𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐱-𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐛𝐨𝐬𝐬
Daisy Kim's life takes a huge turn when her struggling company gets sold to a billionaire. But the real twist lies in her new boss's identity-who is none other than her ex...
Before I could appreciate the man's beauty, he grabbed me and pulled it into his chest.
My nose bopped into his hard chest, and my eyes welled up with tears from the sudden impact. He was not pretty anymore. I glared up at him, my vision a blurry mess of emotions.
It was almost comical to watch his angry expression morph into full-on panic. He grabbed my face, and his words sounded like a jumble of unintelligible syllables, but I understood some of it.
"What happened, baby?" he asked, his voice impossibly soft amidst the blaring music. "Did he touch you?" His words were frantic, and his hands searched my face for signs of distress. "Please don't cry."
The overgrown man was in full-blown panic mode, and for some reason, I almost found it funny. My teary eyes betrayed my amusement as I giggled, watching his worry melt into confusion.
"You're worried about me?" I said, my words slurring slightly. "Aw, how sweet." I reached up to pat his cheek with my not-so-steady hand. "But don't worry, big, strong, throwing man. I can handle myself." I smiled.
He leaned in, and I immediately scrunched my nose in mock disgust as he sniffed the air around me like some detective. "You are drunk," he declared, his eyes widening ever so slightly as he made his discovery.
"No, I am not," I protested, doing my best to sound sober. But my brain was failing me, and my words came out slurred.
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I grabbed his hand, squinting at it like I was inspecting a rare artifact. "Woah, buddy. You have big hands," I commented, finding this observation of utmost importance.
"I am not your buddy," he growled with a frown, clearly not appreciating my nickname for him.
"You're not my buddy?" I repeated, my lower lip trembling as my eyes began to well up again. "But I thought we were friends."
His face paled, and he seemed to realize that he had probably made a mistake with his choice of words. "Don't cry," he hissed, clearly flustered. "I am your fucking buddy."
I burst into giggles at his crude choice of words, finding it utterly hilarious. "Fucking buddy?" I snorted, trying to stifle my laughter. "That sounds like a terrible porn title."
He looked horrified at my comment, and I couldn't help but find his reaction even funnier. "Oh, lighten up, Mr. Fucking Buddy," I said, not bothering to censor myself.
"I like you," I declared, hugging him with all my strength. He froze like a statue, clearly not expecting this sudden show of affection.
"You're my buddy now," I announced with a sense of satisfaction. "Deal with it."
Oh, I was on a roll tonight! Dancing was my escape, and no one was going to stop me, not even my serious and brooding buddy. "Let's go dance," I declared, determined to drag him onto the dance floor.
But he had other plans. He grabbed my hand, his grip firm and unwavering. "We are not dancing; we are going home," he said, his voice dead serious. Ugh, why did he have to be such a buzzkill? "But I want to dance~" I pouted, trying to use my best puppy-dog eyes.
"No," he refused, and before I could say anything, he effortlessly picked me up and slung me over his shoulder like a sack of rice. "Hey!" I protested, trying to wriggle free, but he held me firmly in place.
I couldn't help myself, I had to take a chance to give his butt a playful smack. "You have a nice ass," I commented. Oh, the look on his face was priceless-a mix of frustration and helplessness.
I giggled, looking at how his ears turned red. My buddy is cute.
"Oo, I can feel the cold air on my ass," I giggled as he momentarily paused, nearly causing me to faceplant into his back. "Oops, that means my vagina is also out," I asked, thinking I was hilarious.
He quickly recovered, pulling my dress down with a seriousness that surprised me. "You're not wearing underwear?" he growled, clearly caught off guard by my lack of convention.
"VPL, you dumbo," I playfully hit his back, loving the way he grunted in response.
"What's that?" he rumbled, and his deep voice sent a shiver down my spine, making my stomach perform somersaults.
"Visible panty line," I explained with a cheeky grin, feeling bold in my drunken state.
I could feel his frustration radiating off him as he sighed heavily. I leaned back in his car seat, making myself comfortable, still feeling a little giddy from the alcohol.
"Oh my god," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "Did you just get into a stranger's car while drunk?"
"You are a stranger?" I asked, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion.
"I am not," he breathed, clearly exasperated. "But-fuck-you are drunk, and you don't even recognize me-fuck-what should I do with you?"
"What do you want to do with me?" I inquired innocently, not quite grasping the seriousness of the situation. My mind was a bit foggy, and I couldn't understand why he seemed so angry and helpless at the same time.
I watched him inhale and exhale deeply, trying to keep his composure. But something was off, and I couldn't quite figure it out. What happened? Why did he look so upset? Did I ask the wrong question? My lips puckered into a pout. "Sorry," I mumbled, feeling a twinge of guilt.
"Shit," he cursed again, his frustration evident. "Don't be sad, baby. I just-fuck-I can't even scold her," he muttered something completely nonsensical. It was like he was speaking an alien language, but he also mixed in some English words. What was going on? Was this some new language called "aliengish"?
I couldn't help but giggle at the absurdity of it all, not fully understanding the seriousness of the situation. "It's okay, buddy," I said, reassuring him. "I'm not sad. Just a little tipsy, that's all."
He shot me a sideways glance, his expression a mix of annoyance and concern. "Tipsy? You're practically wasted," he retorted.
I just shrugged, not caring about the technicalities. "Potato, potahto," I said with a goofy smile.
He scoffed, seemingly at a loss for what to do with me.
As the car continued down the dark streets, I leaned my head against the window, feeling oddly content in the company of this frustrating yet intriguing man.
----
How much do you think she'll regret tonight when she's sober?
Also those hands-I wished they were wrapped around my-
