Chapter 17 Not in Love, Just Excited
June
"And he laughed—like, really laughed. I’ve never seen him like that." I pause, feeling my cheeks already burning again. Just remembering makes me blush, every single time.
"So… you and the CEO are friends now?" Kayla raises a brow.
"He calls you at night to sort files, you went to the bathroom to ‘refresh’”—” she uses air quotes—“and screamed over a cockroach you saw?"
I roll my eyes, hands flailing like I’m trying to swat the memory away "Yes! And like some knight in shining armor, he came rushing in. Asked what was wrong, tried to kill it, and I begged him not to."
A short laugh escapes me. "And then… he burst out laughing. Like full-on laughing. I couldn’t believe it."
Leila doesn’t say anything. She just keeps staring.
"What?" I flail my hands with a nervous laugh. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
She shifts on the couch, crossing one leg over the other.
"You’re doing it again."
I blink, confused. "Doing what again?"
Kayla starts scribbling dramatically in the air.
"The thing you do when you have a… you know… crush on someone."
She grins. "Which is wild, because I’m pretty sure you already slept wi—"
"Ouch!" she yelps, rubbing the arm Leila just smacked.
"Stop talking, Kay." Leila says it calmly, like a mom putting out a cigarette.
My mouth opens slightly as I stare at both of them.
A… crush?
Do I have a crush on Mr. Grande?
I thought I was just… happy. Excited infact. Because he finally smiled at me. Said my name, and we shared a moment, and he laughed. He laughed.
Is that to be regarded as a crush?
They think I have a crush on him. Even after I purposely left out the main gist:
My dress that night, me jumping on him, falling flat into his chest, relieving myself in that bathroom stall with thoughts of him.
Imagining his cock is poking my—
Never mind.
If I told them everything entirely, they wouldn’t say it’s a crush.
They’d say I’m madly and sexually obsessed with my boss.
But that’s not it. That’s not what this is.
I turn to Leila, about to say something—to clarify, maybe—but she beats me to it.
"So that’s all? What about the reason he called you in the first place? The files that needed sorting? Did you guys get to finish?"
I open my mouth, then pause.
"Uhm—yes. Although we didn’t exactly finish. Mr. Grande said it was already late, so I came home."
Shit. Another lie. I gueess I have to keep concealing parts before they really get the wrong idea.
Mr. Grande did say it was getting late. But after we left the company, he drove me home.
And by God, It was the most tense car ride of my entire life.
Yes, everyone. It happened. The seatbelt moment. It finally happened to me.
And no, it wasn’t how I imagined it, It was worse, and better, and then worse again.
It started when I reached for the back door out of habit—because of course I did, I’m not used to CEOs driving interns around like it’s Uber X.
But then—
I hear a soft chuckle. It was low, and barely there, as if a secret tucked in a smile.
"I'm the one driving, June."
My name.
Why does it sound like that in his mouth?
It’s not just the deepness of his voice or the calm steel it always carries—it’s something else. The way he says it like it belongs to him.
God. Why does that do things to me?
I blinked, played it cool. "Right. Sorry, sir," I said, laughing it off like I wasn’t glitching inside.
I slid into the front seat, stupidly aware of how close we were. The air between us felt different, and tight. Like it was holding its breath with me.
The car started, and silence settled. Not awkward kind, just thick. Honey-like, or tension, or the space between almost and definitely.
I kept sneaking glances at him.
At his hand on the wheel, his wrist, his watch. The way his profile caught the city light.
Why is he so composed? Why do I feel like I’m sitting next to a storm in a black unforgivably partly-opened shirt.
Then, halfway through the drive, he looked at me.
Not a quick glance, a full ass pause. Eyes on me. His gaze, flickers over to me and stays there. It was heavy and quiet, like he's thinking too hard about something.
I glance at him. He doesn’t look away, and my throat tightens.
Maybe this is it. He’s finally going to say something. That something. Maybe he’s going to bring up that night. Maybe he’s going to—
Maybe he’s going to kiss me.
Like in those slow-burn dramas. The silence between us is a confession waiting to spill.
I suck in a slow breath, my chest rising. My lashes flutter partly low, just enough to blur him at the edges.
He leans in.
Oh my God, is this—?
His face moves closer, my heart punches my ribs, and my mouth parts.
I can feel his breath now. It's warm, hot, clean. A hint of bergamot.
Suddenly in my head, the car slowed, and the city lights blurred. I think I forgot to breathe.
His hand brushed against my collarbone. His knuckles grazed the side of my breast—not intentionally, but tell that to my heart. It did an Olympic-level somersault and disqualified me from rational thinking.
I was paralyzed. He was so close I could see the tension in his jaw, the slight flare in his nostrils, the way his eyelashes curled at the ends—who even notices that?
Me. I do.
Because I was watching him like he was about to detonate.
And then… click.
That damn buckle.
He didn’t look at me, not even a glance, just shifted back in his seat and kept driving like I wasn’t moments away from spontaneous combustion.
Not a word, not even "there."
I spent the rest of the ride staring out the window like a ghost. Like some haunted K-drama girl who just got I-don't-know-what-to-call-it-zoned by the CEO who rearranged her atoms with a seatbelt.
By the time we reached my street, I didn’t even say goodbye. I just mumbled something that could pass for thanks, and bolted out like the car was about to explode.
"Come on, girls," I say, standing with my hands on my waist. "I think you're both overreacting."
I exhale, trying to find the words. "If you worked with Mr. Grande—in his office, as his secretary—you’d understand. Any good interaction, no matter how small, feels like a true win."
I pause, fingers curling slightly at my side. "For a whole week, I’ve been walking on eggshells around him. Because of that night."
My nose scrunches, my brows pull together.
"I thought he saw me as a… slut."
I shut my eyes.
"Don't say that," Leila snaps, immediately jumping to her feet.
"It was mutual," she adds firmly. "If you’re a slut, then he is too."
"Exactly," Kayla chimes lazily in from the couch.
I open my eyes and smile softly, reaching for Leila’s hand. "That’s the thing. I think I finally get it now. He doesn’t see me that way. He’s not as heartless as I thought."
Leila smiles back and gives my hand a gentle squeeze.
"I think I’ve cracked the code," announce, trying to sound breezy. "So—I’m not in love, or crushing, or anything sappy," I roll my eyes teasingly. "I’m just basking in the excitement, okay?"
They stare.
"I’m serious! I don’t think he even remembers that night anymore. I think he’s silently saying, Let’s put that behind us and act normal and professional. And I should, too," I finish, like it’s some great epiphany.
Kayla snorts. "Okay, but have you though? You’ve been gisting us about the CEO of pussy all weekend. I don’t think he’s the problem. I think you are."
"Ugh! Kayla, you never understand." I groan. "I said I’m just excited...and joyful. That’s all."
Leila cuts in before Kayla can retort. "Kayla, stop with the assumptions. Trust her."
"I’m just saying," Kayla mutters, shrugging with zero remorse.
I roll my eyes again, this time in real annoyance. "I need to take a nap."
"A nap will help," Kayla says under her breath. "So I can finally rest from Mr. Grande’s name being tattooed in my head."
I ignore her.
"Go rest," Leila says gently. "Tomorrow’s another big workday."
As I step into my room, my eyes land on the wrapped coat lying at the edge of my bed.
Yes, everyone. I took that coat home.
I tried to leave it in the car—I really did—but… I needed something. A reminder of that experience.
It’s been washed. But his cologne still clings to the fabric—strong and tempting.
I flop onto the bed, pulling the coat close, burying my nose into it as I inhale deeply.
I’m already looking forward to seeing him in my dreams. And tomorrow.
Because I’m not in love.
Just excited.