I look at him with a sense of guilt and apologize to him with my head lowered.
“Humph! You think your apology can help?” he says coldly.
“That’s all I can do whether you accept it or not. I can’t help you.” I retort back.
His chest is heaving, as if suppressing the anger inside.
After a while, he says with clenched teeth, “Take me to the hospital.”
“It is your arm that is broken, not your legs.”
“Jane!”
He gazes at me with a cold and sharp look. Then I have to help him walk outside.
As soon as we come to the door of the hotel, we run into Whitney who is walking in.
Seeing my hands on Frances’s arms, she immediately rushes over and pushes me away.
“Don’t touch him.”
She stares at me defensively with great disgust in her eyes.
Everyone in the hall is watching us. Though many of them don’t understand our language, anyone with
a discerning eye could guess what happened.
For a moment, embarrassment permeates the air.
“I’m injured.” Frances furrows.
Hearing this, Whitney ignores me and entirely focuses on Frances, asking worriedly, “How? Where did
you hurt?”
“My arm. I fell and hurt myself accidentally.” he replies lightly.
“How did you fall?” Whitney asks, looking at me confusedly.
Suddenly, the scene of him kissing me just now comes to my mind, which makes me feel nervous.
Fortunately, he helps me out.
“Let’s go to the hospital first.”
Whitney drives him to the hospital, and doubtlessly, she wouldn’t let me go with her. So I have to go
back to my room alone, with a sense of loss.
I really hope Frances’s arm will be all right, or I’ll be the guilty one, although it’s his rudeness makes me
push him.
Lying on the bed, I couldn’t sleep.
It seems that sleep has eluded me every night.
I get up and surf Weibo to kill time, then my phone vibrates twice.
I got two messages.
One is from Noah.
“I miss you so much. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I instantly reply, “I’m in France for a competition. I’ll come back in a few days.”
The other message is from Frances.
“Come to room 419.”
He is back?
419? The room number sounds so impure. It sounds just like his room, a lecher’s room.
“I won’t. I’m not going to go for death.” I reject him.
“You have one minute.” He just sends back a short reply.
The less his words are, the worse his temper is. Finally, I choose to come to his room, putting away my
pride and suppressing my anger. I don’t want him to hurt Noah.
Whitney should stay with him in his room. Now that she has known our affairs, I’m finding myself death
to come to his room.
But to my amazement, Frances is standing in the doorway, with plaster cast on his right arm.
“Come in. Whitney has gone back on business.”
Then he pulls me in with his other hand and shut the door.
I take a quick look around the room and find that Whitney is really not here.
“What do you want?”
I step back a little, looking at him alertly.
“Pare an apple for me.” he raises his eyebrows and looks towards the table.
What!
I’m not in the mood to serve him!
“Do it yourself. I’m not your maid.” I reject coldly.
He points to his injured arm with a smirk.
“Who did this to me?”
Yes, it’s me. It’s my fault!
With a deep breath, I grit my teeth and suppress my anger, coming to the table and paring apples for
him.
Damn him! I’ll pare ten to stuff him to death!
He comes over and sits opposite me, speechless, just watching me.
His blazing eyes make me feel uneasy and I almost cut my hands several times.
My phone buzzes twice on the table.
Maybe Noah messages me back.
I put down the knife and reach for my phone, but Frances snatches it away before me.
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