The Saint Jones [Completed]

chapter 49: Justin's Reaction

Sether

My naked eyes are stuck on the white wall of the room, what am I looking at? that's a good question. Suddenly, something heats up my body and I push down the covers for what feels like the hundredth time. The temperature in the room is playing tricks on me, one minutes it's cold and the other, it's as hot as summer in California.

I'm already irritated, this room and this cruise in general are already driving me sick. What's the purpose of working in a place where you feel disgusted and trapped like an animal behind bars? There was a time, long time ago, when I was extremely excited to work here, but the reality behind it all slapped me pretty hard.

I can't stop thinking about her, what is she doing? Is she okay? Is she perhaps thinking about me too? Is she changing her mind? So many annoying questions that are stuck in my mind. I would like to get up and put some clothes on then scroll down the corridors towards her room but the thing is, this can be dangerous as hell.

Unfortunately for us, she's not a worker, she's a passenger, our situation is pretty complicated and rough. First rule printed in black ink on the Saint Jones rules book is; Workers do no have the right, in whatsoever condition, to have any relationship with passengers. Why this rule? No response to that. And this is the most ridiculous rule I have ever seen.

If only it didn't exist, if only I wasn't the prey of others eyes, if only the whole situation was different. I groan and put my hands behind my head, it's about to explode like a bomb on time, it hurts because I have zero idea how the heck I'm going to survive all of this.

Suddenly a knock is heard on my door. One, two, three knocks, now it's literally playing the sound of a melody and I don't need to see the person to know who's knocking right now, there's only one person who would knock on my door as if he's feeling himself in a musical movie.

"Knock, knock!" He yells from the other side. And here we go again, my other part of hell.

My eyes closes as I try to not care about him, maybe he'll go away when he'll realize that I'm sleeping. I turn on my stomach and put one of the pillows on my head. But he keeps going, knocking and talking like an idiot outside my room. If my head wasn't occupied by other things, I would've opened that door and kick him in the ass.

Moments after, calmness takes the lead again, but not the kind of calmness that means he's gone, no, that kind of calmness means something else, something I usually won't like afterwards. The aftereffects are usually the drop of water that overflows the vase.

I hear the click, but I try to not think about it too much, it can be just someone else who's opening their doors. But the faint clacking of the door appalled me, this is definitely from my door. I raise my head and look at the door, my heart almost releases me when my eyes set on what's happening.

"Get the hell out of here," I groan and let my head fall back on the mattress, heart beating widely. Of course it was him, how could I not know? After all, who would be stupid enough to get in my room without my consent.

"It's not the best way to welcome your best friend and big bro in your fortress," he says with his annoying, happy tone of voice.

The mattress shift near my right thigh. Why does he always have to come and annoy the shit out of me like that? What's the point? He knows I'll push him away. Sometimes I can't hide that having him with me is partially recommended and helpful but in moments like these, like right now, moments where my head is in disapproval with the rest of my body, I just need to be alone, and he always comes in moments I don't need his presence at all.

"What's up, what are you doing on this bed like an expired whale, in your boxers only?" He asks and grabs the hem of my boxers and then he releases it, it slaps on the skin of my waist.