Forbidden Cravings
Chapter 122: A Day of a Chilly November

Chapter 122: A Day of a Chilly November

I was just about to twist the doorknob and step out when Jonathan’s voice cut through the air, stopping me dead in my tracks. "Ezra..."

"Hmm? Yeah?" I turned back, catching his eyes. They were heavy with something—concern, maybe, or just that look he gets when he’s about to dish out some unsolicited advice.

"Don’t be so stressed, man." His voice softened, and he leaned back against the worn-out couch, arms crossed. "Life’s supposed to be an adventure, you know?"

I raised an eyebrow, letting a smirk creep onto my face. "Oh, yeah, it is really adventurous. For sure and thrilling as well." My tone dripped with sarcasm, and I couldn’t help but chuckle.

Jonathan barked out a laugh, his head tipping back. "You motherfucker," he said, still grinning, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe me.

"Goodbye, you poet," I shot back, giving him a mock salute as I pushed the door open. It creaked shut behind me, muffling his laughter as I stepped out of Heaven’s Feel Brothel and into the sharp bite of late November air.

Back at the brothel, Jonathan was still sprawled on the couch, staring up at the cracked ceiling. The place was quiet now, just the faint hum of the radiator and the occasional creak of the old building settling. He let out a long sigh, running a hand through his messy hair. "That guy," he muttered, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Always running from one mess to another."

The sun was high, glaring down like it was trying to prove a point, but it was cold as hell. Everyone on the street was bundled up—scarves, coats, the works—looking like they were ready for a snowstorm, not just a chilly morning. I shoved my hands deeper into my pockets, cursing myself for not bringing my shirt yesterday night.

"Should’ve brought my damn shirt," I muttered, my breath puffing out in a little cloud.

My head was still spinning from the night—and morning—with Elizabeth. That woman was something else. Wild, relentless, the kind of person who could make you forget your own name for a few hours. My throat felt dry just thinking about it.

"Still thirsty," I grumbled to myself, my boots scuffing against the ground.

A sign board caught my eye a block down—a juice shop. Perfect. I pushed through the glass door, the bell above it jingling softly. Inside, it was warm, the air thick with the sweet smell of fruit and sugar. A few people were scattered around, sipping drinks at small tables.

I felt eyes on me the second I stepped in—mostly from a couple of girls at a corner table. Their gazes lingered, and I knew why. My arms, still toned from years of hitting the gym, strained against my tight shirt, and my long hair, tied loosely back, probably didn’t hurt either.

The menu was scrawled on a chalkboard above the cashier—a college-aged girl with a ponytail and a bored expression. "What can I get you?" she asked, barely looking up from her phone.

"Watermelon juice," I said, keeping it simple.

She nodded, tapping at the register. "That’s 10 bucks."

I handed over the cash, and she muttered, "Just a minute, sir," before giving the order inside the kitchen.

I leaned against the counter, taking my phone out of my pocket. The screen lit up, and there it was—me and Aeri, grinning like idiots in our wallpaper photo. Her arms were wrapped around my neck, her smile bright enough to light up a room.

I noticed the notification from her without wasting a second, I opened it.

*"Ezra, it’s Sara’s wedding today. Be at this address by 7 pm. DON’T be late 😊🔪"*

I chuckled, shaking my head. The smiley face paired with the knife emoji was peak Aeri—sweet but with a side of menace. "Feels more like a warning message." I muttered, smiling to myself. "Alright, Aeri, I’ll be there."

*Thap.* A sharp jolt hit my shoulder, and before I could react, a woman stumbled backward, hitting the ground with a soft thud. Her plastic cup of juice bounced once, then splattered across the floor, a bright pink mess pooling near her boots. The chatter in the juice shop went quiet for a split second, all eyes turning to us.

"Hey, you okay?" I crouched down, extending a hand to help her up. Her fingers were cold but soft as she grabbed hold, and I pulled her to her feet with a gentle pull.

"Yeah, yeah, I’m fine," she said, brushing off her skirt with quick, embarrassed swipes. "I’m so sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going—just barreled right into you." Her voice had a nervous edge, and she laughed lightly, her cheeks flushing pink to match the spilled juice.

"Nah, it’s cool," I said, giving her a reassuring nod and a half-smile. "I shouldn’t be standing in the middle of the shop like an idiot. My bad." I glanced down at the mess on the floor. "Damn, though, your juice is on the ground for ants to drink."

She sighed, pursing her lips as she stared at the puddle. "Yeah... guess I’ll just grab another one." Her tone was resigned, but there was a flicker of disappointment in her eyes.

"Don’t worry about it," I said, already stepping toward the counter. "You order, I’ll cover it."

Her eyes widened, and she waved her hands in front of her pushing away the idea. "No, no, it’s totally fine! You don’t have to do that."

"Come on, don’t be shy," I teased, leaning one elbow on the counter. "My shoulder’s the one that sent your drink flying. Least I can do is replace it."

She hesitated, her lips parting like she wanted to argue, but then her face softened, and a shy smile crept in. Her cheeks flushed a little deeper, and she gave a small nod. "Okay, fine. Thanks." She stepped up to the counter, brushing a strand of dark hair behind her ear, and ordered, "Uh, can I get another strawberry-mango juice? No ice, please."

The cashier slid the bill across the counter, and I handed over a few bucks. The woman turned to me. "Thank you," she said, dipping her head in a small, almost formal bow. "Really, that was super nice of you."

"No problem," I said, flashing a quick smile. "Just watch out for clumsy guys like me next time."

She laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Deal. I’ll keep my eyes peeled."

While the cashier got to work, I took a moment to actually look at her. She was about my age, early-twenties, maybe. Her outfit was bold—tight denim skirt that hugged her curves, knee-high black boots, and a fitted black tee under an open denim shirt. She look bold and stunning.

A faint whiff of vanilla hit me, and my chest tightened. It was the same perfume Aeri wore, that sweet, warm scent that always made me think of her. Something else about the woman’s style tugged at my memory, like I’d seen someone dressed like this before, but the thought slipped away before I could imagine it clearly.

The girls at the corner table were staring now, their eyes darting between me and her and I realized I’d been looking a little too long. *Ahem.* I cleared my throat and turned my gaze.

The hum of the juice shop settled back into its rhythm as the cashier, a young woman with a bright red apron, slid my watermelon juice across the counter.

"Here you go, sir," she said, her voice low and formal.

"Thanks," I said, flashing her a quick smile as I grabbed the drink. The straw crinkled as I popped it through the lid, and I took a sip, the sweet, cool juice hitting just right after the morning I’d had.

I turned back to the woman I’d bumped into, who was standing a few steps away. Her dark eyes flicked up to meet mine, and she gave a small, sheepish smile.

"Alright, well, I’m gonna head out," I said, nodding toward the door. "Have a nice day, yeah? And, uh, maybe walk a little slower next time." I grinned, keeping my tone light and teasing.

She laughed, a soft, genuine sound that made her nose crinkle. "Yeah, I’ll try," she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "You too, have a nice day." Her eyes sparkled with a playful glint, and I couldn’t help but chuckle.

Raising my cup in a mock toast. "Take care."

With that, I pushed through the glass door, the bell jingling overhead as I stepped back into the crisp November air. The sun was still bright, but the cold at my exposed arms.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket, Aeri’s message still open on the screen, and took another sip through the straw as I started down the sidewalk. My boots scuffed against the pavement, and I scrolled absentmindedly, half my brain still on the wedding I had to get to later.

Back inside the shop, the woman stood near the counter, her fingers wrapped tightly around her chest. She watched me through the glass door, her gaze lingering on my back as I walked away, casual and unbothered, the straw still in my mouth.

Her lips parted slightly, and she let out a soft *gulp*, her free hand drifting to her chest, pressing lightly against her denim shirt. Her heart gave a little thud, and she bit her lip, shaking her head like she was trying to snap herself out of something.

Outside, I didn’t notice. My phone buzzed with another message from Aeri, probably another not-so-subtle reminder about Sara’s wedding. I sighed, muttering to myself, "Yeah, yeah, I’m not gonna be late."