One Cup of Sugar || Sasha x Niccolo

23 - My Little White Lie

AN: Hiiii!

Lol, I am so sorry for leaving you guys on a cliffhanger in the last chapter! Hehe! I told you things were about to get realllyyyyyy messy!!!

I've attached a notes app apology at the top just for you guys <3

- J

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Sashas POV:

Jean's expression was now sleepy, confusion in his eyes as he tried to remember the man's name. My grip on the steering wheel only got tighter and tighter each second. I could only imagine the imprint my hand would make if I squeezed it any longer.

"Fuck," He groans, "my memory. Connie, help me out here! He betrayed your stupid ass. Are you dead?"

He falls onto Connie, who was asleep beside him.

No, don't give that. You know it. I need you to remember right now.

The last five or so minutes were spent with me trying to act like I wasn't internally, and I guess externally as well, panicking. Jean was drunk out of his mind, scrambling to figure out this dude's name.

"You said he was blonde..." I stammer, trying to jog his memory in some way. I suddenly was very hot as I felt sweat pool under my hands.

The car was filled with uneasy tension as I tried choking back nausea. I wanted to do nothing but throw up as Jean kept trying to figure out the man's name.

"Yes, he was." He rubs his eyes, pulling up on his temples. "I'm too drunk for this."

Come on Jean, it's a name. It's not rocket science.

I need him to figure it out before they both remembered that I wasn't supposed to know. This was probably my only chance to ever know the truth. Connie was still passed out, now leaning on the window as he softly snored.

Hurry up. Hurry up, HURRY UP.

"You said something about culinary school?" I continue to pester him.

I was getting a little too anxious to be a safe driver. I was barely paying attention to the dark roads as I tried to get this name out of him. However, I would rather be anxious than let a drunk Jean or Connie drive. I needed to throw my anxiety in the trunk again.

"Oh!" Jean exclaims, "Yeah! He went to some fancy culinary school or something...I don't fucking know. That was what he was planning, at least."

The description was looking a little too much like Nic. My Nic. My Blondie. My stalker. My muse.

The anxiety continued to bubble inside of me, manifesting as intense nausea that caused my head to spin. I didn't want to believe it. I didn't want to believe that he was a bad person. I didn't believe that he could do something terrible to someone I loved. There was no way he was capable of that. I barely knew anything about him, but I knew he was sweet. He's kind. He's gentle. He's never been any kind of malicious to me, ever.

It couldn't be him. This couldn't be our bitter end.

I need to say his name out loud. I need Jean to ask me who that is once I say his name out loud. Spitballing names might jog his memory, right? It had to. And if he did recognize his name...

"Hey, Jean?" I swallow hard, the name getting stuck in my throat.

"Yeah?" He answers from behind me.

"Is his name-"

"Wait!" Jean yells, perking up momentarily, throwing his fist in the air. "I got it!"