Fall

by Rachel Van Dyken

  “Hold up.” I grabbed my belongings and followed them through the airport. LA was cool like that. For the most part, people stared and they took pictures, but they never really approached that much — especially if you were with an entourage. Now that Demetri and Alec had shown up though, I knew it was only a matter of time before the three of us were trending on Twitter.

  “Hilarious,” I said once we were in the Delta Airlines Club Room.

  “I almost pissed myself, I laughed so hard.” Demetri plopped into the large leather chair and spread his arms behind his head “We’ve been planning it for weeks but with the tour and stuff, it started to look like it might not happen, then your agent called and—”

  “My agent called to tell you what exactly? That my life was over if I didn’t stop sleeping around? Great to know he’s got my back with the secrecy.”

  “Hey!” Alec held up his hands. “Not to be an ass, but he said it would help further the whole innocent thing, you stripping at the airport looking all innocent while people took your picture. Humiliating. You’re welcome.”

  “Haven’t you guys done enough to me?” I got up from my seat and grabbed a bottle of beer before sitting back down. “I mean I have exactly two months to clean up my act. The decision’s going to be made, and I want that part. Thanks to you two, my entire whorish escapades were filmed this last summer for the world to see. Apparently,” I said, shrugging. “I’m a whore-addicted Neanderthal.”

  “Who uses that word anymore?” Demetri asked. “And not that it matters, but you agreed to the reality show. Not our fault you decided to use it as a platform for beating the Guinness world record for how many girls you could sleep with at once.”

  “Whatever.” I picked at the label on the bottle. “I just want to make movies.”

  “Then play nice,” Alec said. “Do the little dance they want you to do, let the puppet play you, and move on. It’s only two months, and Seaside is really nice this time of year.”

  “If you say nice one more time I’m going to break my beer bottle on your head.” I groaned. “And it’s not nice. Seaside is anything but nice. I seem to remember two rock stars texting me like crazy when they had to move there for the summer, and I don’t get a partner in crime. Nope, it’s just me.”

  Alec shrugged.

  Demetri grinned.

  “Shit.” I rested my head against the chair and closed my eyes. “I really have to do this, don’t I?”

  “It would be best for your career,” Alec said seriously. “Besides, you’re already at the airport.”

  “And let’s be honest — Seaside is the best place to find your future girl.”

  At that I laughed and opened my eyes. “Still stuck on that, huh? I’m not a one-girl man. I’m just not made that way. I like things in pairs, or multiples if at all possible. One girl for the rest of my life? Holy shit, shoot me now.” I shook my head. “Not happening. Ever.”

  “He’s going to be eighty and still hitting on chicks at clubs.” Demetri elbowed Alec.

  Alec grinned. “A bet.”

  “Huh?” Demetri asked.

  Oh no. I knew that look. Stupid Alec.

  “A bet.” Alec cleared his throat. “I bet you fall for a girl within the next two months.”

  “I second that bet.” Demetri winked.

  “Holy crap, it’s like you guys are putting a hex on me.” I shuddered and looked away. “Stop it, seriously. Not happening. Have you ever seen me in a relationship? Ever?”

  They both shook their heads.

  “My point exactly, I wouldn’t even know what to do.”

  “It’s called dating.” Alec said it slowly like I was a two-year-old learning how to walk.

  “Thanks, jackass.” I threw part of the beer label I’d been twisting in my fingers at his face.

  “The role you want…” Demetri cleared his throat, all humor leaving. “It’s that new one about first love?”

  “Yeah…” I said slowly. “Why?”

  “You need to experience heartbreak in order to play it.”

  “Not true,” I argued. “I’ve never been homeless, but I can play the shit out of a homeless guy.”

  Alec chuckled. “What Demetri’s trying to say is that you can’t play heartbreak if you’ve never experienced it because it’s different than playing a part. When your heart breaks — when you lose something you want to win — it changes your world. You, my friend…” He pointed directly at me. “…have never been thrown off. You’ve experienced family drama, but you don’t know what it’s like to yearn for someone’s touch, to want them to want you so much that you’d die just for one taste…” He shrugged. “You don’t know that feeling. You don’t even know what it’s like to steal the innocence straight from a girl’s lips. You have to feel it to play it, that’s all I’m saying. You can change your image all you want, but that audition won’t be yours until you know what it’s like to get your earth completely and totally shattered.”

  I kept my mocking smile firmly in place, when really my heart was damn near going to pound straight out of my chest. I’d drunk innocence directly from a girl’s lips. I’d tasted purity and ever since I’d nearly gone insane with want for it.

  My mind replayed images of that night with Priscilla — the night I told myself I’d just satisfy my own stupid curiosity, only to find that it did nothing but start a burning fire in my soul for more of what I knew she could offer. I’d screwed it up by forcing her to think I didn’t care. It had been the only way, because the minute her body responded to my touch, I’d realized why I didn’t do relationships. Why I didn’t do first kisses and white picket fences.

  Most endings weren’t the fairy tale. I knew that first hand. And Priscilla? She’d looked at me as if I’d freaking climbed an ivory tower and slain the dragon for her, not even realizing that I wasn’t the savior, but a wolf in sheep’s clothing. I was the damn dragon and I wanted nothing more than to destroy everything good about her — allow her to fill my loneliness with her smile.

  “Hey, you okay?” Alec squinted in my direction while he and Demetri exchanged a glance.

  “Just starving.” I shrugged, my voice croaking. “I should probably get something to eat before I catch my flight.”

  “Okay.” Alec rose. “But think about what I said, alright?”

  No chance in hell I’d be able to do anything but think about what he’d said, the bastard.

  “I’ll try.” I gave him a tight smile.

  Chapter Three

  Jaymeson

  Alec’s words haunted me the entire flight. I wanted to freaking bash my head against the wall; I was irritated that his little speech had affected me so much. I mean, who the hell cared? I could play anything! I’d be whatever they wanted me to be. I’d screw whomever I needed to screw. I just wanted the damn part.

  The problem with Alec and Demetri? They were hopelessly in love; they saw things through a different lens, a clouded one, to be exact. Mine was clear, and my goal was clear. Clean up my image, get the part, do what I love. The End. It wasn’t selfish. How could bettering myself be selfish? It was doing what I was passionate about. It was making people smile, making them happy while making myself happy.

  I fought the guilt and ordered another small bottle of whiskey. It was the last one; it had to be, because I wasn’t entirely sure I’d have a car waiting for me or if I’d have to rent one to drive all the way to Hell.

  I wasn’t taking any chances.

  The last thing I needed was a DUI.

  “You traveling for business or pleasure?” the elderly lady next to me asked, totally interrupting my thoughts.

  “Business,” I said, not making eye contact lest she start screaming my name and ask me to sign her bra.

  “All pleasure on my end.” She elbowed me. “I’m going to one of those fancy resorts on the coast.”

  “Lovely.” I cleared my throat and tried to look interested in the magazine in my lap.

  “Oh it is. Seaside’s wonder
ful this time of year.”

  “Seaside?” I snorted. “Wonderful?”

  “Oh yes.” She sighed, “My honey and I used to take long walks on that beach, camp out in the sand at midnight.” She shivered. “Kiss under the stars.”

  She kept reminiscing.

  And I kept staring at the magazine. Praying my mind would — at some point in my life — rid itself of the memory of Priscilla’s kiss.

  Her touch.

  Her scent.

  Everything about her that made my heart clench in my chest. Funny how one girl, one moment can change your life forever. She probably hated me.

  And I couldn’t blame her.

  But it was easier to hate someone than deal with having a broken heart. And I knew it was best. What I did was for both of us. But mainly, it was for her. She was lucky I rejected her.

  “Do you have a girlfriend?” the chatty woman asked.

  “No. I don’t.”

  “Oh that’s alright.” She patted my arm. “You have plenty of time to settle down.”

  “Right.” I offered her a smile.

  Her eyebrows knit together. “You look famous.”

  “I am famous.”

  “Oh.” She nodded. “That’s nice.”

  “Yeah.” I smiled for real this time. “It is.”

  “Have I seen any of your movies?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  She seemed to think about this for a minute. “If I text my grandkids and say I sat next to you will they scream?”

  I smirked. “How old are they?”

  “Fourteen.”

  “Yeah.” I laughed. “Lots of high pitched screaming.”

  “Can I have your autograph? Or do you get tired of people asking you that? I don’t mean to be a bother…”

  I reached into my carry-on and pulled out two pictures, signing them with long fluid letters and then pulled out my phone and took a picture. “Give me your email and I’ll send this to you.”

  “I can’t believe—” she dabbed her eyes, “You would do that, you don’t even know me.”

  “Yeah I do.” I held out my hand. “Jamie Jaymeson.”

  She blanched.

  Holy shit. She was having a stroke.

  I was about ready to yell for someone when she threw her bony arms around me and whispered in my ear, “I just loved you in that Romeo and Juliet remake — I can die happy now.” She squeezed me so tight I had trouble breathing.

  “Er, thanks.” I pulled back and smiled.

  “You’ll find your girl soon, Jamie. I just know it. A woman knows these things.”

  “Yeah.” I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. “Thanks.”

  Hell, I needed more to drink. The last thing I needed was a sweet grandma telling me she loved me and then telling me I was going to settle down soon. No way. Not gonna happen.

  Because if I ever did settle down.

  It wouldn’t be with anyone.

  But her.

  Chapter Four

  Priscilla

  I grabbed the boxes from the donation center and carried them outside to my car. My dad’s church had recently decided to do a contest where each family donated clothing to the local Goodwill.

  The family that won was given an overnight stay at the new resort in Canon Beach. I guess that was one way to get people to give, especially in this day and age. Last Christmas I had gone door to door to get donations for needy families, and was told at least ten times that the families wouldn’t be so needy if they got off their asses and worked for a living.

  And I was only asking for a dollar donation.

  Sometimes I hated people.

  I was much happier being the silent one in the background. Give me a clipboard with a list of things to accomplish or a building to paint, but don’t make me deal with people who haughtily talked out of their asses for a living. My dad would kill me if he could hear my inner monologue. I’d just said ass like two times in the past five minutes.

  Dehydration and irritation were both setting in.

  The dehydration was due to the fact that nobody was helping me carry all five thousand boxes to my car on account of they were all at a cheer competition for my little sister. It was her first “away” competition, and not that our parents didn’t trust her, but she was sixteen and well… let’s just say the football team knew her well — too well if you asked me.

  My irritation had been caused by an entirely different reason — I was still thinking about the devil, also known as Jamie Jaymeson, A-list actor and genuine jackass. See? There I go again. Maybe I should just write ass across my shirt. You know, really commit to the word for an entire day.

  I snorted as I crammed another box into my car. If Jaymeson and his stupid accent were here, I’m sure I could throw around a lot more than ass. I may even dive deep down in my black heart and use an F-bomb, consequently waking my grandmother from her grave of two years, and causing her to haunt me for the rest of my natural existence.

  With a grunt, I picked up one more box and shoved it into the car, slamming the door behind it.

  Forget my grandmother, visions of Jaymeson teased me; they haunted me, they seriously made me want to fly down to LA and burn down his house — with him inside.

  It hadn’t been my first kiss.

  But it had been my best — my favorite. Until the idiot, see I don’t have to say ass all the time, decided to panic and act like a commitment-phobe freak.

  What? It wasn’t like I expected him to propose to me! I’m eighteen! Eight-freaking-teen! I was just so shocked that he’d been shaking while giving me the kiss, that he’d been so tender in the process, that for a split second, I believed he could be a different person.

  I saw a Jaymeson that I’m sure the world had never seen. He was awkward, afraid, scared, hilarious.

  And mine.

  He’d kissed me like I was his, and I hated that every second of the day a part of me wished it were true.

  With a sigh, I walked over to the driver’s side of my car and heard a loud honking. I jerked back against my door and swore out loud as a truck sped by and flipped me off.

  Great, so thinking of Jaymeson wasn’t just driving me slowly insane, it was going to get me killed.

  I needed to find a boyfriend.

  And get a life.

  I’d promised my parents I would take a semester off and start school at Oregon State in the spring.

  Yeah, I should have never made that promise. I was already in hell. And FYI, hell isn’t a bad word because it’s an actual place; I tell my dad this on a daily basis.

  I turned the key in my red Camry and slowly pulled out of the parking lot. I drove like a snail toward Goodwill, and it had nothing to do with the fact that I was a terrible driver. It did, however, have everything to do with the fact that my parents were going to be gone for an entire week, only to come home for the weekend and leave again for my sister’s next cheerleading competition in Seattle. They were going to stay an extra week and vacation, then drive her back in time for school to start.

  Leaving me alone.

  All alone.

  I started singing, “All by myself…” at the top of my lungs then stopped. You know you’ve hit a low point when your own singing grates on your nerves.

  My friends had all abandoned me for college — it was September, where else would they be?

  And I had a week to look forward to movies and silence.

  But I couldn’t watch movies because they made me think of him, and I couldn’t go to the beach because that’s where the kiss had taken place — meaning, I was stuck with staring at the wall or reading books.

  Books became my boyfriend.

  My addiction.

  My obsession.

  Me and Mr. Darcy were basically married now — I mean, I spoke to him out loud on a daily basis, minus the English accent, because, you’ve guessed it! Jaymeson had an English accent. And no, for your information, it doesn’t sound ridiculous on him, it sounds sexy, deep, grating.<
br />
  “Damn it!” I slammed the steering wheel with my hand, accidently hitting the horn as a sweet old lady made her way slowly across the street with a cane.

  I mouthed ‘sorry.’

  And received another finger.

  How nice, the sweet old lady knows how to flip people off.

  I fought the urge to return the gesture — but figured it was probably a bad idea considering a bumper sticker from my dad’s church had found it’s way onto my car.

  Every time I took it off.

  He replaced it.

  Resistance was futile.

  Hah! Star Trek! I pumped my fist into the air and then swallowed. “Holy crap, I need a life.”

  Starting now. I pulled into the parking lot and vowed… the next few months would be different. I’d take chances, take risks, live on the wild side, and for the love of God, I would NOT think of Jamie Jaymeson, or his eyes, or his smile, or his…

  He was dead to me.

  “Dead, you hear me!” I slammed my fist into the horn again, this time on purpose, forgetting that my window was open.

  A guy from Goodwill walked over and grimaced. “Remind me to never piss you off.”

  “Sorry.” I felt my cheeks blush. “I… um, I’m here to deliver donations from Seaside Christian Fellowship?” Yeah… way’ta go, Pris.

  He licked his lips and let out a chuckle. “Of course you are.”

  And my blush deepened.

  “I’ll get the boxes out, you just sit tight. Seems like it’s been a rough day for you.”

  “Try rough summer,” I mumbled under my breath.

  “I’m Smith.”

  I squinted as the sun blinded me. “Is that your last name?”

  “First.” He smiled again, this time revealing a deep-set dimple on his left cheek. The sun was shining in my eyes, so really all I could see was teeth, nice white teeth with a big white smile.

  Like a movie star.

  I groaned.

  “Hey, are you okay?” He reached for my door just as I pushed it open, and — you guessed it — knocked him flat on his ass.

  “Oh, my gosh!” I rushed to his side and grabbed his arm. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to… I mean, I wasn’t…” Words died. And then when I opened my mouth to spout more words, smart ones, that sounded… smart and stuff, I gawked.