Johan POV

“Jo, calm down.”

Tonfah’s voice came low beside me, firm but not unkind. His hand touched my arm, a light nudge as if that would be enough to stop the slow, merciless burn rolling through my veins.

“You’ve already drunk a lot,” he added cautiously, like he wasn’t sure whether I’d shove him off or not.

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. The alcohol did nothing. The burn in my throat was distant, drowned out by something far more volatile. Rage, confusion, disappointment—every feeling I’d spent years learning how to suppress, now surging like an undertow beneath my skin.

“Jo—” Hill started, hesitant, standing just to my right.

He didn’t finish the sentence. Didn’t need to.

I knew what they were all thinking.

But the only thing I could focus on was the image still imprinted in my mind. Him. His stupid, reckless grin. The way he’d looked at me the last time we spoke. So casually devastating.

I downed another shot. Didn’t flinch.

Then, as if summoned by tension, Arthit swaggered over, as irritatingly smug as ever. He dropped a new bottle of whiskey onto the bar table between us with a loud clunk.

“Honestly, Jo,” he drawled, smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I don’t get it. I mean, yeah, what Nong did was kind of messed up—but you clearly said you don’t like him. So why the hell are you this pissed?”

I turned toward him slowly.

My eyes met his with such cold, deliberate fury that his smirk faltered for the first time that night.

He stepped back.

Smart.

My phone buzzed on the counter.

I didn’t need to check it. My body already knew who it was. Every nerve in me went taut like a wire pulled too tight.

But I looked anyway.

[Little Brat]

Phi pls let me explain
I never intended to hurt you
Yes it started with a dare but my feelings for you is very much real
Pls believe me phi
I— i will do anything to prove it to you
Phi please

I stared at the screen, heart hammering in a way I didn’t want to acknowledge.

The gall. The fucking gall.

My grip tightened until the edges of the phone dug into my palm. Then I slammed it face-down onto the counter, hard enough that the impact rang louder than the bass thudding from the speakers.

The screen went dark.

His name vanished.

But he was still there. Everywhere.

In the burn of the liquor.

In the back of my throat.

In the silence that followed.

Even Arthit didn’t speak after that. His mouth opened, then closed. For once, he seemed to understand he’d crossed a line.

Tonfah exchanged a glance with Hill, then looked back at me.

“Jo…” Hill said softly. “What Arthit asked… he’s not wrong.”

His tone was careful, probing, like he was defusing a bomb. “Have you… have you actually started liking Nong?”

I didn’t answer.

Couldn’t.

The truth clawed at the inside of my chest like something alive, something I’d tried—am still trying—to drown.

I leaned forward, elbows on the counter, trying to focus on anything other than the static rising in my skull. I didn’t want to feel this. I wasn’t built for this. Whatever this was.

The problem wasn’t their question.

The problem was that I’d been asking myself the same one over and over again for hours now.

Did I like him?

I remembered his voice cracking when he called me Phi.

The way he smiled when he thought I wasn’t looking.

The softness in his eyes when he sat beside me, too close, too familiar. Like I was something worth being gentle with.

And then I remembered the message.

“Yes it started with a dare…”

I laughed bitterly under my breath.

The kind of laugh that hurt.

Because the answer wasn’t no.

It was something far more dangerous.

It was fuck.

It was yes.

It was too late.

And worst of all?

I couldn’t even figure out if I hated him more for making me feel this way.

Or if I hated myself for letting it happen.

My fists clenched. My jaw locked.

“Jo,” Tonfah said again, gentler this time. “Talk to us. You’ve been holding this in for too long.”

“I said I don’t like him,” I muttered, voice rough.

“Yeah?” Arthit said, though it wasn’t sarcastic this time. “Then why does it look like you’re about to break something just because he texted you?”

I shot him a look, and he wisely shut up.

Hill leaned in a little closer. “Jo. Look. I know you. You don’t get this angry over things you don’t care about. And you don’t spiral like this unless someone’s gotten under your skin.”

I didn’t respond. Just stared ahead at the dim, golden liquid in the bottom of my glass.

Under my skin.

North had gotten under my skin the very first time he confessed to me like he meant it.

The very first time he poked at me like I wasn’t made of knives.

He smiled like he wanted to get cut.

And I let him.

Piece by piece.

Smile by smile.

God, I was such a fool.

“He lied,” I muttered, finally. “He fucking lied to my face.”

“Yeah,” Hill said softly. “But he also begged for you to believe him. That means something.”

“He shouldn’t have started it at all.”

“No,” Tonfah said, “he shouldn’t have. But you’re not angry just because it was a dare, Jo.”

I looked up.

“You’re angry because it wasn’t just a dare anymore.”

Silence fell again. It rang in my ears louder than anything else.

I stood abruptly, chair scraping against the floor. My heart was a wild thing in my chest.

“I need air.”

They didn’t stop me.

I stepped out into the night, the cool air hitting my face like a slap. It did nothing to clear my head.

I closed my eyes and leaned back against the railing, letting the ache throb quietly under my skin.

He made me feel too much.

And I didn’t know how to undo it.

Didn’t know if I wanted to.

But I did know one thing:

If he showed up now—messy hair, pleading eyes, that ridiculous voice calling me phi—

I wouldn’t be able to push him away.

Not anymore.

And that terrified me more than anything else.