Johnny & I : The Island

by Daria M Paus

  “It’s all lies,” he sighed, hanging his head. “Well, not everything. I did spend time with her, but that’s it.” He looked intently into my eyes. “I never hurt her, or any of the other shit she’s claiming.” His eyes burned into mine, and I could see the despair—the desperate need for me to believe him. When he spoke again, his deep voice trembled.

  “Everything’s a bloody mess. It’s bad, really bad.” He took a deep breath. “You have to believe me. If it’s money she’s after . . . I’ll give her everything she wants. I just want this to be over.”

  I nodded, giving myself a few minutes to take everything in. When I refocused on him, he looked so miserable my heart ached.

  “I never believed in those stories. And that was before I knew you.”

  A ghost of a smile flashed across his lips but then it was gone as fast as it had appeared.

  I scooted closer, laying a hand on his arm. “It’ll be okay. She can’t get away with shit like that. You’ll see.”

  “How do you do it?”

  My voice was just a soft murmur as I asked, “Do what?”

  “Stay so fucking positive.”

  Was that a hypothetical question, or was I supposed to answer that? I wasn’t sure, but found myself mulling over the answer. “It’s just who I am,” I said at last.

  "That's what I mean, Bree."

  I raised an eyebrow and he gave me a small smile.

  "You make me feel like I can go through this."

  My eyes filled with tears, but I managed to smile. "You can.” I paused. "Don't let her bring you down, she’s not worth it. And you know what they say, the truth always comes out."

  He looked up and when our eyes met, neither of us looked away.

  “I came here to—" His words caught in his throat and it seemed like he was struggling with them. “To be alone,” he said at last. The haunted look on his face made me believe it wasn’t the full truth, but maybe I had imagined the worst. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d jumped to the wrong conclusions. I was known to make a mountain out of a molehill.

  “I’m glad you’re here with me.”

  I smiled. “Me too.”

  “And uh—"

  I waited.

  “Sorry for the drinking, I was . . ." Once again he didn’t finish the sentence. The guessing game started to get annoying, even though I’d gotten used to it. Instead of speaking, he just looked at me. The intensity of his gaze pulled me toward him. Little impulses flew through my body until every inch tingled with heat. He leaned closer, making my heart leap into my throat.

  One of his hands reached out, brushing hair out of my face. The soft touch of his fingers sent shivers all through me, and I could barely keep from gasping out loud. His fingers slid into my hair and there they stayed as we simultaneously closed the gap between us. Our lips barely brushed against each other’s at first, but it was enough to make me lightheaded.

  He pulled back just enough to be able to look at me, searching my face for any sign of discomfort. I was certain he couldn’t find any. In fact, I was trying to keep from throwing myself over him, and I was pretty sure he noticed. His face was so close to me I could smell his cologne and feel his breath tickle my skin. With eyes locked on those sexy lips, I let a trembling hand slide over his shoulder. I could hear the thunder of my own heartbeat, feel the pulse throb as blood rushed through my veins. My hand found the opening of his shirt and slid inside. His lips parted in a low moan as my fingers slid over his chest. I couldn't take it anymore. Feeling those hard muscles under my trembling fingers and hearing those sounds coming from him killed the last ounce of self-control. Before I had a chance to stop myself, I pulled him toward me, pressing my lips to his in a fiery kiss.

  If I’d been able to form any thought, I would’ve questioned my sanity. I wouldn’t have believed this could happen. Even in the midst of it all, a part of me still thought it was nothing more than a hallucination or a wonderful dream.

  He pulled away all too soon, and the look he gave me resembled how I felt. I stared back at him in total awe. He wanted me. ME. It explained the long looks and the brief touches, but even though it was explainable on a theoretical level it didn't make sense. Why me? No matter how hard I tried I couldn't think of one thing.

  "Hey," he said, bringing me out of my thoughts. "Why are you crying?"

  Was I? Before I could react, he reached out, letting his fingers brush across my cheek, and to my horror, they came back wet.

  "I don't know." I looked down at my lap, letting out a shivering breath. Great, the little voice sneered. Now what will he think? I shook my head at my own stupidity.

  His delicate fingers under my chin made me look back up and into his eyes.

  "Don't worry about it," he said.

  Don't worry? The voice in my mind scoffed. This must be one of the dumbest things you’ve done.

  He leaned in to place another kiss on my lips, and if I hadn't already been crying, I would’ve started right then and there. Just thinking of how one simple kiss could contain so much feeling, and how he, with one single touch could transfer so much of that emotion to me, was amazing.

  I choked back a sob that was threatening to embarrass me further.

  Stop crying, the voice urged. What the hell is wrong with you?

  I managed a weak smile, then I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing. It was an understatement to say I was overwhelmed.

  "Bree?"

  "Give me a moment."

  His silence didn't make me feel calmer, in fact, it only made it worse. Even with closed eyes, I felt his gaze burn into me. The ringing was back in my ears and my brain filled with a white fuzz.

  "Bree? Brianna?"

  A voice drifted into my consciousness, distorted and slow, as if I listened to it from under water. Something touched my face, more words trying to reach me.

  "Bree?"

  My eyelids fluttered open, and the first thing on my mind was the time. I’d over-slept like I always did. Lissa would be pissed. I groaned, blinking to focus my gaze on the blurry face hovering over mine.

  “Lissa?”

  His face came into focus as my vision cleared, and my breath caught in my throat. I coughed, choking on a new breath.

  "Fuck, you scared me." He sighed with relief, and I could feel his fingers in my hair.

  I focused my gaze on him, not understanding how I could see Johnny Grey’s handsome face instead of my sister’s, but I more than willingly allowed myself to enjoy the vision.

  Then, everything cleared, and the recent events came rushing back.

  My eyes grew big. “Shit! You’re really here,” I gasped.

  He shook his head, and I couldn't tell if he was amused—or annoyed.

  “What . . . what's going on?"

  I was lying down, and I had no memory of how I’d ended up in that position. I scrambled to sit as it dawned on me. "Don't tell me I—" I cut myself off, realizing what I’d actually done.

  Seriously? The voice was back in my mind. You did THAT in front of him? I looked down, too humiliated to even look at him.

  "Yeah. You did,” Johnny said.

  I groaned, keeping my eyes fixated on my clasped hands. And I’d thought I wouldn't be able to pull anything more embarrassing off. Well, passing out from kissing a Hollywood star wasn't too farfetched and I was probably not the only girl who could manage such stupidity, but how was I going to look him in the eye again?

  "Relax," he said. "I'm not worth fainting over."

  I shook my head in a mix of embarrassment and astonishment.

  "Really,” he added.

  I wanted to tell him that he was, but I didn't want to drag the whole passing out topic longer than necessary.

  "I didn't see that one coming." He let out a short breath. "I shouldn't have done that."

  How could he be so ignorant? Didn't he see what he was doing to me? Didn't he know he could floor me with just one of those looks?

  The words flew from my mouth before I
could stop them. "What the hell did you expect then?"

  He frowned, biting that sexy lower lip and the way my heart started to thump beneath his stare made me want to throw something at him.

  The magic of the moment was gone, leaving us reeling in the harsh reality. Judging by the troubled look on his face—he regretted kissing me.

  What did you expect? The little voice sneered. I wanted to yell, to make it shut up, but instead, I clamped my mouth shut. I crossed my arms over my chest and turned my gaze away so I didn't have to look at him. The whole thing had been too good to be true. How I had been so naive to think that he'd wanted me in the same way as I was aching for him, was a mystery. There was no denying it, my whole body screamed for more, but none of the emotion he’d shown earlier remained. I started to wonder if I’d imagined it. The emotion and the lust I'd been so sure I'd seen on his face was gone. Leaving only that haunted look in his eyes and a stiff posture as he seemed to battle his own thoughts.

  He sighed, and when he spoke my name, it came out as a breathless whisper.

  I forced myself to look at him even though I wanted to be far away and forget he existed.

  Whatever he’d planned to say was forgotten as our eyes met, and for a few seconds that spark was back. The pull of his gaze, the shivers rushing through my body. Then he looked away, shaking his head.

  “Goodnight,” he said. And before I had a chance to react, he got up and left me sitting there.

  9

  Hot & Cold

  For a long time, I couldn't move. Thoughts spun in circles until I felt dizzy. I'd been so sure. Had it all been wishful thinking? A projection of my secret desires? The way he'd looked at me, the way he’d kissed me . . . my heart started to beat faster at the thought of it. If it hadn't been real, I wasn't sure what was. I'd felt it as clear as I'd seen it on his face. The gentle caress, the feather-light touch of his lips, the question in his eyes.

  I let out a quivering sigh. Should I be happy? Grateful I'd gotten to share with him what most girls only dreamed of. Or should I be disappointed it had ended before it had begun? I didn't know. I couldn't wrap my mind around what had happened.

  One minute he'd been the sweet romantic guy I'd swooned over too many times to count. The next moment he'd turned cold as ice, as if what had happened hadn't meant a thing.

  I pressed my eyes shut, trying not to cry.

  What’s wrong with you? The little voice snapped. He kissed you. Johnny Grey kissed you. Yeah, I muttered. As if I wasn't all too aware of that fact.

  Why aren't you dancing with joy?

  I didn't want to admit it even to myself. But the truth was, I'd expected more. Stupid, yes, but true nonetheless. I had expected or at least hoped for more, and the let-down hurt. If he hadn't been serious about me, why the long looks? Why the intense gaze so full of longing? Why the brief touches? Why even bother with me at all? Why build my hopes up just to crush them?

  The little voice scoffed, muttering something about my stupidity. It was correct this time. I had no right to expect him to sweep me off my feet. Hell, he didn't know me, he didn't even want me on this island. And here I was, taking advantage of my situation and expecting him to—what? Love me? Want me?

  Despite my mind screaming at me not to do it, I couldn't keep myself from searching for him. I found him in the bathroom.

  Stopping in the doorway I studied him in silence. The moment my eyes landed on him all the irritation went away. How could I be angry at this man? There was too much of him to love, too much of him to fill my heart with warmth. It didn’t leave space for the darker feelings.

  He stood in front of a tall oval mirror, still as a statue, staring at his reflection.

  He muttered something I couldn't hear, then let out a deep sigh, turning the faucet on before leaning down to splash water in his face. When he straightened again to stare back into the mirror, the silent drops of water rolling down his cheeks filled me with a deep sadness. I couldn't explain it, and I didn't know where it came from.

  He leaned back against the mahogany cabinet, and the look on his face made me feel bad for spying on him. I wasn't better than the paparazzi vultures, stealing his most vulnerable moments for their own pleasure. I took a few steps back, but couldn't bring myself to go. As he slid to the floor, my whole being ached with the need to be next to him.

  Talk to him, the little voice whispered.

  Just as I was about to move, his strange attitude came back to me and I hesitated. The rejection had been clear. He didn't want me. He didn't care for me, so why should I care for him? The moment the thought crossed my mind I knew it was right.

  He drew his knees up, burying his face into his hands as he leaned forward. The slight tremble of his body made tears spring to my eyes.

  Go, the voice ordered. I hesitated. Get outta here. I wasn't sure which side it was on. Seconds ago it had told me to go to him, now it wanted me to run.

  I listened to the voice. One last look at him made the tears I'd been trying to hold back roll down my cheeks, then I turned and ran.

  I couldn't get too involved. No matter how badly I wanted to jump straight in and take whatever he threw my way, good or bad. I couldn't take the risk. I had to think of myself, too. Getting involved with one of the most famous movie stars in the world wasn’t only crazy—it was stupid. I was bound to get hurt. And Johnny wasn't just any random celebrity. He was more than I'd bargained for. He was so much more than I'd known and I was both intrigued, and scared.

  No matter how bad I felt for him, how much my heart wanted to share all the pain he kept to himself, I wasn't sure I was strong enough to handle it.

  "You make me feel like I can go through this."

  The words he'd spoken echoed in my mind.

  "You keep on saving my life"

  I started to cry.

  I didn't want to save his life, I just wanted to get lost in his eyes. I wanted to get dizzy from kissing those full lips, wanted to touch him in the way I'd only been allowed in my dreams.

  But meeting him had quickly made me realize he wasn't just a hot body. And the picture of the perfect Hollywood life was just another act. The reality wasn't as glamorous. The image of him I'd created in my mind was nothing but a two-dimensional creation of a naive fangirl. Johnny wasn't the flippant eye-candy that most girls thought he was.

  He was a mess. Deeply troubled and with a sadness that leaked through no matter how carefully he tried to hide it. It had only taken me a few days to figure it out. And against my better judgment—I’d fallen for him just as fast.

  “I wish I could end it all.”

  I paced the room, wiping stubborn tears. He was a mess, no doubt about that. But he was my hot mess, and somewhere deep down I knew I could never abandon him. It didn't matter how I felt, how scared I was. It didn't even matter that he would leave me with a broken heart. I was already in too deep to get out.

  “I’m glad you’re here with me.”

  My eyes blurred.

  Shit. He was just a few rooms away, and the image of him on that white marble floor was still imprinted in my mind.

  The importance of the kiss faded. Maybe he didn't feel for me in that way. Maybe he was scared, too? And I couldn't blame him. I knew enough to know that he'd been badly burned more than once. Betrayed by the ones he'd loved the most.

  Whatever the reason, it wasn't enough to shut him out. I couldn't be that selfish.

  I found him in the same spot as I'd last seen him. My legs trembled as I walked silently into the bathroom to sit down next to him.

  "Johnny?" My voice was just a whisper. "I'm sorry."

  He shook his head but didn't move to look at me.

  I placed a hand on his back. “Please don’t think of me like that."

  He shifted, straightening his body to finally glance up at me.

  Fresh tears sprung to my eyes.

  He swallowed, taking a deep breath in a failed attempt to hide the pain that was written all over his face.

&n
bsp; ”I’ll stay away from you, I—" It was hard to say the words when all I wanted was the opposite; when it took all the self control I could muster not to wrap my arms around him and kiss him. “I just wanna be your friend. Nothin’ more."

  "Bree," he whispered my name.

  I shook my head. "It's okay."

  I couldn't look at him. There was no way I would be able to look at him and hide the urge to rip his clothes off.

  "Don't be upset because of me."

  A mix of a scoff and a sob tore from his throat. I took his hand.

  "I don't know what I did but . . .”

  "It's not you."

  I snorted. It's not you, it's me. How original.

  "I know how that sounds," he said. "But really." He turned toward me. “I’m not who you think I am."

  “I figured that out the moment I saw you.”

  He ran a hand through his hair, sweeping stubborn strands out of his eyes as he seemed to consider my words. “You’re still here.” He sounded surprised.

  “I like this version of you,” I said and he snorted. “You don’t need fake smiles and perfection around me. Everyone's messed up in their own way. It’s what makes us unique.”

  “That’s a bloody understatement,” he muttered.

  “You don’t have to be something you’re not when you’re with me.”

  The words he’d been about to speak died on his lips. His eyes met mine, and the world faded around us. He reached out to touch my face, brushing tears away with gentle fingers.

  My lips opened in a soft gasp.

  And before I had time to understand what had happened, I was in his arms, crushed to his hard chest. He released me just to look at me, and the few seconds of staring at those soft lips and feeling his hot breath on my skin were more than I could handle. The moment his lips found mine, all the fear went up in smoke. He kissed me long and hard until we both gasped for air, and then more. Fire exploded in my body. My mind spun as my body moved on its own, hands touching him in places I'd only dared to dream of. His hands were in my hair, on my back. I hit the floor with a thud, but all I could think of was his hard body pressing me down and those lips ravishing mine.