Chapter Fourteen Aurora / Joshua
Chapter Fourteen
Aurora / Joshua
Aurora
The last day of the week went by like a blur. Not the good kind, because now I’m stuck with a headache. One I had to shove aside when I was with the girls. But they were sweet, per usual.
Their laughs, their chatter, and the way they included me made the hour we spent together feel lighter. Like maybe the day wasn’t entirely against me.
But then reality hit… again.
I had partner work with Joshua Lockhart at this place. He offered to drive both of us because he thought I’d hire someone to kill him or something. I don’t know. And after that… work.
The part of my life I dreaded most.
I worked nights at a club. Not the glamorous kind, not the safe kind. Just a place with loud music, sticky floors, and men who tipped too much for the wrong reasons.
The truth was… I got requested. A lot.
Not because I was a good waitress, though I tried to be. No, men wanted me because I was the mute one. The quiet one. The “mystery.” In their eyes, I was this silent fantasy wrapped in a short uniform dress and heels.
The girl who wouldn’t talk back.
The girl who couldn’t tell them no.
The girl they could project anything they wanted onto.
They gave me names I hated. Names that reduced me to something less than human.
‘Silent doll.’
‘Mute angel.’
‘Pretty prop.’
As if silence made me theirs to play with.
Every shift felt like walking into a cage of predators. Their eyes clung to me, slow and heavy, stripping away anything I wanted to keep for myself. And with the heels the club forced on me, the tray in my hand, the painted-on smile, I wasn’t Aurora anymore. I was prey.
Some tried to slip me extra cash with the kind of suggestion that made my skin crawl.
‘Other services,’ they’d whisper, like I was for sale. I wasn’t. I never was.
But I couldn’t yell, couldn’t cause a scene, couldn’t risk losing the job that paid too well to quit. So I stayed polite.
I smiled when I wanted to run.
I nodded when I wanted to spit.
I carried drinks, endured stares, and rode out the hours until I could finally peel myself out of that uniform and go home.
It was supposed to be flattering. The attention. The tips. The requests. That’s what the other waitresses said. But flattering was the last thing it felt like. It was suffocating. And each night, I wondered how much of myself I had to keep locking away just to survive one more shift.
I shoved my backpack over my shoulder and left my last class, trying to keep my thoughts from spiralling back to my job.
Three days a week. Friday and weekends. That’s all. I reminded myself that often enough, even when the numbers in my head didn’t make sense.
The tips alone were more than my actual monthly pay, which was absurd, yes, but it kept the rent paid and my apartment safe. Safe. That’s all I wanted.
I waited outside like he told me to, not wanting to start a pointless argument. The chill clung to the air, seeping through my sleeves as I stood by the entrance. After a few minutes, the doors opened, and there he was. Joshua.
He didn’t say anything, just walked past me with that unbothered, cool expression, leading the way toward the parking lot. My steps fell into rhythm behind his until we stopped at a black car, sleek, polished, expensive. Of course it was.
It was different to Miles’s car. His was also just as expensive, but it felt warm, it felt cosy when his voice would linger in the air.
Joshua, on the other hand, was quite the opposite, but it was okay because I wasn’t expecting anything more than whatever was going on, anyway. This awkward, high-tension feeling wasn’t foreign between us.
He frowned, catching me just standing there like an idiot. Without a word, he came around and pulled the passenger side door open, holding it out like an order instead of an offer.
“Get in,” he said, flat, clipped.
The sound of his voice jolted me out of my head. I blinked, snapping back into reality, and gave a quick nod before sliding into the seat. Awkward.
Painfully awkward.
—
When the car finally slowed, I glanced up and froze. My building. What the—?
Joshua pulled into a gated, private garage beneath it, and my entire body went stiff. My throat tightened as the car clicked into park.
He noticed. His head turned, brow furrowing. “What?”
I quickly shook my head, turning away before he could even think about connecting dots I wasn’t ready for him to connect.
Because yes, I lived here. But he didn’t need to know that.
We headed inside, and it didn’t feel like home anymore. The air was heavier, and it just felt… odd. Like I’m in a foreign place when I know full well that I’ve walked across this lobby thousands of times already.
How have I never bumped into him? I seem to do so all the time on campus, but it took a year for me to realise we’re just floors apart.
The elevator ride was the longest of my life. I tried to stand still, tried to breathe like nothing was wrong, but my thoughts spun out of control. If he ever found out I lived here too… oh God. I’d never escape him.
Same building. Same elevator. Same walls. I’d suffocate.
The number climbed floor after floor until it finally stopped at the top. His floor. The penthouse. He didn’t look at me as he stepped out, but I followed anyway, slipping my shoes off by the door without him asking. My body just did it automatically, like I didn’t dare cross a line in his space.
He headed straight for the living room, dropping his keys on the counter. I trailed after him, notebook already in hand, and when he dropped onto the couch, I sat too, just close enough to work, not close enough to touch.
“What are we doing?” His tone was flat, his eyes narrowing slightly as if I’d dragged him into something he hadn’t signed up for.
I scribbled quickly: You just have to answer a few questions. Then I held it out to him.
He frowned. “What kind?”
I tapped the page, writing again. About being the captain and some other easy stuff. If you’re too busy, then type a vague answer, and I’ll just correct your grammar and add more.
He leaned back, staring at me for a long moment as if he regretted agreeing to this.
Finally, he muttered, “Okay, whatever.”
Fine. Good. Easier for both of us.
I quickly scribbled down another sentence, hopefully the last one, before turning to him: It’ll take a bit; I couldn’t finish the questions in time.
He didn’t even blink and just let out a low hum. “Mm-hmm.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him pull his phone out. A few quiet taps. Probably occupying himself while waiting for me.
So eerie.
Roughly fifteen minutes later, a knock came at the door. Joshua dropped his phone on the couch and got up to answer it.
He came back with a bag and simply set it down on the table closest to my side, like it was the most natural offer in the world. I looked down at it before my gaze went to him, confused.
Hm?
He nudged it closer when he saw that I didn’t move. “Eat.” His voice was firm. “Heard girls get moody when they’re hungry. Hangry or whatever.”
For the first time, my lips twitched.
Hangry? That was his logic?
I bit down on the smile threatening to escape.
Because honestly… it was adorable. I can’t believe I just put Joshua Lockhart with the word adorable, but I just can’t help it, seriously.
Him saying something like that so seriously.
Adorable and ironic, considering I’d spent most of my life hungry and never once had the luxury of being moody about it.
But still, I’m very grateful that his logic on girls made him seem a bit more human. Rare, and I got to see it.
—
Joshua
I didn’t usually order food. I hate the grease, the wait and the fact that I didn’t know what happened while it was being delivered.
I cook. Always. But cooking would’ve taken longer, and she looked like she needed something now, as if she didn’t eat soon, she’d just keep working herself into the ground. So I ordered.
I told myself it was practical. Efficient. Nothing else. But now, sitting here, a burger in my hand… I couldn’t focus on anything but her.
She was curled up at the other end of the couch, notebook in her lap, laptop balanced on her knees.
Her head was bent low, hair falling like a curtain as she typed with one hand and held the burger I got her with the other, taking these tiny, careful bites like she was afraid of making a mess.
It was ridiculous how soft it looked. She even chewed quietly, trying not to disturb me.
Adorable. She was actually… fucking adorable. And I hated it. Or at least I was supposed to—to hate everything about her being here. The partnership. The constant proximity. The way the universe threw her into my schedule, my space.
Then, she moved.
Sitting up. Scooting closer. Closer.
I froze mid-bite, half a chew hanging in my mouth.
What the fuck is she doing?
She wiggled—actually wiggled—her way over until she was right next to me, thigh nearly brushing mine. My grip on the burger tightened. Heat surged in my chest, up my neck.
Why the fuck am I nervous? I’ve been near her before, but now? Now my pulse is tripping, and I could feel the tip of my ear heating up to the point it burned.
Then she tilted her laptop toward me. A fresh Google Doc opened, a neat little list of questions staring me down.
I blinked. My stomach dropped. Thirteen.
Thirteen pages.
Fuck off.
My first instinct was to shut the laptop right there. Thirteen pages of academic bullshit? No way. But then my eyes flicked to her.
She was watching me with those wide, careful eyes, like she expected me to say no. And that’s when it hit me... if I finish this fast, she’s gone. Done. Out the door. Two hours cut short.
If I take my time… she stays.
My jaw clenched. I could blaze through thirteen questions in half an hour—if I didn’t bother to try—easy. But I wasn’t going to. Not with something that is hers.
So I sat back, cracked my knuckles, and started typing slowly. Careful. Detailed. Thought-out answers she’d never expect from me.