Johnny & I : The Island by Daria Paus (hardest books to read txt) 📕

sat a sofa, so nice and warm I had to keep myself from running straight up to it. I wrapped my arms around myself to keep my body from shaking.

Then I finally glanced up at the man. He was taller than my five-foot-three, but not too tall. The first thing I saw in the dim light was his hair, dark and messy, almost touching his shoulders. He's hot, the little voice whispered in my mind, and I scoffed. Judging by what? His hair? I tried to shake the sudden need to touch said hair and forced my eyes to continue their path down his body.

He wore a simple black t-shirt and loose-fitted jeans. Around his neck hung a scarf that reached almost down to his waist.

Letting my eyes travel back up his body to his face, I tried to get a better look at him. As I studied his shadow-ridden features I realized I hadn't introduced myself. Neither had he, and I got the impression he felt as uncomfortable as I did. I flashed him a nervous smile then opened my mouth to speak.

"I'm Brianna, by the way. But you can call me Bree.”

My voice seemed to snap him out of whatever thought he’d been lost in.

"Johnny," he said.

I could smell alcohol on his breath, and his voice was flat and clipped—as if saying his name was something he preferred not to do.

Hearing the name, my mind immediately projected an image of one special Johnny Grey. Hollywood’s hottest actor who I was secretly in love with, and for a short moment I lost myself in the thought. Then I remembered where I was, and snapped out of it, returning my focus to the man in front of me.

He didn’t return my smile and muttered something I couldn’t hear. The message was clear—I wasn’t welcome. I shifted my weight from one leg to the other, silently screaming at him to do something. Why was he just standing there?

The seconds dragged by and the silence started to creep me out. I stared at him intently, hoping he would get the point. I was waiting here—a wet and shivering girl on his shiny marble floor. Still, he just stared at me as if he saw straight through me.

“Uhm,” I began. “I’m still here.”

He ran a hand through his hair, and for a moment he seemed so confused I wanted to shake him in frustration. My sudden appearance had caught him off guard, but how hard could it be to show a little courtesy?

“Yeah,” he mumbled.

“I’m just goin' to stand here?” I added, not at all regretting the bitchy tone. What an asshole. 

“Sorry,” he said. "Let me get you a blanket."

As I stared down the corridor he’d disappeared into, a feeling came over me. The way he looked: the hair, the clothes . . . he did seem somewhat familiar, didn’t he? And that voice . . . that name.

Don't be stupid, my inner voice snapped. There's a lot of people with that name, it doesn't mean anythin'. Still, I couldn't shake the newfound feeling of nervousness.

The man came back after what felt like an eternity, carrying a blanket as he’d promised.

He placed it around my shoulders, expecting me to take it. I couldn't move.

"Are you all right?"

I managed a stiff nod. As he entered the hallway, he'd switched on a lamp, but I knew before even looking at his face who this man was. Slowly I turned my head. What are the odds? I found myself thinking. Of all the islands to be washed ashore on, I ended up on HIS.

My eyes landed on his face and all I could do was stare, wide-eyed, with my mouth hanging open.

He turned an expressionless face toward me. Clearly, he was not surprised by my sudden reaction, and why would he be?

His voice was nothing more than a tired sigh. "Come on." He placed an arm around my shoulders.I followed as if in a trance as he led me down the hallway. Turning left at the end of it he pushed open a door before guiding me into a bathroom that was bigger than a small apartment.

Leaving me standing there, he disappeared again. I heard him in a room close by. He quickly returned carrying a bundle of clothes which he placed on a stool. He pressed a few buttons on what looked like a small pool embedded in the floor, and soon the water started pouring in, filling it with steaming hot bubbles.

"Here.” He gestured toward the tub, “Take a warm bath, get into some dry clothes, then come out when you're ready."

With that said, he left and closed the door behind him. I stared at the water in shock. 

You're dead, you're obviously dead, the inner voice suggested. Maybe it was right? Maybe I had drowned and this was heaven? That would somehow seem more logical . . . My eyes scanned the surroundings, landing on the little pile of clothes Johnny had left on the stool.

I finally managed to move. Wriggling out of my black sundress, I let it fall to the floor before quickly sliding into the bath. Throwing multiple quick glances at the closed door, I worried about him coming back. Maybe I should've locked it, even though it wasn't my door to lock. I was a guest. A very unwelcome guest, my inner voice added dryly.

The hot water relaxed my sore muscles and slowed down my pulse enough for me to enjoy the feel of the warmth against my cold skin. As I lay there, my thoughts started to wander and I was once again stunned. If anyone had told me I would end up on Johnny Grey’s private island, I would have laughed. Even more unbelievable—I was alone on said island, with him. HIM, my all-time favorite actor, and let’s admit—the sexiest man alive. It was too crazy to be true. I couldn't wrap my mind around this. I'd seen him, stared at him. I'd heard his voice as he’d