Caroline.” Johnny smiles as he brushes the back
of his hand against my cheek.
Slowly, he slides the hem of my shirt up my sides and over
my chest. I shy away quickly, but he keeps up his task without making a crude
comment or randy remark. So I look back at him. He cautiously guides my arms,
one at a time, through my sleeves, making sure to support my arms so they don’t
carelessly fall and smack against my bruised ribs.
Johnny sets my shirt next to me and sighs.
“What?” I warily ask, afraid to see what I look like myself.
“You are…” He looks up at me and softly smiles. “You are
beautiful, Caroline.”
I don’t know what it is: the moment, the care, or his
freaking accent…but I feel his warmth, and I want more of it.
“Thank you.” I quietly mumble back.
Slowly, he begins to rub the ointment on my ribs, taking
care to not apply pressure when I wince.
He finishes, and I feel a pang of sadness. His hands, his
strong hands, on my body… well, I really enjoyed it andI didn’t want him to stop.
Johnny left my view to wash his hands, and then stepped
quickly back in front of me. “Do you need anything?”
“My shirt-back on?” I try to shrug.
And there’s that sly smile again. “Oh no. You’re staying
just like this.”
“Jerk.” I narrow my eyes.
“I have to head to the studio.”
“Shoot. What time is it?” I completely forgot that I had to
work.
“Oh no. You’re staying right here.” He shakes his head,
suddenly serious.
“Johnny, I can’t.”
“Well, I’m your boss, and I say you’re staying right here.”
He kneels down in front of me.
“Johnny, please…”
But he cuts me off. “Listen, I need you to stay here. Unless
you feel like you need to go to the emergency room.”
“No!” I quickly interject.
“Then you stay here, and when we break for lunch, I’ll bring
you something from craft services.”
“And then you’ll put my shirt back on?” I bite my bottom
lip.
Johnny stares at me for a second. It’s an interesting kind
of stare: like he’s trying to figure me out.
But then he leans into me.
“We’ll see.” He whispers before he plants the softest kiss
on my cheek. “If you need anything, my phone number is right here, next to the
phone.”
Johnny smiles one more time before he turns away and walks
to the door.
“Hey.” I call after him.
“Yeah?” He turns around, his hand on the doorknob.
“Thank you.”
He nods knowingly, and then leaves me alone.
Alone.
Alone.
I have nothing now but the memories: all the memories.
I replay the events of the last few hours over and over in
my head. I beat myself up over my silly, stupid actions. How could I be so
careless? So ridiculously immature?
How could I let that happen to me?
How could I be so vulnerable?
How could I be such a victim?
And then it hits me like a ton of bricks. I was a victim. I
couldn’t stand up for myself. I could’ve been killed.
I feel like I’m going to throw up.
I feel like I’m going to pass out.
I need to get out of here.
So I pick up the phone and dial.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Damn, Care Bear, what the hell happened to you?”
I give Keith a death look, as I was really hoping when I
called him from Johnny’s apartment that he wouldn’t turn around and call his
wife.
“I’m fine.” I grumble, still staring at Keith, the traitor.
“You are not fine.” She coddles me. “Did you get run over by
a car?”
“No.” My feet begin to fidget. “I just got a little bit…
mugged.”
“Oh my God.” Melissa screams as she rises to her feet. “Where
were you? What time? How many people? What did they take? Did you go to the
hospital?”
“Melissa, calm down.” I try to raise my hand up to her, but
my ribs are still aching, and I find it hard to stretch that way. “I just
called Keith because I know you guys have a spare set
of his hand against my cheek.
Slowly, he slides the hem of my shirt up my sides and over
my chest. I shy away quickly, but he keeps up his task without making a crude
comment or randy remark. So I look back at him. He cautiously guides my arms,
one at a time, through my sleeves, making sure to support my arms so they don’t
carelessly fall and smack against my bruised ribs.
Johnny sets my shirt next to me and sighs.
“What?” I warily ask, afraid to see what I look like myself.
“You are…” He looks up at me and softly smiles. “You are
beautiful, Caroline.”
I don’t know what it is: the moment, the care, or his
freaking accent…but I feel his warmth, and I want more of it.
“Thank you.” I quietly mumble back.
Slowly, he begins to rub the ointment on my ribs, taking
care to not apply pressure when I wince.
He finishes, and I feel a pang of sadness. His hands, his
strong hands, on my body… well, I really enjoyed it andI didn’t want him to stop.
Johnny left my view to wash his hands, and then stepped
quickly back in front of me. “Do you need anything?”
“My shirt-back on?” I try to shrug.
And there’s that sly smile again. “Oh no. You’re staying
just like this.”
“Jerk.” I narrow my eyes.
“I have to head to the studio.”
“Shoot. What time is it?” I completely forgot that I had to
work.
“Oh no. You’re staying right here.” He shakes his head,
suddenly serious.
“Johnny, I can’t.”
“Well, I’m your boss, and I say you’re staying right here.”
He kneels down in front of me.
“Johnny, please…”
But he cuts me off. “Listen, I need you to stay here. Unless
you feel like you need to go to the emergency room.”
“No!” I quickly interject.
“Then you stay here, and when we break for lunch, I’ll bring
you something from craft services.”
“And then you’ll put my shirt back on?” I bite my bottom
lip.
Johnny stares at me for a second. It’s an interesting kind
of stare: like he’s trying to figure me out.
But then he leans into me.
“We’ll see.” He whispers before he plants the softest kiss
on my cheek. “If you need anything, my phone number is right here, next to the
phone.”
Johnny smiles one more time before he turns away and walks
to the door.
“Hey.” I call after him.
“Yeah?” He turns around, his hand on the doorknob.
“Thank you.”
He nods knowingly, and then leaves me alone.
Alone.
Alone.
I have nothing now but the memories: all the memories.
I replay the events of the last few hours over and over in
my head. I beat myself up over my silly, stupid actions. How could I be so
careless? So ridiculously immature?
How could I let that happen to me?
How could I be so vulnerable?
How could I be such a victim?
And then it hits me like a ton of bricks. I was a victim. I
couldn’t stand up for myself. I could’ve been killed.
I feel like I’m going to throw up.
I feel like I’m going to pass out.
I need to get out of here.
So I pick up the phone and dial.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Damn, Care Bear, what the hell happened to you?”
I give Keith a death look, as I was really hoping when I
called him from Johnny’s apartment that he wouldn’t turn around and call his
wife.
“I’m fine.” I grumble, still staring at Keith, the traitor.
“You are not fine.” She coddles me. “Did you get run over by
a car?”
“No.” My feet begin to fidget. “I just got a little bit…
mugged.”
“Oh my God.” Melissa screams as she rises to her feet. “Where
were you? What time? How many people? What did they take? Did you go to the
hospital?”
“Melissa, calm down.” I try to raise my hand up to her, but
my ribs are still aching, and I find it hard to stretch that way. “I just
called Keith because I know you guys have a spare set
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