Addicted to the Masked Man

"Gypsy, please come with us," Rona begged over the phone, her voice full of excitement. She had become close to Gypsy and her squad, and they were all eager to see her again.

"You know I'm so tired," Gypsy replied, trying to resist.

"No more excuses," Rona insisted, her tone firm.

 "You've been stressed and tired for so long. It's the weekend! It's time to refresh yourself. You've been hiding away for a whole month. You need to enjoy life too, especially when you have the time!"

It had been a month since she decided to take a break from her old lifestyle—a month without alcohol, parties, or boys. She was proud of herself for this new record.

"Rona, I really can’t," Gypsy replied, her feet itching to go but her resolve holding strong. She had promised herself she would change. She didn’t want to disappoint the Mortel’s, especially Drake.

"I said no more excuses!" Rona’s voice cracked with frustration. She was growing impatient with Gypsy's constant rejections. And with that, Rona hung up the phone.

Gypsy sat there, alone in her room, missing the taste of alcohol, the loud beats of the dance floor, and the attention she used to get from the guys. But now, she knew what truly mattered—winning Drake’s heart. She needed to behave differently, to focus on her goals. She couldn’t risk losing her way in the pursuit of her dreams.

"Ma'am Gypsy, your friends are here," her maid called out.

"Who?" she asked, surprised. She hadn’t invited anyone over.

"Gypsy dear, we’re here!" Rona’s voice rang through the house as she burst in, followed by the rest of the squad. Rona was beaming, her face full of excitement.

"We’re picking you up! Get dressed, or should I dress you myself?" she teased.

Gypsy had no choice but to join them. Reluctantly, she slipped into a mini skirt, a sleeveless top, and 3-inch heels—the usual party outfit. She quickly emerged from her closet, and her friends smirked at her.

"Looks like you haven’t totally changed, Gypsy," Lisa commented with a laugh, and the others joined in.

"Let’s go before I change my mind," Gypsy said, trying to sound firm, but deep inside, she was already giving in.

She had been a party girl all through her teenage years, and now, after a break, she was excited to party again. Maybe it was true what they said—once you get used to this lifestyle, it’s hard to let go. She had promised herself she’d change, but it felt so impossible.

The flashing lights, the pulsating music, and the atmosphere of the bar were intoxicating. It had been a whole month of training, and Rona was right—she needed a break.

Rona, Lisa, and the others were already on the dance floor when Gypsy sat at a table with a glass of wine. Men surrounded her, trying to catch her attention, but she didn’t care. They weren’t her type anyway.

"Need some company?" she heard a voice ask. She turned to see a handsome man standing there. Already tipsy but still in control, she smiled.

"Sure," she replied. The man sat down beside her.

"Good," he said.

"I'm Akie," he introduced himself, extending a hand.

"Gypsy," she shook his hand, a bit uncomfortable by his intense gaze. It was a look she was used to, but something about it made her uneasy.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" he asked, his voice casual.

"Nope," she answered, smiling. Akie seemed pleased by her response. He probably thought she was single, available. If it weren’t for Drake Mortel, she might have considered him. But she quickly reminded herself that she was taken.

"Nice," he said.

"But I do have a fiancé," she added, watching as his expression immediately froze. He didn’t seem upset, just surprised.

"Then who’s the lucky guy?" Akie asked, genuinely curious.

"It’s a top secret," she said with a playful smile. She couldn’t tell him it was Drake Mortel—too risky. She didn’t trust this guy completely, despite how easy it was to talk to him.

"So, you’re keeping your fiancé lowkey?" he laughed.

"Don’t you know what lowkey means? That’s how we are," she explained, though deep down, she knew she wasn’t actually "lowkey." Her relationship with Drake was more of an arranged one, with no deep intimacy yet. But the world thought they were in love, thanks to the publicity. Perhaps Akie had never heard of her or Drake—he didn’t seem to recognize her.

"Wow, you’re interesting," Akie said, intrigued. Gypsy was still confused by his reaction, but one thing was certain: he was different from the usual guys she met at parties. And yet, despite his charm, she couldn’t let herself get distracted. She was committed to Drake, after all.

As the night wore on, Akie and Gypsy talked about their travels, hobbies, and swapped numbers. They had a good time together, and she couldn’t help but laugh at his funny stories. He was charming, funny, and good-looking—everything she used to fall for. But she reminded herself that her heart belonged to someone else.

Back on the dance floor, Rona and the others noticed Gypsy’s attention on Akie.

"Looks like Gypsy found an interesting guy," Rona said, her eyes twinkling.

"He's a hottie," Kyla commented, stealing glances at Akie.

"Yeah, that’s Gypsy for you—always going for the hottest ones. You should be thanking your lucky stars he’s not an engineer. Otherwise, you’d have no chance," Rona added with a laugh, and the group burst into giggles.

Soon, they left the dance floor and returned to their table.

"Hey, boy," Kyla called out, trying to get Akie’s attention. He turned, smiling.

"You're so handsome. Want to dance with me?" she teased.

"I don’t dance," Akie said, a bit shy.

"No problem, I’ll take care of it," Kyla said as she grabbed his hand and pulled him to the dance floor. The crowd cheered and danced wildly as the music blared, everyone losing themselves in the fun.

Gypsy couldn’t help but notice Akie. She learned a lot about him—he was an Australian model here for vacation, and his family was incredibly wealthy. She was sure he could have any woman he wanted, and yet he seemed to be genuinely interested in her. But she had no intention of pursuing anything. Drake was her fiancé. Perhaps she’d introduce Akie to Kyla or Nana instead.

The night ended with everyone drunk, but Gypsy, thanks to her high tolerance, was still sober enough to be aware of her surroundings. She hadn’t driven, so Akie offered to give her a ride home. At first, she hesitated, not wanting to inconvenience him, but he insisted. It didn’t feel wrong, so she agreed.

When they arrived at her house, Gypsy was exhausted. She didn’t even bother to clean up before crashing into her bed, sleep overtaking her instantly.

The next morning, her head pounded as though it would explode. She shuffled downstairs, looking like a zombie, disheveled and tired. It was a far cry from the Gypsy everyone knew. She moved quickly, almost running, not noticing she had bumped into someone.

She looked up and froze in shock. Standing there, in front of her, was the last person she expected to see: Drake, wearing a mask. Her eyes widened, and her heart skipped a beat. In a panic, she rushed to her room, embarrassed that he had caught her in such a state.

She had thought Drake wouldn’t visit her until after her graduation. If she had known he was coming, she would have prepared to impress him, to show him the woman she wanted to be for him. Her mind raced as the adrenaline kicked in. She quickly fixed herself, trying to pull herself together.

But as the minutes passed, she hesitated. Should she go down and face him? It had already been an hour. She didn’t want to keep him waiting, but she was still embarrassed by how she had looked when they first met.

In the end, she decided to face him. But when she reached the living room, Drake was gone. He had come without permission, and left without saying goodbye. She couldn’t blame him, though. Time was precious for him, and he had other things to do.

As she sat down to take her medicine for the hangover, her maid handed her a tray.

"The man in the mask said to drink this," the maid said. Gypsy took the medicine and returned to her room, still lost in thought.

This was the second time she had seen Drake. She couldn’t stop thinking about their first meeting, the kiss they shared. His name echoed in her mind, over and over: Drake, Drake, Drake... She was addicted to him, but no matter how much she tried, she couldn’t shake him. He was like the wind—always disappearing just when she thought she had him figured out.

And she was helpless, hopelessly addicted to Drake.