Chapter 12: Chapter 11
Throughout the afternoon, the image of Joanna Kennedy’s swollen, red ankle kept flashing through his mind.
When the bell rang for the last class of the day, students began to file out. After helping the teacher with some assignments, Simon Lockwood returned to the classroom to find Joanna Kennedy still there.
The classroom windows were open, and the fan was whirring overhead. Joanna Kennedy was asleep, slumped over her desk. A gentle breeze drifted in, stirring the strands of hair on her forehead.
Simon Lockwood pulled his gaze away, but his eyes subconsciously drifted to her ankle. The redness hadn’t faded; instead, it had started to bruise, standing out starkly against her fair skin.
She hadn’t put any medicine on it.
In the few seconds he was lost in thought, Joanna Kennedy woke up, her eyes meeting his gaze.
"Are you done?" Joanna Kennedy asked with a yawn, her eyes still misty with sleep.
Simon Lockwood instantly concealed whatever emotion was in his eyes, his expression turning cold again. "Yeah."
Still groggy, Joanna Kennedy trailed behind him like a little lost puppy. She walked right into his solid back, and her eyes instantly welled up with tears.
Simon Lockwood, who had stopped without her noticing, asked in a low voice, "Why are you following me?"
"For our date," Joanna Kennedy blurted out. The words left her mouth before she could stop them, and she felt a wave of embarrassment. She quickly tried to justify herself, "Couples are supposed to go on dates."
"You seem to know a lot."
"Of course I do." For some reason, Joanna Kennedy’s competitive streak flared up. "I told you before. A lot of guys like me."
"Heh." Simon Lockwood let out a strange, unreadable laugh. "Impressive."
Joanna Kennedy: "..."
’Don’t think I can’t hear the sarcasm in your voice.’
Simon Lockwood stood by the bus stop sign. In his peripheral vision, he saw Joanna Kennedy, tired of standing, squat down by his feet, looking like a small, huddled ball.
His fingertips, gripping his phone, paused for a moment. After a while, he unlocked the screen.
A few minutes later, a taxi pulled over to the side of the road. Joanna Kennedy glanced at it wistfully. ’If only that was here for me,’ she thought.
’Simon Lockwood is so poor and so stingy with me,’ she mused. ’He probably wouldn’t even be willing to pay the two-yuan bus fare for me, let alone call a cab.’
Joanna Kennedy lowered her head resentfully. ’I’m so noble, suffering like this for love.’
’That jerk Simon Lockwood!’
Just as she was internally cursing him out, the taxi door opened. Simon Lockwood walked over and held it open. Joanna Kennedy was still looking at the ground.
He frowned, his tone impatient. "Missy, what are you still doing squatting over there?"
Huh?
What?
Joanna Kennedy looked up. Her wish had come true. She shot up so quickly that she almost tumbled over, only barely managing to steady herself before scurrying into the car, as if afraid Simon Lockwood would change his mind.
Simon Lockwood inconspicuously lowered the hand he had slightly raised to help her, then got into the car as well.
During the ride, Joanna Kennedy chattered away, listing several perfect date spots she had just gotten from her friends.
Simon Lockwood kept his eyes closed, not saying a word.
When they got out of the car, Joanna Kennedy finally understood why he had been so calm.
The destination had already been set for the taxi.
Looking at the familiar place in front of them, her lips twitched. "You brought me here for a date?!"
Joanna Kennedy couldn’t believe Simon Lockwood had brought her to The Crimson Hall.
If it had been anyone else, she would have immediately assumed they had ulterior motives and were trying to take advantage of her.
’But if it’s Simon Lockwood... well, I can’t completely rule out that suspicion either!’
"You followed me here yourself. This is not a date," Simon Lockwood stated, refuting the very premise of her question.
’Fine, fine, my fault for being so shameless and clingy.’
Joanna Kennedy scrunched up her pretty face. "Then what are you doing here!"
Simon Lockwood: "Work."
Joanna Kennedy: "..."
She subconsciously glanced at the corner of Simon Lockwood’s mouth. The bruise had already faded, leaving no trace of the injury.
As if sensing her gaze, Simon Lockwood pressed his thumb against the corner of his lip.
Joanna Kennedy lost some of her bravado. "Well, why didn’t you tell me beforehand..."
"Would it have mattered?" Simon Lockwood shot her a look, the meaning clear: ’And you wouldn’t have followed me if I had?’
Joanna Kennedy was speechless. It was true; Simon Lockwood had her figured out completely.
Even if Simon Lockwood had told her, she would have come anyway.
’My whole persona right now is that of a shameless, clingy stray.’
Simon Lockwood went inside to change his clothes. The hotel manager happened to come over to pick up a report and was startled to see Joanna Kennedy sitting on the sofa. "Miss Kennedy, what are you doing sitting here? Let me check Young Master Pemberton’s private room number for you..."
He assumed Joanna Kennedy was there to see Paul Pemberton.
Joanna Kennedy, whose eyes kept darting toward the employee break room, shook her head without much interest. "No need."
The manager couldn’t make sense of the situation and was about to ask more.
But Joanna Kennedy, who had been listless just a moment ago, suddenly brightened, a smile spreading across her face. "Simon Lockwood."
Following Joanna Kennedy’s gaze, he saw none other than the handsome and aloof Simon Lockwood.
Dressed in a white shirt and black trousers, he had shed some of his youthful immaturity, standing tall and straight like a poplar tree.
The manager’s eyes widened. He looked at Joanna Kennedy, then at Simon Lockwood, and whispered, "What’s going on here?"
Simon Lockwood paused in the middle of rolling up his cuffs. "It’s nothing. Just pretend she’s not here."
Manager: "..."
’Pretend she’s not here?! Who do you think she is, just some random person?’
"Don’t you forget how you got that beating the other day," the manager reminded him through gritted teeth.
He’d worked in this club for years and had seen plenty of people get tangled up in love, but he never expected someone as cold and detached as Simon Lockwood to lose his head like this.
"...I haven’t forgotten."
Unexpectedly, Simon Lockwood’s reply was devoid of any emotion.
The manager didn’t want to meddle. He gave a few more instructions and left.
During the two hours Simon Lockwood worked, Joanna Kennedy ate three plates of fruit and had takeout delivered to the hotel twice.
She was a picky eater. After two bites of her crab roe noodles, she declared them too rich and tried to force them on Simon Lockwood.
When Simon Lockwood ignored her, she deliberately threatened to file a complaint.
The third time she said, "If you don’t eat this, I’ll have your manager fire you,"
Simon Lockwood’s face darkened. He picked up the now-cool crab roe noodles with his chopsticks and ate them with a blank expression. His movements were quick and mechanical, as if he were just scarfing down a plain bun.
He was simply completing a task.
Once that started, the rest went much more smoothly.
Blueberries, cherry tomatoes, chicken congee—whatever Joanna Kennedy offered him, he ate.
At some point, Joanna Kennedy dozed off. When she woke up, Simon Lockwood was gone. She was just about to ask someone where he was when she saw him walk in from outside. He had already changed out of his work clothes and was carrying a plastic bag.
Noticing her gaze, Simon Lockwood shifted the plastic bag behind his back.
"Your shift is over. Why didn’t you wake me?" Joanna Kennedy complained, not noticing his subtle movement.
Simon Lockwood’s tone was flat. "I forgot."
’Forgot?! How could you forget that? Why don’t you forget your own head while you’re at it!’
’Am I, a whole living person, really that unmemorable?!’
The frustration Joanna Kennedy had been bottling up all day finally overflowed. She stormed ahead, not caring whether Simon Lockwood was following her.
’He’s definitely not following,’ she thought. ’Simon Lockwood probably can’t wait for me to leave.’
Joanna Kennedy felt discouraged, wronged, and disappointed. A dry, yellow sycamore leaf fell onto the street, and she stomped on it to vent her frustration.
It wasn’t enough. She was about to stomp on it again when a familiar, cold voice sounded from behind her. "What did that leaf ever do to you?"
