Chapter 9: Deadly Rainfalls and Runs
I stood there, frozen, lips still parted, staring at nothing.
Cassian Locke had kissed me.
Cassian. Locke.
And it wasn’t a press-peck or a stage-kiss. No, it was slow, intentional… possessive. His lips had actually moved against mine, his hand cradling my jaw like we were something real. I barely heard the frantic snap of paparazzi cameras—only the blood rushing through my ears.
By the time I came to my senses, it was too late.
I yanked away from him with a gasp. My eyes darted to the press, all locked onto us like wolves watching prey. Flashes lit the scene like lightning.
Without a word, I turned—and ran.
---
I didn’t stop, even when one of my heels skidded off and clattered behind me.
I just kept running, soaked in panic and confusion, shoving past anyone in my path, my breath hitching. I didn’t want their questions. I didn’t want their headlines.
I wanted out.
Out of their lenses, out of his reach.
Out of this.
Only once I was sure I’d put distance between me and the chaos did I slow. I walked aimlessly, my hands curled into fists, raindrops now hitting my skin like cold needles. The sky had cracked open above me, releasing a downpour so brutal it felt personal.
Great.
Now the universe wanted a say, too.
I dragged myself toward the nearest bus stop, one shoe off, the other barely holding together. My dress clung to my skin like wet paper, my soaked hair sticking to my cheeks.
The wind picked up, howling between buildings like a warning.
I reached the bus stop, only to find it overcrowded with others taking shelter. The only seat left was exposed to the sky, so I sat in it, too tired to care. Rain hit me from all directions.
I pulled my phone from my pocket with trembling fingers.
It was dead.
Literally. Waterlogged and lifeless.
I stared at it blankly. I’d saved up for that phone. Five brutal part-time jobs. Barely sleeping. Living on instant noodles. My mother had begged me to stop, told me my health mattered more.
And now it was dead.
Just like my last shred of sanity.
I tipped my face toward the clouds.
“Seriously?” I asked the sky. “You just had to add rain to the humiliation?”
I closed my eyes.
Everything was going wrong—again.
My head pounded. My fingers shook. My throat burned.
And then came the low rumble of an engine.
I opened my eyes.
A white motorcycle pulled up in front of me, headlights cutting through the rain.
Jackson.
He flipped up the visor on his helmet and grinned. “Sugar plum, you planning to drown or...?”
I blinked, dazed. “What are you doing here?”
“Rescuing a drowned model,” he said casually. “Hop on.”
“I’m fine,” I lied, shivering hard.
He tilted his head, examining me. “You’re sitting in a puddle. That’s not fine.”
“I don’t want to owe you again.”
“Okay. Then let me sit here beside you in the rain, and neither of us will owe anyone anything.”
Before I could argue, he parked the bike, walked over, and sat right next to me—soaking wet, knees bent, arms folded.
“What are you doing?” I asked, exasperated.
“You said you were fine. But now you’re mad I’m joining your fine-ness?”
I stared at him.
He didn’t flinch.
Just smirked.
And that’s what broke me.
“Fine,” I muttered, standing up. “Take me home.”
He was already back on the bike before I’d finished the sentence. “Hold on tight.”
I climbed on behind him, wrapping my arms around his jacket, which smelled like rain and something faintly herbal—cheap cologne, maybe. Not Cassian’s designer scent. Not cold marble and cedar.
Jackson was warm. Familiar. Human.
And for that moment, I was grateful.
---
“I hate him,” I seethed later that night, curled up on Tessa’s sofa in one of her oversized sweaters.
“With your whole heart?” she teased.
“With my soul. And my bone marrow.”
Tessa filed her nails with a raised brow. “That much hate? You're about two inches from falling.”
“Excuse me?”
“Enemies-to-lovers. Classic arc. It’s giving Shakespeare.”
I groaned into her throw pillow. “He’s arrogant. And manipulative. And smug. And—”
“Hot?”
“—irrelevant!”
Tessa smirked. “Right. Totally irrelevant.”
I sat up. “Promise me something.”
“What?”
“That I’ll never, ever fall for someone like Cassian Locke.”
She grinned. “I’ll do you one better. Let’s make it a bet.”
My eyes narrowed. “Go on.”
“If you fall for Cassian, you owe me one favor—any favor. But if you don’t, I owe you.”
“Deal,” I said without hesitation. “My heart is officially immune.”
Tessa held out her hand.
I shook it.
As if that meant anything in the chaos I now lived in.
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