Rejected: A love story-Chapter 113: Please tell me you used a condom

I entered the house, quickly searching for my key under the mat. My fingers brushed against the cool metal, and I grabbed it, unlocking the door. As soon as I stepped inside, I headed straight to my room, hastily searching for something to wear. After rummaging through my closet, I settled on a pair of jeans and a blue top.

I pulled off my old clothes, tossing them carelessly onto the floor, and grabbed fresh panties and a bra. Once I had them on, I slipped into the jeans and the top I had picked earlier. My eyes darted around the room as I searched for my phone, but it was nowhere to be found. Then it hit me—I had given it to Tasha at the club.

Grabbing my books and my bag, I rushed out of the house and began walking quickly toward the school. By the time I entered the classroom, the professor wasn’t paying attention to me, thankfully, as I slid into the empty seat beside Tasha.

"Where have you been?" she asked, her voice low enough not to catch the professor’s attention.

I waited for the professor to turn away before answering. "Where’s my phone?" I asked instead, ignoring her question.

"That’s not the question."

"Can I just have my phone first?"

She sighed, reluctantly reaching into her bag. When she handed it to me, I snatched it away from her.

"So, can you answer my question now?" she asked, staring at me pointedly.

"Can we talk about this after class? I need to focus on what the professor is saying."

"Fine, but you’re not escaping this," she muttered, leaning back in her chair.

I finally turned my attention to the professor, trying to catch up on what he had been saying since I walked in.

"Do you at least have the notes? Can I see what you’ve written down so far?"

Tasha hesitated but eventually passed her notebook to me. I flipped through it, jotting down the key points I had missed.

As soon as class ended, Tasha stood in front of me, blocking my path. Well, I had some questions of my own that I needed answered.

"So, what happened? I was looking for you but couldn’t find you. The mask wasn’t helping either—I literally went around the club searching for you."

She gave me a look. "I was with you the whole night, but my drink got spiked."

"Wait! You told me you were going to grab one drink and handed me your phone. You never came back. I even thought you were with Mike, but he was also looking for you."

I covered my face in frustration. Who the hell did I lodge in a motel with?

"Wait! Did you go home with a hot guy?" Tasha teased, raising an eyebrow.

"Tasha, please! Look, my mind is blank. I can’t remember a thing."

"Please tell me you used a condom!"

"Tasha, I don’t know! I woke up bare!"

"I hope he was a hot dude," she said, reaching into her bag and pulling out a small pill.

"Here, swallow this. You’re still safe as long as it’s not more than 72 hours."

Nathan Pov

I arrived at the office earlier than usual, something that rarely happened. Today, though, I didn’t mind. My thoughts were elsewhere, and the mundane routine of work couldn’t dampen my mood. I hoped she took the cash I left. It wasn’t much—not for someone like me—but it was enough to make sure she wouldn’t need anything in the short term.

As I stared out the transparent glass wall of my office, I found myself admiring the city for the first time in years. The skyline stretched out before me, a mix of gray concrete and shimmering glass, but my mind wasn’t on the view. It was on her. Fiona.

I couldn’t stop smiling, thinking about her. The way she felt in my arms last night, the softness of her voice, the way her masked eyes had stared into mine—it was enough to keep me buoyant. Having her close again, even if she didn’t know who I was, was a moment I would replay over and over.

My mind drifted to the kiss. God, that kiss. It wasn’t planned. I hadn’t meant to do it, but when her lips were so close to mine, I couldn’t resist. I didn’t know when the chuckle escaped me, but it did, breaking the silence in the room.

I turned in my chair, away from the window, still smiling like a fool, when—

"Jeeze! Alex!" I snapped, startled. "Why sneak up on me in my office?"

Alex, my executive assistant, stood frozen near the door, his eyes wide with surprise.

"I’m sorry, sir," he stammered. "I knocked. You were—I mean, I knocked and called your name several times. You weren’t answering."

I frowned, irritated at the interruption. "Why are you in my office?"

Alex shifted uneasily, holding a stack of papers in his hands. "Um... the meeting, sir. It’s scheduled for eight."

I rubbed my temple, annoyed. "Didn’t I already say you would attend the meeting? If salary is your issue, I’ll double it."

Alex smiled faintly, clearly amused by my mood. "Seems like you got to see Miss Fiona," he said, his tone light but probing.

I froze, my gaze snapping to him. "Alex," I said slowly, my voice dangerously low. "The fact that you know everything about me doesn’t mean you should be interfering in _everything._"

Alex’s smile faded instantly, and he dropped his gaze to the floor. "I’m sorry, sir," he said quickly, his tone apologetic.

"Just leave," I ordered, pointing toward the door.

Alex didn’t need to be told twice. He nodded, muttered another apology, and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

As soon as he was gone, I leaned back in my chair, exhaling deeply. Alex wasn’t wrong. He always knew too much about me—my habits, my routines, and, unfortunately, my feelings for Fiona. But I didn’t need him poking around in my business.

I turned my attention back to the city, letting the calmness of the view settle over me. The memory of Fiona was still fresh, still vivid. I wondered if she had taken the cash. I didn’t want her to feel insulted by it, but I also didn’t want her to struggle.

The thought of her struggling, of her needing anything, made my chest tighten. She wasn’t the same girl I had known months ago. She was different now—more guarded, more distant. But last night, in those fleeting moments, I saw glimpses of the Fiona I remembered.

I chuckled again, shaking my head. "Fiona," I whispered to myself. "You’ll be the death of me."