Tortured Sinner by Tessa James

Claire - 23

Today, I have been braver than I have in a very long time.

I’ve said and done things so out of character that I’m honestly surprised myself.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s been freaking terrifying, but having those little moments of breakthrough with Johnny, where I saw his walls start to come down, made it all totally freaking worth it.

He’s hiding something. And if my intuition tells me anything, it’s big. Big and dangerous and probably illegal.

Some risks are worth taking, and with him, my gut is screaming at me to take this leap of faith. What do I have to lose, anyway?

I’m sitting on the couch in my mom’s condo when a knock rattles the door. I jump up and rush over, holding my breath in anticipation for what’s on the other side.

Part of me is scared of what condition Johnny will be in when he returns from whatever he’s doing. He’s been in a constant state of bumps and bruises since I met him, and I can only imagine that will continue while he’s wrapped up with his thing. It’s tough to stomach and not be able to do anything about it.

Revenge is bittersweet, and I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t one of the main reasons I offered to help him figure out who it was that attacked him in the alley.

I’m not even sure what the hell I’d do, but the psycho who did that to him deserves to pay in some kind of way.

I open the door to find him standing there in the condition he was when he left me a couple hours ago, only he’s wearing a different shirt. A black one. I quickly scan his face and arms for any sign of distress. I exhale and try to hide the relief that courses through me.

“Hey.” He’s failing miserably at hiding his grin.

“Hey.”

“You ready to get back to work?” Johnny leans against the frame.

“Yeah. You want to come in?”

“Have you eaten?”

Is this where I admit that I’ve been sitting here frantically watching the seconds tick by on the clock while I waited for him to arrive back safely? “Nope.”

“Grab your stuff.”

I follow along without question, going back to the living room and shoving my notebooks into my bag. I slide my phone and keys in my pocket on the way out.

“Here, let me.” He takes my backpack from me and slings it over his shoulder.

Did I just time travel to the seventh grade, where a boy is carrying my books for me?

“Uh, thanks.” I find myself unsure of how to react to such a thoughtful gesture.

At least the errand he was sent out on didn’t put him in a bad mood, or worse, damage his pretty face.

Questions rattle their way through my head at the missing hours between when I saw him last. I want the answers to all of them, but I don’t think it’s my place to ask.

I choose something basic. “Everything go okay?” A simple yes or no that doesn’t give away anything too incriminating.

We stroll side by side down the stairs and across the empty courtyard.

He pauses to open the gate and glances down at me. “Surprisingly, yeah.”

I assume from the reoccurring black eyes and busted lip that not being injured is a surprise.

“Good.” I try not to pry anymore despite nearly bursting at the seams with the need to follow up.

Johnny places his hand on my lower back and leads me out of the complex.

The sun casts a beautiful orange and pink on the horizon, and the heat from the day has dissipated. The temperature is perfect for an evening stroll.

A few minutes later we arrive at a familiar spot. The door jingles, and the cheery old man greets us from across the café.

Johnny scans the diner and grabs my hand, tugging me toward a booth in the corner.

That’s twice now in a short period that I’ve had to ignore the way his touch affected me. For him, it seems casual and natural—for me, it’s like fire igniting my soul.

“Is this okay?” He motions for me to take a seat.

“Mmhm.” I slide across the cushy material.

He drops my backpack next to me and climbs to the opposite side.

Bram glides over with a shit-eating grin on his face. He swivels an empty chair from a nearby vacant table and straddles it. “What’s going on you two?”

Johnny points to my bag. “Studying.”

“Ah, I see,” Bram drags out the last syllable.

“And we need to eat,” Johnny adds.

“Sure. Obviously.” Bram bobs his head up and down. He straightens up and grabs his notepad and pencil. “Well then, do you know what you want, or do you want a minute?”

I glance over at Johnny, letting the simple question from Bram settle into my head. Clearly, he was referring to something completely different, but I can’t help the way my thoughts wander to this beautifully broken boy sitting across from me.

We’re just two damaged souls who stumbled into each other unexpectedly.

And maybe that’s all we ever will be, paths that were temporarily crossed.

Johnny meets my gaze, almost like he’s thinking the exact same thing. “You ready or do you need time?”

I’ve never been so certainly uncertain about something in my life. I force myself to look away from Johnny and focus on Bram. “Stack of blue with a side of b. And a coffee, please.”

Bram’s eyes twinkle while he jots down my order. “Keep it up and I’ll be offering you a job.”

“Are you hiring?” I let out a laugh, although I’m partially serious. I could use the extra cash to save for the move back home. I’ve seen a few wanted signs going to and from school, but nothing jumped out at me to apply.

Bram tilts his head. “Are you looking?”

I shrug and nod. “Yeah, kind of.”

“Congratulations.” Bram extends his hand. “You got the job.”

I look to Johnny. “Is he messing with me?”

Johnny leans back and throws his arm across the top of the booth. "Nope."

“Thanks.” I give Bram a firm shake, completely in disbelief at the turn of events.

A small pit forms in my stomach, reminding me that good things don’t last. At some point, the other shoe will eventually drop. For now, though, I will ride the wave of decentness that comes my way.

“No, thank you.” Bram lets go and turns to Johnny. “And for you?”

“I’ll have the same, minus the job.”

Bram chuckles. “You sure? You’d look snazzy in a hair net.”

Johnny rolls his eyes and repositions in his seat.

The dynamic between the two of them is something like a father and son. It’s adorable to watch play out, especially when Bram manages to slightly embarrass Johnny. Another one of the many layers of Johnny Jones that not everyone gets to witness.

“I’m glad you got breakfast.” Johnny glances across the diner and then back at me. “I figured you’d think I was a weirdo for ordering it this late.”

“Are you kidding me? I could eat it for every meal.”

“Same.”

We lock eyes and my heart stutters at the intensity of it.

Bram plants our mugs on the table and fills each one with steaming coffee. He slides a cinnamon shaker between us and walks away without another word.

“So,” I finally say. “We should get to work.”

“Yeah, of course.” He snaps out of his trance.

“Have you done any of your assignments yet?” I bite my lip and wait for the answer I already know is coming.

“I—uh…no.”

“Okay. We can catch up. No big deal.” I exhale. “Are you behind in all of your classes?”

Johnny scratches his head and averts his gaze. “I’ve been a little preoccupied.”

“I know. I understand. But I can’t help you if I don’t see the big picture.”

“Claire, Brown only put you up to tutoring me in English. You don’t have to worry about the rest.” He pauses. “I’m sort of a lost cause.”

Without thinking, I reach across the table and latch onto his hand. “Hey, don’t say that. We’ll figure it out. All of it.”

It suddenly dawns on me that Johnny has probably never had someone in his corner. Someone pulling a little bit of the heavy weight he carries around with him daily. Someone looking out for him and caring about his well-being.

He glances down at our interwoven fingers. “That’s not your burden to carry.”

“What are friends for?”

“After everything I’ve done to you?” Johnny shifts his attention back to me.

I raise my shoulders. “Meh. Water under the bridge.”

Sure, Johnny has been a royal jerk at times, but deep down, I think his intentions were always for the best. If anything, the last twenty-four hours have proven that there's goodness in him. He's got a hell of a lot more going on than most people our age, and without even knowing the whole story, I'd say he's handling things pretty well.

“But,” I continue, “If we’re going to do this, you have to work with me.”

Bram approaches with an armful of plates. “Here we go, kids.”

We break our moment to give Bram room to lay the food on the table. There's a lingering absence where Johnny's skin was touching mine, and I can't help but wonder if he feels that, too.

It's pretty obvious that Johnny doesn't actually hate me like I had once thought. But aside from being his friend, I'm not sure how he views me. Maybe I'm exaggerating the sparks between us—the natural pull to each other that we seem to have. It could be one-sided, and I may be imagining it entirely.

One thing is sure, though—I have never wanted so badly to be a part of someone’s life, no matter how big or small that role might be.