Chapter Seven
SEVEN
Micah
“That professor sounds like a grade-A dickhead. Want me to kill him?”
I choke on the sip of tea I just took as I laugh at what my sister just said.
“Crap, sorry,” Jordan says on the other line of the phone. “I didn’t mean for you to choke to death.”
I cough a few more times, then take another sip of tea.
“It’s okay,” I say, my throat raw. “It was worth it.”
I’ve just arrived home to Jordan’s condo. We’re having our weekly video chat, and I’ve just finished venting to her about how Aidan was trying to get me fired.
“Seriously though, I’ll buy a plane ticket right now and kick his ass for being such a jerk to you,” Jordan says.
I soften at the conviction in her tone. Having a twin sister who’s ready to drop everything to defend me is something I’m grateful for. Jordan’s been this way our entire lives. She’s always been protective of the people she loves, especially me.
“Will you pull the same move you did when we were in kindergarten and that boy pushed me off the swing?” I tease.
Even now I can picture Jordan running up to that kid and kicking him in the balls.
“You know me. Always aim for the jewels. Always,” she says.
I laugh. “As enticing as that is, I’ll have to decline. Thanks though.”
“Oh, come on,” she whines. “I’ve been going extra hard in my boxing-fitness classes. I want to put my skills to practical use. Kicking your work bully’s ass would be a perfect way to do that.”
“You’re the best, you know that?”
“So are you.”
“How’s London?” I ask.
“Amazing, I assume. Can’t really say though because I’ve been holed up in my office working ever since I got here.”
“You’re such a workaholic.”
“I love my job. There’s a difference,” she says pointedly.
My sister is a corporate lawyer who recently moved to London to work on a huge international case for her firm.
“Please tell me you’re at least getting home at a reasonable hour and not working through the night at your office,” I say.
“I’ve only done that twice. Okay, three times.” She pauses. “Fine, four.”
“Yeah, you’re totally not a workaholic,” I joke.
“Shut up,” she says through a chuckle.
“Seriously though, Jordan. Be sure to take a break every once in a while, okay? Make some time for yourself. It’s not good for you to work all the time.”
She sighs. “Okay, okay. I will.”
“Promise me you’ll do something fun this weekend. Something touristy. Like ride on the London Eye. Or take a selfie in front of Buckingham Palace.”
My sister groans.
“Promise me.”
She sighs. “I’ll go check out Big Ben Saturday morning, but that’s the best I can do.”
I smile. “Perfect. Send me a selfie for proof.”
“You’re such a stickler.”
“I’m an auditor. I can’t help it.”
We both laugh.
“I really needed this vent session, Jordan. Thanks for this.”
“Always. No matter what.”
I tuck my feet under my legs as I lounge on her plush sofa and glance out the floor-to-ceiling window of her top-floor condo. City lights from the buildings nearby twinkle against the indigo night sky. This place is ridiculously nice, and my sister is a saint for letting me stay here rent-free.
“Thank you again for letting me stay at your place,” I say softly. “I swear, I’ll pay you back once I build my savings back up—”
“No way, Micah.”
I let out a heavy breath. “Come on, Jordan. I feel like I’m taking advantage of you.”
She laughs like I’ve just said the most ridiculous thing ever.
“Don’t even try it. Micah, I own my condo. I don’t make mortgage payments on it anymore, so that would be pretty messed up of me to make my own sister give me money for staying there. Besides, you’re doing me a favor by looking after the place while I’m gone. With you there I’m not stressed about a pipe bursting or something catching on fire.”
I feel the slightest bit comforted. “Thanks, Jordan. Really.”
After ending things with Ashton, I had almost no savings and moved into a place I could barely afford and racked up so much credit-card debt just to pay my bills. As soon as my sister and parents found out about my financial situation, they swooped in to help me. Jordan insisted I move into her place for free while she was away in England. And my parents gave me money to pay off my debt. I’m so lucky to have them.
Jordan is quiet for a second. “So… Fuckface hasn’t tried to bother you again, right?”
I smile at my sister’s nickname for my ex. “No. He hasn’t.”
“Good.” She’s quiet again. “You know, Micah, all you have to do is say the word and I’m happy to go all psycho lawyer on him. He deserves it for what he did to you.”
A cocktail of pain and shame whirls through me like a tornado.
“Jordan, I told you. I don’t want to deal with him anymore. I want to just leave him in the past, where he belongs.”
A heavy sigh echoes from her end of the line. “Micah, he was an asshole to you. He broke your heart and he screwed you over. He deserves to have his ass nailed to the wall.”
I close my eyes, my chest squeezing when I think about my relationship with Ashton. We dated for two years. After a year together, I moved into his house and started paying him rent. From the moment I met him, I was in awe of him. He was a successful author who had won awards for his books. I was so excited that someone so accomplished and brilliant was interested in me. And when I told him about my dreams to be a writer someday, he was sweet and supportive. He encouraged me to write in my spare time and even offered to read and critique my work.
My stomach churns when I think back to the first time I let him read my writing. I had written a short story. I’ve always loved reading romance, so I thought it was only natural that I write one.
I can still remember how he cackled when he read it. Like it was a joke.
I remember exactly what he said. I’ll remember it forever.
Sweetie, this is cute, but come on. This is smut. Utter trash. So lowbrow. You can do better than this.
The worst part was how instead of standing up for myself, I felt embarrassed and ashamed. Because in that moment, I thought he was right. I thought that since he was a brilliant author, he knew better than me.
I forced out a laugh to hide how I really felt and said he was right. And then I stopped writing altogether. Just like that, I abandoned what I loved. I haven’t written anything since.
Pain stabs through my chest when I think about the day I came home early from work and saw his phone on the coffee table.
I didn’t mean to snoop, but as I sat down on the couch, he got a text. It was a photo of his assistant, Bianca, topless.
For a second, I froze, my eyes wide as I stared at the photo. And before I could tell myself not to, I grabbed his phone and read the text she sent along with the image.
Aching for you.
I shot up to my feet a second later and ran to the bathroom to vomit. I couldn’t believe it. Ashton was cheating on me.
“Micah, you paid Fuckface’s mortgage for a full year.” My sister’s voice jolts me back to the present. “You helped pay for his renovations with your savings too.”
God, I was so, so stupid to do all that, to give him all my money. We weren’t even married.
“And the whole time he was cheating on you. That asshole owes you thousands of dollars.”
I close my eyes and shake my head. “I know. Believe me, I know…but legally, I don’t have any claim to that money. You know I don’t. My name wasn’t on the mortgage. He doesn’t owe me anything.”
Jordan exhales sharply, then goes quiet again.
“I’m sorry,” she finally says. “I didn’t mean to rehash all this—I just… I love you, Micah. You’re my twin sister, and my instinct is to fight for you. Always.”
A sad smile tugs at my lips. “I love you for that.”
“And I know you don’t like it when I pry, but have you dated anyone since ending things with him?”
I shake my head.
Jordan stares at me. “Come on, Micah. It’s been almost a year.”
“I know. It’s just…the thought of dating again freaks me out. What if I fall for someone and they screw me over again?”
“Then don’t date. Just hook up.”
I laugh at how she says it, like it’s a no-brainer.
“I don’t know if I’m built for hookups. Sex always feels so personal to me. I’m not interested in having sex casually.”
“Then just do mouth stuff and hand stuff.”
I burst out laughing. “I can’t believe you just said that.”
She shrugs and smiles. “I’m a lawyer. I’m always to-the-point about everything.”
When I finally stop laughing, I think about what she said.
“Okay, I’ll admit it would be fun to be with someone who I could mess around with. A guy who would be okay with something casual but not full-on sex. But that’s so specific. No one would be on board with that.”
“Micah, come on. You’re gorgeous, smart, funny, and a blast to be around. Guys would line up around the block to be your almost-fuck buddy.”
I laugh again, then glance at the clock on the wall. “Shoot, it’s almost eleven your time. Sorry for keeping you up so late.”
“Don’t be. You know I’m a night owl.”
“I hate this time difference between us.”
She sighs. “Same. But I’m only here till the summer. Then I’m back and we can meet in person for our weekly vent sessions like we normally do.”
I smile. “Can’t wait.”
“If you change your mind about wanting me to come home and kick Professor Douche Canoe’s ass, let me know.”
I chuckle. It feels good to laugh after reliving all those ugly feelings from my breakup.
“I promise I will.”
“I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself,” Jordan says. “And hey, don’t be afraid to get petty if he keeps being a jerk to you.”
“We don’t have to take it that far, Jordan.”
She scoffs. “We absolutely do. He tried to get you fired, Micah. And you did nothing wrong. You were just doing your job. If he’s going to play dirty, then you’re allowed to play dirty too.”
I’m quiet as I mull over my sister’s words. I’ve never had a problem standing up for myself in uncomfortable work situations. I never crossed the line though, no matter how rude or mean a client or coworker has been to me.
“I don’t know if I have it in me to play dirty, Jordan.”
“That’s why you have a scrappy twin sister. Think of all the stuff I was exposed to in law school. I’m full of ideas.”
When I think back to everything my sister told me she dealt with as a law student at Vanderbilt, I still can’t believe it. I thought all you had to do to succeed at a top law school was study hard and perform well in class. I was wrong.
Jordan told me that some of her classmates were downright psycho with the way they tried to sabotage each other. Cutthroat doesn’t even begin to describe it. They hid textbooks at the library, stole study guides, and posted the wrong dates for the finals schedule on online student forums. One student even tried to poison his rival during a test because he wanted to ensure he got the top grade in the class. His rival was allergic to nuts, so the guy splashed peanut oil into his coffee when he wasn’t looking. During the test, he had a severe allergic reaction. Paramedics were called, and thankfully the student survived. The psycho student was caught and arrested and kicked out of law school.
“I want to avoid jail time, so I’m going to stick to the professional route,” I say.
“Such a rule follower,” she teases. “So what’s your plan, then?”
“I’m going to ask to meet with him one-on-one tomorrow morning so we can clear the air. And then we can move on like professionals.”
“Good luck with that.”
We tell each other goodbye, and I hang up and cook myself a quick dinner. I sit down at the table and pull up the Scribble Share app on my phone so I can binge-read ShakespeareInLust’s fanfic while I eat.
When I see a brand-new post, I smile, eager to dive in.
Lava blasted through Rome’s veins as he took in the sight in front of him.
Casio stood just a dozen feet away, his hand gripped around Jia’s wrist, pressing her up against a wall.
Jia’s face was twisted in pain. “Don’t touch me.”
Casio flashed a smirk as he leered down at Jia. “I can touch you all I want. Your father said so.”
Jia tried to pull away, but his grip on her wrist was too tight. She winced in pain. “He would never say that.”
Casio lowered his face to Jia’s. “Your father said to bring you back to him by any means necessary.” With his free hand, he grabbed her chin roughly and jerked her face up to look at him. “And in my opinion, this is necessary. You’re a feisty one.”
Something inside Rome snapped. Never in his life had he cleared a dozen feet of space so quickly. It didn’t even take a second for him to make it to Casio. Powered by adrenaline and rage, Rome grabbed Casio by the neck, pulling him off of Jia.
Casio stumbled back, quickly righting himself. Rome moved in front of Jia, creating a barrier between the woman he loved and the man he wanted to rip apart with his bare hands.
Rage pumped hot in his veins as he glowered at the man who dared to put his hands on Jia. His Jia.
“Don’t fucking touch her,” Rome growled.
“Too late. Already did.”
The muscles in Rome’s hands ached to strangle him. “You’re going to fucking die for hurting her.”
A bitter laugh fell from Casio’s evil smirk. “Someone’s jealous,” he taunted. A second later, he pulled a knife from his pocket.
Behind Rome, Jia gasped. He wanted more than anything to turn around and comfort her, to tell her this would all be okay. But he couldn’t look away from Casio. He needed to keep his eyes on him to protect himself—to protect Jia.
Casio brandished the knife. “I’m taking her with me.”
“The fuck you are.”
Another evil laugh fell from Casio’s lips. “I’m gonna enjoy gutting you like a fucking fish.”
Rome stepped forward, closing the space between them.
Casio blinked at him, clearly surprised. He lunged forward, the knife in hand, but Rome was quick to react. With the outside of his forearm, he blocked Casio by hitting the inside of his bicep while punching him in the stomach with his free hand.
Casio hunched over in pain but straightened back up a second later. He lunged forward and slashed at Rome, cutting his shoulder.
Jia yelled, but Rome was unfazed. It was like he didn’t even feel it. Because he didn’t. All he felt was the urge to protect Jia. It was the single driving force in his body. His brain, his muscles, his bones, his blood—everything in his body worked together for a single goal.
Protect Jia.
Rome moved liked a machine. He ducked and dodged Casio’s blade, then landed a punch to his side, then another to his jaw.
Casio wobbled on unsteady feet. Even with his knife, he was powerless against Rome’s rage and fury.
Casio lunged forward, but Rome ducked to the side. Losing his balance, Casio fell to the ground, dropping the knife. A split second later, Rome jumped on top of him. He pummeled him over and over again until his face was a bloody pulp, until his knuckles were raw, until Casio was just a mound of unmoving flesh on the concrete.
His heart pounding in his chest, Rome stood up, panting hard in an attempt to catch his breath.
“Rome…”
Jia whispering his name snapped him out of his rage-fueled trance.
He looked at her, taking in the worried look on her beautiful face, her chestnut hair in her face, the tears tumbling down her cheeks.
She stepped up to him, hugging her arms around him tight. When he groaned, she let go of him.
Her deep brown eyes were wide with concern. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Emotion bloomed in his chest as he gazed down at Jia. She was safe. She was in his arms again. Nothing else mattered.
He pulled her back into his chest and kissed the top of her head.
“Don’t worry about me, Jia. I’m just fine.”
It’s not till I finish reading that I realize I’ve been holding my breath. I exhale.
“Wow…” I smile to myself. I’ve never been a fan of violence on TV shows and movies, but there’s just something about a protective romance hero who’s willing to fight for his love interest that drives me wild in the best way. It’s like catnip.
When I see all the glowing comments at the end of the post, I’m not surprised. That was superhot to read.
It must feel amazing to have so many people adore your writing. I wonder how ShakespeareInLust feels when they see this reaction. If I were brave enough to post my writing on this app and people actually liked it, I’d be over the moon. It would be a nice change from being treated like enemy number one at my job.
But no way do I have the guts to do that after Ashton’s criticism.
I tap the comment box and start typing. I’m terrible about remembering to leave comments after reading, even though I know I should. I’m sure the authors appreciate the positive feedback from their readers. But sometimes I just get so caught up in the story that I forget. And honestly, I get nervous that the authors will read my comments and think that they’re silly. I bet ShakespeareInLust doesn’t even read all the comments they get anyway, given their popularity. They probably won’t even see mine.
I’m overthinking this. I finally type a comment.
Okay, @ShakespeareInLust. It’s official. You’ve unleashed a new kink for me. I had no idea that “Don’t fucking touch her” and “You’re going to die for hurting her” could get me so hot! AMAZING!
I chuckle as I read back my comment. And my username: Hot4Hermia. I came up with that when I first joined the app. If ShakespeareInLust ends up seeing my comment, I wonder if they’ll like the reference to A Midsummer Night’s Dream .
I set my phone aside to clean my dishes at the sink. When I go back to the table, an alert pops on my phone screen.
When I read it, I gasp.
ShakepeareInLust just replied to my comment.