Chapter 3: Let's talk about sex

"Something 'bout you, makes me feel like a dangerous woman.
(Something 'bout, something 'bout)
Something 'bout you, makes me wanna do things that I shouldn't."

Veronica

I had a meeting today.

With my publisher.

Which lasted for four hours.

Four. Fucking. Hours.

I almost fell asleep two times during the meeting. Keyword being 'almost'. It was the coffee that kept me hanging.

When I came out of the conference room, I couldn't feel my legs anymore. I don't know how I'll drive. Maybe I'll get into an accident. I'll be admitted to the hospital where Drew will visit me everyday and bring me soup.

Yeah, I can totally envision it.

It's not going to happen though. Ever.

But a girl can still hope.

And a girl like me ( who is also a writer of romance novels) can definitely hope something like this.

Ah, the joys of reading and writing romance fiction.

Bless those authors. Bless moi.

I seriously wish that someday my life will have a happy ending. Just like my first novel.

I know it won't. But again, a girl can still hope.

Refusing to feel sad about my lonely boring life anymore, I pick myself up from the plastic chair I was sitting on and walk to the parking lot of the publisher's office.

Puffin.

Never had I imagined my book will be published under such a prestigious label.

A grin makes it's way onto my face and I start driving my Audi.

One bestseller book has brought me the car and the apartment ( I have to pay rent, it's not free). Hopefully another bestseller will let me buy my own place. Drew, however, has no such luck. He'll probably want to stay in a big, lavish apartment and that comes very costly in New York. He'll have to work his ass off for another two years or so before he can buy his own apartment.

Poor him. Our dads' company doesn't pay him that well. Not everyone is as fortunate as Christian Grey ( look-wise and money-wise). Drew has the look. Trust me when I say this, he's sexy as fuck. But money? That's more like, 'limited edition'.

Drew is an excellent pianist and singer. I wonder, would he have been a famous musician if he wasn't forced to be the COO? I would have been very proud of him, that's for sure. And very happy too.

Not that I'm don't feel proud of him now. It's just that, I would have felt happier if he was allowed to do his own thing.

Drew is hardworking and passionate about what he does. But his parents ruined it for him. Deep down, he's just as broken as I am. He just refuses to show it. To the world, he's successful and popular, every girl's dream guy. But to me, he's still the lanky 13 year old beautiful and broken boy I had fallen in love with.

His parents had always favored Ashton over him ever since they were kids. Growing up, he hardly got any affection and love from them. His condition was the same as mine and is still similar. I think that's why I got attracted to him in the first place. I felt for him. Both of us needed love that we couldn't get and will probably never get.

Only Amanda could give him that. But I drove her away. It isn't exactly my fault though. She didn't trust Drew and thought he was cheating behind her back.

Drew didn't fight for her. I didn't do anything to convince her that her doubts were baseless. I could've but I didn't.

Drew had blamed me so many times for it that now I feel convinced it was my fault.

I'd kill to go back in time and fix everything. I just want Drew to be happy. If Amanda makes him happy, then so be it.

But I was a coward and I let her take away Drew's happiness.

However, there's one thing that bugs me almost every day.

Why did Drew let her go?

-

"Drew, are you home?" I call out as I step into the our apartment.

No sound.

He'll be late perhaps.

As I look around the apartment, the beauty of it doesn't fail to amaze me. Our parents had the best interior designers decorate it and truth be told, it looks spectacular. Too bad they couldn't make this house a home.

I glance at my Michael Kors watch.

9 PM.

I enter the kitchen trying to come up with dinner ideas and I almost scream in horror when I see someone in there.

Drew.

He's sitting on the barstool with his head resting on the kitchen countertop. He's fast asleep.

I smile at his sleeping figure and open the refrigerator.

No cooked food.

He didn't have dinner then.

Normally he cooks on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays and I cook on the alternate ones. On Sundays, we order Chinese or pizza.

Today is Monday, he was supposed to cook. He obviously didn't.

He must've been very tired. That explains why he fell asleep.

I go to my room and change into shorts and a camisole before entering the kitchen. I quickly make some mac-n-cheese and set the food on the countertop in some colourful plates.

Now the hardest part.

Waking up Drew.

Living with him for the past year has definitely taught me one thing.

Drew doesn't wake up easily.

So I do what I think will work.

I stand near him. Damn him and his cologne.

I take a glass of water and pour it over his face.

He jolts awake.

"Fire! Fire!" Drew shouts.

I smirk at him. I knew this trick will work.

"You!" Drew yells, pointing his finger at me.

"I made you food," I say, moving away from him.

That shut him up.

I slide the plate over to him. I hop on the countertop ( I usually eat sitting on top of the kitchen counter with my feet dangling, don't judge) and start munching my food.

"I was tired. Didn't feel like cooking."

"I figured."

We silently eat our food.

Suddenly I find Drew looking at my me. Um?

"What are you wearing?" he asks me.

"Clothes?" I say, confused at his words.

He smirks.

I love his smirk.

"Stupid," he mutters under his breath.

I really don't understand what he's trying to say.

"You look totally fuckable in these clothes."

I choke on the food I was eating. Did he seriously say that?

Oh my-

"Don't mind my words. I had a few drinks before you came home," he confesses.

They say, drunk minds speak the truth.

But I can't let him say things like these. I have to change the topic.

"You drank? Without me? Very bad, Drew," I tease him. He gets angry whenever I tease him. Hopefully that will change the mood.

"You called me Drew when I've told you to call me Andrew at all times."

He's back to his senses then. He never lets me call him Drew. He says it's reserved for 'family and friends' and I don't fall under that category, unfortunately.

"Sorry, Andrew," I apologise.

I finish my food and hop off the counter. I clean my plate and place it in the dishwasher.

When I turn around, I find Drew standing close to me. Woah, when did that happen?

"When did you get here?" I ask him.

"Doesn't matter. You complained that I didn't drink with you. Let's drink together then."

What? Are my ears working properly or am I just hearing things?

"I'll bring the bottle and glasses," he says and leaves me in the kitchen to bring the stuff.

What the fuck is happening?

I clean his plate and put it in the dishwasher while he comes back into the kitchen and prepares our drinks.

I sit by the table and start drinking.

"Who are you and what did you do to Andrew?" I question.

"You know what? Call me Drew. It sounds sexy coming from your lips."

Shit.

I don't answer him.

"When was the last time you had sex?" He asks.

He's just drunk. He doesn't know what he's saying.

I'll just answer him, finish my drink, go upstairs and sleep.

"Last Friday. With Chase."

His expression darkened.

"Lucky guy."

Okay. I don't know where this is going.

"When was your last time, Drew?"

"I haven't had it in a while. And I feel horny. But I'm not getting anyone."

Damn.

"Why are we talking about sex, Drew?"

"I don't know. I told you I feel horny. And it doesn't help that you look hot as fuck."

"Drew..."

"No, don't say my name like that. It's doing weird things to me."

This can't be happening. No. Someone pinch me. This has to be a dream.

I didn't notice it but he's standing in front of me. He takes the glass from my hands and keeps it aside.

He pulls me up from the chair towards him.

He shouldn't be doing this. This is not correct. He won't remember a thing in the morning and it would kill me if he forgets.

"Drew, don't."

-

Song: Dangerous Woman by Ariana Grande.

next update: Ruined||h.s (twenty-four)