CHAPTER 44: CHAPTER-44. (WHO IS THIS CAROLINE?).

My mouth went dry. Great. Fantastic. My own dumb words had shoved me into a corner I could not get out of.

Dave’s eyes stayed with me, patiently, steadily, like he was just waiting for me to stop being a coward. Which, hello, unfair.

People like me needed at least seven working days’ notice before spilling our disasters.

"With what?" he asked again, somehow his tone softened this time.

I looked down at my noodles as if they could save me. Sadly, they couldn’t.

They looked soggy now. Deflated. Honestly, same.

Should I actually tell him about Caroline’s blackmailer? That I need him to confirm my suspicion?

No, no, and no. I cannot just tell him like that. Moreover, it was Caroline’s secret to tell, not mine.

While my logical side was encouraging me to keep it a secret, on the other hand, I knew that taking Dave’s help would increase the speed of interrogation.

It was not the only reason. If the blackmailer was who I suspect, then I can barely touch him.

Though my family was not in the middle class section. While my family was influential, it was not compared to that blackmailer’s status.

Only a man like Dave with influence ultra pro max could help us neutralize that threat.

Unknowingly, I started to bite my lips in anxiety. I could not help it, as it was a bad habit that I gained in my childhood.

Crying was considered a weak trait in our circle.

So, to hide my tears, my body developed this habit of mine. Sometimes, I even used to chew on my lips until they were chapped and bleeding.

I was still chewing on them when something stopped my teeth from chewing.

My whole body jerked as my eyes landed on a thumb that was now caressing my half-dried and chapped lips.

My eyes went up to the size of a saucer pan, realizing Dave’s hand held my face while the rough pad of his thumb kept tracing the lines of my lips.

"You never listen to me. Do you?" Sweet Jesus, did he just pull a rizz on me?

Oh. Oh no.

My brain decided to go completely blank at the exact moment I needed it most.

Like, thanks a lot, useless neurons. All I could register was the heat of his hand against my cheek and that stupidly steady thumb making tiny circles on my lips like it owned the place.

Which...excuse me....what was happening right now?

"You... you can’t just...." I stammered, except my voice didn’t even make it past a whisper.

My body, traitorous thing that it was, leaned into his touch like it had been waiting its whole tragic life for this exact scene.

Dave tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing just enough to make me feel stripped of every flimsy excuse I was hiding behind. "You bite them raw. Every time you’re drowning in your head, you hurt yourself instead of asking for help."

Wow. Okay. Rude. Why was he suddenly auditioning for therapist-slash-knight-in-shining-armor? Because, newsflash, I did not sign up for this vulnerable exposure package.

"I’m fine," I croaked, which was such an obvious lie it could’ve been printed on a neon sign.

His thumb paused, pressed just enough to remind me he wasn’t buying my nonsense. "You’re not. And you know it."

My stomach did an Olympic-level flip. Part of me wanted to slap his hand away and scream at him to stop seeing me so clearly.

The other part...ugh, the worst part....wanted to just collapse right there into his chest and tell him everything, from Caroline’s blackmailer to my own spiraling mess of fear.

Instead, I sat frozen. Noodles forgotten. Pride shriveling. Lips still trapped under the weight of his touch.

And all I managed to say was, "You really need to stop doing that."

His mouth twitched, like he was fighting a smile. "Doing what?"

"Acting like you know me better than I do."

That smile broke free, slow and devastating. "Maybe I do."

Okay. Nope. Absolutely not. Someone needed to call the fire department, because I was officially combusting.

***

So, at last, I told him everything. About Caroline, that’s how she went to a club where Jack sh*t got her drink spiked and took pictures of her.

Also, how someone is blackmailing her with those pictures. I also included the part where I described the man in those pictures and how I suspect who that man could be.

After endless talking for a few minutes, I finally stopped taking in some long, deep breaths. I continued to get as much oxygen as until Dave opened his mouth and asked, "I got everything, but tell me who is this Caroline?"

I blinked twice, my brain stuttering like a Windows XP computer on its last legs.

Who is this Caroline?

"You’re kidding," I said flatly.

Dave didn’t even flinch. "No. Should I know her?"

My mouth dropped open. "Uh, yes? I’ve literally talked about her a million times. Caroline....my best friend, the human hurricane I keep warning you about, the one who nearly broke her ankle at my cousin’s wedding trying to outdance the DJ’s playlist? Ringing any bells?"

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing in thought. Nothing. Blank slate.

"Oh my god." I groaned, dragging my hands down my face. "You seriously don’t listen to half of what I say, do you? I bring her up all the time! She’s practically an honorary side character in my tragic monologues."

Dave’s mouth twitched, annoyingly close to a smile. "I listen. I just... filter."

"Filter?!" My voice went up an octave. "She’s not spam mail, Dave! She’s my best friend. And right now, she’s in the kind of trouble that makes all my past drama look like kindergarten recess."

Before he could answer, I yanked my phone out like it was Exhibit A in a court trial. "Here. Proof. Look."

I shoved the screen toward him, flicking through a mess of photos....Caroline in a neon dress holding two milkshakes, Caroline with eyeliner so sharp it could slice bread, Caroline and me squished together at a photo booth, grinning like lunatics.

Dave leaned closer, his shoulder brushing mine as his gaze scanned the screen. "That’s her?"

"Obviously!" I snapped, though my throat tightened when he didn’t pull away, his attention way too focused.

His eyes lingered on one picture where Caroline had her arm around me, both of us mid-laugh. Something unreadable flickered across his face before he finally leaned back.

The humor was gone, replaced with that calm, unnerving intensity of his.

"Okay," he said slowly, voice dipping into that low Serious Mode that made my spine do uncomfortable flips. "I will look into it and will let you know."

My phone felt heavy in my hand. The noodles were long and cold. And suddenly, the air between us wasn’t just heavy...it was electric.