Giving the CEO to Her First Love

I've been drinking milk since young, so my body is far more mature compared to my peers.

When I'm 18 years old, my protective older sister, Yvonne Gibson, is worried that I might get my cherry stolen by others via trickery, so she specifically asks her best friend, Jasmine Joyner, to take care of me.

But during our first meeting, Jasmine's gaze never leaves my crotch.

After my graduation, I lead a double life. During daytime, Jasmine is my boss. At night, I'm her bed partner.

Throughout our four-year secret relationship, I'm slowly molded into the lover Jasmine likes the most.

Four years later, Jasmine's ex-fiance, Ethan Sawyer, has returned to the country. She quickly jumps out of bed and hurries to the airport in order to pick him up.

I endure my physical discomfort the best I can as I follow her to the airport.

An hour ago, Jasmine's soft body is entangled with mine. But now, she allows another man to embrace her right in front of my eyes.

"Marcel Gibson, you climbed into my bed and took advantage of my intoxication four years ago. You're being unreasonable right now, and it's really getting old."

The way Jasmine gazes at Ethan is very tender. The way she looks at me while mocking me is also awfully serious.

I also think that things between us are getting old as well, so I text Yvonne and tell her to accept the Roberts family's marriage proposal on my behalf.

Then, I look up at Jasmine with a smile.

"Okay. Goodbye, then."

My sister, Yvonne Gibson, called me back almost right away.

On the other end, she sounded relieved, even a little proud, that I had finally let go of the mysterious woman I had loved for years.

She had no idea that the person who had dragged me through every high and low of love was her very best friend, Jasmine Joyner.

After I hung up, I picked up the resignation letter I had prepared long ago and headed to HR. However, the process got stuck at the final step.

"Mr. Gibson, if you want to leave within a week, you'll need the CEO's signed approval."

Jasmine—again. Even in leaving, I couldn't get around her.

I tightened my grip on my phone and walked to the far end of an empty hallway before dialing a familiar number. The line rang for a long time.

Just when I thought no one would answer, the call connected. An unfamiliar male voice came through. "Hello? Are you looking for Jazz? She's in the shower…"

"Jazz" was in the shower. That simple statement felt like a poisonous injection stabbed into my chest.

Uncharacteristically, I replied calmly, "Never mind. Thanks."

I hung up before the man could say anything else. The screen went dark, reflecting my pale, drained face.

Less than two minutes later, my phone started vibrating again. I stared at the name "Jasmine" for a few seconds before sliding to answer.

"What do you need?" she asked coolly, as if I were just his subordinate.

And yet, just last night, she had been beneath me, moaning my name over and over.

I tightened my grip on the resignation letter until my knuckles turned white. "Ms. Joyner, there's a document that needs your signature before it can go through."

Jasmine hummed casually, then seemed to remember something.

"Oh, right. You should come back later and clear out your stuff. Ethan's moving in. The apartment in the west suburbs is empty. You can move there. I did promise Yvonne I'd look after you, after all."

Four years ago, Jasmine had dragged me into bed while she was drunk and bestowed on me the role of a bed partner, as if it were charity.

Four years later, under the guise of being a good friend, she offered me a place to stay. The way she handled everything so thoughtfully made it all feel ridiculous and unbearably hollow.

I chuckled. "That won't be necessary, Ms. Joyner. I'm an adult. I can fend for myself just fine."

Besides, once she signed the resignation letter and I finished handing over my work, I could finally put an end to these absurd four years. Not to mention, I was getting married.

…

I lay awake in the hotel until morning. Strangely, I felt more clear-headed than I ever had when waking up beside Jasmine.

I called a car and went back to the villa I had lived in for the past four years. The moment I pushed the door open, I almost thought I had the wrong place.

The room that used to be all black, white, and gray was now washed over in warm colors.

The entryway where I had begged Jasmine for a month just to hang up a single photo of us had been turned into a wall of her pictures with Ethan Sawyer.

"Ethan likes it this way."

Jasmine's voice came from behind me. When I looked at her, I caught a hint of frustration on her face. "He came by yesterday. He wasn't too happy seeing your stuff."

It wasn't until she led me to the storage room that I understood what she meant.