CHAPTER 184: CHAPTER 184: CONDOMS SCATTERED ON THE FLOOR

The busy tone of the hung-up phone echoed, and Jean Ellison held her phone, stunned for a few seconds.

It was as if all her strength had been drained from her, and she slumped off the barstool, sitting directly on the cold wooden floor.

Ignoring the glances from those around her, she buried her head in her knees and started to sob.

At first, her cries were suppressed, but gradually she let go.

The man in the floral shirt, who had initially given up on hitting on her, was at a loss when he saw her like this. He came over, squatting beside her, scratching his head.

"Hey, beautiful, don’t cry. I haven’t even done anything to you yet, so why are you crying? People might think I did something to you."

Jean didn’t pay him any mind, immersing herself in her sadness.

She cried while mumbling intermittently, her voice unclear. But the man was close enough to barely hear some of it.

"He just thinks I’m fat, that I’m a useless rich kid who only spends money and has no skills at all."

"I can’t even take care of myself. Even in college, I have to bring lunch made by the family servant. It’s so embarrassing."

"I weigh 160 pounds. I’m fatter than... than any girl at school. They all call me fatso."

"I forced him to be with me, using my family’s money and power. He doesn’t actually like me."

"I’m so disliked; he doesn’t like me; it’s... it’s my own fault."

"But why, why..."

"I love him so much. I’ve given him everything I could, yet he has no feelings for me. How can his heart be so cruel?"

She spoke incoherently, fueled by the alcohol, pouring out the grievances she had stored for years.

The man in the floral shirt initially found it inexplicable, but as he listened, his expression gradually changed.

He looked at the woman trembling as she cried. Although he didn’t know the specifics of what she was talking about, he was too familiar with the feeling of having one’s true heart trampled ruthlessly.

He thought of his ex-girlfriend, the woman he had treated with all his heart,

who eventually ran off with some wealthy guy driving a sports car, disparaging him for being poor and unsuccessful when they broke up.

He, too, had felt this same pain and unwillingness back then.

Tears welled up in his eyes as well. He sniffed and sat down on the floor beside Jean, using his sleeve to wipe the corners of his eyes, his voice choked with emotion.

"Girl, don’t say anymore. I understand you. True heart for true heart, what a damn world we’re living in!"

"My ex-girlfriend also ran off with some rich old guy."

Jean, crying her heart out, sensed someone sitting down next to her, echoing her sentiments.

She lifted her tear-filled eyes and saw a stranger sitting beside her, wiping his tears. She was momentarily stunned.

She reached out clumsily to pat the man’s arm, her voice bold and slightly tipsy.

"You’re... you’re right, bro!"

"No looking back! Those heartless people are not worth it, not worth our true hearts."

The man felt even more moved by her gesture, nodding heavily in agreement.

"Yes, not worth it."

The scene in the bar was somewhat comical, a woman with smudged makeup and a flamboyantly dressed man sitting side by side on the floor beside the bar, patting each other’s arms and crying on each other’s shoulders.

The door suddenly burst open, a gust of cold wind rushing in.

Justin Holden stood at the entrance, his cold gaze sweeping across the bar, quickly locking onto the familiar figure sitting on the floor in the bar’s direction.

However, when he saw Jean’s current state clearly, the air around him froze instantly.

She was not only sitting on the ground but also sitting quite close to a stranger, who even had his arm around her shoulder, their heads resting against each other as if embracing.

Justin’s expression darkened, and with long strides, he quickly approached.

He didn’t even look at the man, bending down directly, reaching out to pull Jean from the ground.

The two people engrossed in their crying were interrupted.

The man in the floral shirt raised his head, seeing a tall man in a suit with a stern expression wanting to take away the girl he had just befriended. The alcohol kicked in.

He stood up abruptly, blocking in front of Jean, pointing at Justin’s nose, his voice loud.

"Who are you, and what do you want?"

Justin finally looked directly at the man, his gaze cold and disdainful, and said, "Move."

"I won’t!"

The man stiffened his neck, emboldened by the alcohol.

"So you’re the bastard who bullied this girl, right? Making her cry like this. I’m telling you, with me here, you won’t touch her again."

Justin’s patience ran out; he had no wish to argue with a drunkard.

He reached out directly, intending to push the man away.

The man, seeing this, thought Justin was going to make a move. Without thinking, he clenched his fist and swung it towards Justin’s face.

"Bastard, I’ll teach you not to mistreat women."

Justin hadn’t expected the man to directly make a move, taken by surprise as the fist grazed the side of his cheek, leaving a burning pain.

He let out a muffled grunt, turning his head abruptly, his gaze fierce and sharp, staring at the man who had made the move.

The man, intimidated by Justin’s murderous glare, sobered up quite a bit.

He looked at Justin’s cold face and taut jawline, retreating half a step subconsciously, losing all momentum, his lips trembling, not daring to utter another word.

This was not someone he could afford to offend; his presence was too overwhelming.

Justin ignored the cowardly man.

He wiped his aching cheek with the back of his hand and bent down again. This time, without any hindrance, he extended both arms and scooped the still-seated Jean off the ground horizontally.

Jean was confused, with tears still streaking her face.

Being suddenly lifted, she gasped, instinctively wrapping her arms around his neck.

She looked dazedly at Justin’s close profile, as if recognizing him, or perhaps not, only muttering something indistinctly, resting her flushed cheek against his cool shirt collar.

Justin’s body stiffened for a moment, but he did not push her away.

He held her, ignoring all the curious and surprised gazes in the bar, striding out with big steps.

The man in the floral shirt stood in a daze, staring at the empty doorway, touched the fist he had just used, and then his still chilled neck, muttering, "Damn, scared me to death."

Fortunately, he didn’t hold it against him; otherwise, his punch would be enough to land him in detention.

Justin carried Jean out of the bar, the cool night breeze making her shrink in his arms, but it did not quiet her down.

"Put me down, I won’t take the car."

Jean Ellison squirmed restlessly in his arms, heavily inebriated, complaining like a petulant child.

"I get carsick, it makes me want to throw up."

Justin Holden tried to get her into the passenger seat, but she clung stubbornly to the car door frame, refusing to go in.

Justin Holden looked at the woman in his arms, drunk and stubborn beyond reason, and sighed, finally relenting.

He bent down, adjusted his posture, and securely carried Jean onto his broad back.

"Alright, no car, we’ll walk back."

His voice was deep, carrying a hint of helplessness.

Jean lay quietly on his back, seemingly satisfied, calming down.

Her arms softly encircled his neck, her warm cheek pressed against the cool skin of his neck, her breath carrying a sweet scent of alcohol, brushing against his ear.

After a few steps, she seemed to recall something sad and began to mumble indistinctly on his back.

"Jerk, they’re all jerks."

Her voice was hoarse from crying.

"They lied to me, don’t want me anymore, just bully me."

Justin Holden silently carried her, steadily walking on the sidewalk.

The streetlights stretched their shadows long.

He knew that the jerk she referred to was most likely Jesse’s biological father, the man who got her pregnant before marriage and then vanished after she was imprisoned.

At this thought, his eyes darkened.

"Yes," he responded in alignment with her words, his voice deep, "he is indeed a jerk."

The Jean on his back seemed to hear his agreement, sniffled aggrievedly, humming with a nasal sound.

"Just a jerk..."

Justin turned his head slightly, feeling the softness of her hair against his cheek.

He softened his tone, not realizing it carried a hint of coaxing.

"Mm, let’s not think about him anymore, okay?"

Jean didn’t answer, whether she didn’t hear or had drifted back into a daze.

She lay quietly, only the even sound of her breathing showed she was still there.

Justin Holden carried her, feeling the warmth and softness against his back, a sensation that made his heart itch.

He had to admit that even in this drunken and disheveled state, Jean lay on his back, still appearing endearing to him.

Her defenseless dependence, the flushed side of her face, her slightly pouted lips seemed extremely sensual and charming to him.

His Adam’s apple involuntarily moved, suppressing the restlessness and impulses in his chest, forcing himself to look away and focus on the road beneath his feet.

Finally, they returned to Jean’s apartment.

He used the key from her bag to open the door, carrying her into the bedroom, gently placing her on the bed.

Jean sighed in comfort as soon as she touched the soft bedding, curling up.

Justin Holden stood by the bed, noticing she was still wearing her outdoor clothes while lying on the bed, he frowned slightly.

He hesitated for a moment, eventually bending down, reaching to unbutton her coat.

His movements were somewhat stiff, his fingers inevitably brushing against her warm skin at her neck or collarbone, each touch sending tiny electric currents through his body, making his fingertips tingle.

He tried to rid himself of distractions, helping her remove her coat and shoes, and then fetched a clean set of pajamas from her wardrobe.

This entire process was extremely tormenting for him.

Her body, soft and weak from drunkenness, was barely cooperative, occasionally letting out vague murmurs unconsciously.

It was truly testing his self-control.

After finally managing to change her into pajamas, a fine layer of sweat had formed on his forehead.

He went to the bathroom, got a warm towel, and came back, sitting on the bed to gently clean her face and neck.

The warmth of the towel seemed to comfort Jean, she nuzzled against his hand like a cat being stroked.

Just as Justin was about to leave to put the towel away, a cool hand suddenly grasped his wrist.

The small hand was soft yet persistent.

Justin Holden paused, looking down.

Jean, at some point, had opened her eyes, her beautiful gaze layered with a drunken shimmer, looking at him, trying to recognize who he was.

"Don’t go..."

Her voice was soft and pleading.

Justin Holden felt as though something lightly struck his heart.

He leaned closer, exposing his face to the soft glow of the bedside lamp, his voice low.

"Jean, look carefully, who am I?"

Jean blinked her sleepy eyes, focusing for a long time before slowly, with a tone of confirmation, said.

"...Justin Holden."

These three words slipped from her slightly intoxicated lips.

Justin Holden’s gaze was deeper than the night itself.

He looked at her face, so close, her flushed cheeks, her eyes shimmering like water, her slightly parted pink lips.

He no longer hesitated, leaning down, capturing her slightly parted lips with his.

At the moment their lips met, both of them shuddered slightly.

Her lips were as soft as cotton candy, sweet despite the alcohol.

Jean did not push him away.

At the moment he kissed her, the hand originally clutching his wrist moved voluntarily upward, her soft arm encircling his neck, responding to the kiss clumsily.

He deepened the kiss, almost to the point of roughness, making it hard for her to breathe.

One hand propped beside her, the other caressing her cheek, the slightly warm pads of his fingers stroking her flushed skin.

The rapid breathing and the intimate sounds of lips and teeth mingled for a long time, one condom after another was connected, thrown to the floor, until the day broke.