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

speak. I tried again and finally managed to whisper. ”You’re okay with this . . . me?”

He nodded, patting the space next to him on the sofa. Following his every movement with my eyes, they stopped on the well-known tattoo on his lower arm. The anchor with a rope curling around it. I had seen it in millions of pictures, but never had I imagined actually seeing it for real. I gulped, trying to ignore the tingling in my body and my racing heart.

"I guess I could use some company.”

Judging from his flat voice and the somber look on his face, I wasn't convinced he’d told me the truth.

I forced my shaking legs to take me to the sofa. “Thank you."

He studied my face and I tried to remember how to breathe. I hoped that he liked what he saw. Normally people considered me pretty; I'd heard plenty say it. What they saw in me that was so appealing, I didn't know. The hair, yes, I could understand that, but hair alone didn't make one beautiful. I was certain there was more to it than that. And now when I needed it the most, not even the hair could be worth looking at. Maybe the heart-shaped face with a slight spray of freckles over my nose and cheekbones, or the green eyes added some beauty to my otherwise pale complexion. I hoped so since it was all I had to offer him at the moment. My natural beauty, at its worst.

“Whiskey?”

The question provided a much needed relief to my anxiety.

“Sure.” I would’ve preferred wine, but at this moment I was sure I needed something stronger. Just sitting there, stealing glances at him was enough to make me tremble. Those high cheekbones and that sharp jawline was so much sexier in real life. I wondered if he noticed what being this close to him did to me. But then again, I was sure the almost-faint-spell I had thrown just minutes ago had informed him of that.

I took the glass he offered me without dropping it or spilling its contents, and gulped it down immediately.

This was going to be a long night.

2

Broken

After a few shots, the nervousness was manageable. Johnny’s silence confused me. I’d been convinced I knew him. I’d seen every talk show, every interview, and this was not the Johnny I was used to listening to. What had happened to those flippant comments? The carefree attitude, and the jokes that had a whole crowd laughing. Even his sexy smile was absent, and I didn’t know if I’d ever seen him in public without one plastered to his face. As I studied him, I couldn’t help but wonder if all of that had been nothing but another act. Was he, in real life, someone completely different?

He looked troubled, and the dark eyes that occasionally gazed at me not only made me shiver, but also filled me with a sadness I couldn’t explain.

He’d seemed so unaffected on TV. So nonchalant, as if the accusations didn’t bother him at all.

But seeing him now—that lost look on his face, and the empty bottles on the table—I started to suspect that he was doing far worse than what he was willing to share with his fans. Alone, with nothing but the storm and . . . me, as company, it seemed like he no longer had the strength to pretend.

“You look sad.” The moment the words left my mouth I regretted them. Heat rushed to my cheeks and I knew they had turned bright red.

He scoffed, shaking his head. “Is it that obvious?”

I swallowed down a lump of nervousness, and whispered a small, “Yeah.”

When he didn’t offer anything else, I heard myself say, “Wanna talk about it?”

Really? My inner voice asked. How can you even ask such a thing?

“No.”

“But—"

“No.”

“I haven’t even said anythin’.”

He actually chuckled then.

“It’s still a no.” He changed the topic. “Where were you heading?”

It took me a while to understand that he was referring to the boat, and I shuddered as I thought of the accident. I still didn’t understand how the weather had so suddenly changed from a beautiful calm day at sea to a living gale.

“Dolphin sightseein’, gone bad,” I said with a grimace. The storm had come out of nowhere and within a few minutes, whipped up the sea into a frenzy. The waves had been so powerful that the small tourist boat hadn't had a chance.

“What happened to her?”

“Who?”

“The boat.”

“Oh.” I flashed him a nervous smile. I should have picked that up. “Gone,” I said. “I think no one else survived. They were—" My voice broke, and I didn’t bother to continue. I didn’t want to think of it anymore. Without my nautical skills, I wouldn’t have made it out alive. I had my dad, and my grandpa, to thank. Even though I missed them, being on the other side of the world, I still felt the connection every time I gazed out over the horizon.

“I’m sorry.” Johnny’s voice was surprisingly gentle. I looked at him, and for a moment his face softened as he gazed back at me. My heart skipped a beat and I forgot how to breathe again. It didn’t matter that my senses were numbed by the whiskey, he still had that effect on me.

“You were lucky to end up here.”

“Yeah.” No shit, my mind was quick to add. I still couldn’t believe I was really here.

“What about you?” I asked. “Why are you here in the middle of a storm?”

He frowned, biting his lower lip as he seemed to consider my question.

“I live here,” he finally said.

I couldn’t help but snort. There was a small amount of truth in that statement, but certainly not the full truth. He owned the freaking island, that was common knowledge. Not any of his fans could’ve missed such detail, and just like me, dreamt of being swept away by the movie star to this little patch of paradise. But his presence