, throat dry as sand. My morning shift? Not happening. What I really hoped was that I’d recover before Anotov’s massage session. She didn’t strike me as the “Oh, you poor thing, reschedule” type. More like, “You’re late? You die.”

Nothing much happened yesterday. After I gave Tessa that promised massage, the fever started hitting hard, so I bailed instead of staying the night. Goodbye, credits spent without sex. Goodbye, EXP. Missed my chance with a beauty like Tessa. Fuuuck. My life was one bad choice after another. Who the hell runs in the rain? Idiot move, Evan.

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A knock rattled my door. I groaned, pressed a tissue to my nose, and dragged myself up. Every step down the corridor felt like the walls were stretching further away, like some fever dream labyrinth.

“Man…” I muttered, dragging my feet.

Finally, I unlocked the door. Standing there was Ivy, both hands balancing a steaming pan. The smell of chicken soup hit me right in the sinuses.

“Ivy,” I croaked. “Hey. You shouldn’t have come.”

“You called me acting like a big baby. Said you were about to die from the flu,” she shot back. “If you weren’t such a drama queen, I wouldn’t have bothered—especially not after what happened with Richard.”

I slumped my shoulders. “Yeah, yeah. I know. I’m sorry. I’m an idiot.”

I shut the door behind us and dropped onto the couch, heavy, like my bones were filled with bricks. Ivy brushed past, headed straight into the kitchen. I leaned my head back, eyes half-closed, listening to the clinks and soft boiling sounds as she poured the soup into a bowl.

Couldn’t help it—I peeked. Her ass moved perfectly with every step, big and round in those tight pants. My fevered brain had no shame. Every shift of her hips made my cock twitch, even with my head pounding.

Ivy came back with the bowl and spoon balanced carefully. She handed it over, then sat down on the armchair across from me.

“Still the same,” she said, eyes wandering around the room. “Even that crooked painting. You said you’d fix it months ago.”

I took a sip of the soup, hot and salty, soothing my throat on the way down. “Yeah. Guess I’m a little lazy.” Another sip, longer. “Mm. So good. My throat’s been killing me.”

“The soup should help,” she said, crossing her legs. The stretch pulled her pants tighter against her crotch, and—fuck. Clear as day. Cameltoe. My cock twitched again under the blanket.

I forced my eyes back to the bowl. Focus. Eat. Don’t be obvious.

“You taking any meds?” she asked.

“Yep,” I muttered between sips.

“Good.” Her tone shifted sharp. “But I’m still gonna scold you for helping Richard. Don’t think you escaped just because you’re sick. You dumbass.”

I rolled my eyes, slumping deeper into the couch. “I told you already. Sheesh. I was wrong. I admit it.”

“Admitting doesn’t fix things,” she said firmly. “But… whatever. I mean, I didn’t know the girl, but still, it’s bad.”

I shrugged, spoon clinking in the bowl. “I know. Trust me, I feel like shit about it.”

For a while, we drifted into small talk—about the rain, about how the bus schedules never made sense, about how she still hated her boss. I chimed in where I could, half-present, but most of my brain was busy imagining what I’d do once I wasn’t drowning in snot and fever.

Kim and Tessa. The thought flashed, vivid and raw. A threesome. Me pounding into them until they begged me to stop, their bodies sweaty and twisted together. My cock twitched again. I shifted in my seat, hiding it with the blanket.

Ivy didn’t notice—or pretended not to. She just leaned back in the armchair, scrolling through her phone like nothing was happening.

The soup was gone before I knew it, the warmth spreading from my stomach into my aching limbs. I set the bowl aside and exhaled. “Thanks. Really. This… helped a lot.”

She glanced up, softening just a little. “Don’t mention it. Just… try not to be such an idiot next time, alright?”

“Yeah,” I said, managing a weak smile. “No promises.”

“I gotta bounce,” Ivy said, pushing herself up from the couch. She brushed her palms over her thighs like she was wiping me off her. “You’ll be okay by yourself?”

“Mm.” I gave a lazy nod, leaning back into the couch. My bones felt like melted lead. “Just need to sleep a bit, I think. Already feel a little better.”

“Good,” she said, though she sounded like she didn’t fully believe it. She glanced at the coffee table, at the half-empty tissue box, then back at me. “The weather’s gonna stay this shit for the next few days. If I were you, I wouldn’t set foot outside until you’re fully recovered.”

She grabbed her bag, walked over to the door, and twisted the handle. The hinges whined when it opened.

And that’s when Jasmine showed up, right there in the corridor, arms hooked around two grocery bags like she was about to host a party for herself. Her hair was a little damp, clinging to her cheeks, and her eyes widened as soon as she saw me slouched on the couch.

“Evan,” Jasmine said. Her voice was soft but it carried over the stale hallway air. “You look bad. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I croaked out, forcing a dry chuckle. It broke into a cough that tore my throat raw. “Ugh… talking hurts like hell.”

Ivy stopped halfway through stepping out. One eyebrow arched, sharp as a knife. She turned back toward me, then slid her gaze to Jasmine, and then back to me again. Her mouth twitched but didn’t form words.

“I see you made friends,” Ivy murmured, her tone low, pointed—like she wanted Jasmine to hear nothing and me to hear everything.

“It’s a small apartment,” I said quickly, throat burning. “Everyone knows each other here.”

“Is that right…” she whispered, and there was enough ice behind it to freeze the soup she made me.

I got up, walked toward her and tried to salvage it, but the words tumbled out weak. “Look… thanks for everything, really. And I’m sorry about Mendy. And… uh, that you had to hear Kayla and I.”

She cut right through me with her eyes, then waved me off like I was nothing more than the fever talking. “Text me when you feel better.”

“Yep,” I muttered.

And that was that. She slipped into the elevator without another look, while Jasmine juggled her groceries into her own apartment. She gave me a faint little wave, a neighbor’s courtesy, and shut her door.

I closed mine, leaned my forehead against it, and exhaled like I’d been holding my lungs hostage. Then I dragged myself toward the bedroom, each step heavier than the last, like the floor was trying to keep me down. My body was cold, shivering, but my skin was hot enough to fry an egg. Sweating through the fever, throat torn to ribbons.

“Running when it’s raining,” I muttered, tossing myself onto the bed. “Real genius move.”

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