The Hooker and the Hermit

by L.H. Cosway

  The following morning, while I was sitting by the counter eating breakfast, my phone buzzed with a text. My heart thudded when I saw it was from Annie.

  Annie: Joan wants us seen together today. Gerta is forwarding you details on where to meet me for lunch. It’s a health food café, so I’m presuming you’ll be able to eat what’s on the menu.

  Her text was so cold and businesslike, and the underlying message was clear as day: This is all for the cameras. My gut sank, but I didn’t allow myself to lose hope. The fact that she was agreeing to see me at all was a good sign.

  A few hours later, I was dressed in a dark grey shirt and a nice pair of jeans.

  “Where are you off to?” Ma asked as she sipped on her coffee where she sat in the lounge area.

  “I’m meeting Annie for lunch. I’ll see you later,” I replied, and she started getting up from her seat.

  “Oh, great, I’ll come with you then. I’m starving, and it’ll give me the chance to apologize.”

  I held up a hand. “No, Ma, you can’t come. You can, however, apologize to Annie, but we’ll plan for that another time.”

  Before she could say another word, I was out the door.

  ***

  I saw Annie as I approached the café. She was sitting in the outdoor section as she waited for me, her long hair down and tossed over one shoulder. I noticed she was wearing one of her older baggy brown cardigans covering a pretty flower-print dress beneath. The fact that she was wearing the cardigan made me think she wasn’t feeling so special. She didn’t want to be noticed today.

  Fuck, there was no way I’d ever not notice her. I thought back to our first meeting and how I’d lasciviously planned on making her a new notch on my bedpost. A temporary though very lovely distraction. It was almost like some higher power was playing a sick joke on me because now I couldn’t imagine my life without her.

  “Hey,” I said, hardly recognizing my own voice, it was so tentative. I couldn’t believe it, but I was nervous. I was never nervous. She stood when she saw me, and I leaned forward, placing my hand on her shoulder and kissing her lightly on the cheek. She smelled incredible. I’d missed her so badly that it was almost too much to be this close to her. “You look beautiful,” I murmured in her ear, trying to ignore the gaggle of photographers across the street snapping shots.

  Annie cleared her throat. “Thank you.”

  We sat down then, and I didn’t know what to say. This was my opportunity to apologize for my mother, and I wanted it to be perfect. I scanned the menu for a minute, and then the waitress came to take our order. Once she was gone, I leaned across the table and placed my hand over Annie’s. Her skin was soft and warm, so lovely. I missed the feel of her. My body practically hummed with the need to touch her everywhere all at once.

  “I’m only letting you keep your hand there for the cameras,” Annie said quietly, dragging her teeth anxiously across her lower lip. I ducked my head to catch her eyes.

  “How are you feeling, love?”

  For a second, she seemed taken aback by the tenderness in my voice. If she thought I was pissed at her for staying away, for not answering my calls, then she was dead wrong. I could never be angry at her. I was too infatuated to be angry.

  “I’m okay. Busy with work and all,” she answered and reached for her glass of water to take a sip.

  “And Kurt, right?”

  I knew I wasn’t imagining things when I saw her wince. “I think we both know I’m not interested in Kurt.”

  I squeezed her hand in silent thanks, knowing it took a lot for her to say that, to give me that small consolation. Then I let out a long breath. “I need to apologize for my mother’s behavior,” I said and began rubbing my thumb across her skin. “She was way out of line talking to you like she did. I’ve already set her straight, and she’s sorry. She wants to apologize in person, too….”

  “I’d rather she didn’t.” Annie lifted her eyes to mine and stared at me for a long moment; I felt and saw something like steel, a stern resolve in her expression as she continued, “I don’t wish to be rude, but your mother is…well, I don’t believe it’s possible for us to reach any kind of friendly understanding. I have a hard time being around people like her. I’ve organized my life to avoid confrontations, and I have no desire to meet or see her again. Anyway, it was probably for the best, what she said. It helped me realize that what’s been going on between us could never work.”

  I opened my mouth to disagree with her, but she held up her hand.

  “P-please, just let me speak. The real issue isn’t what your mother said or whether it is true. The point is that we come from entirely different worlds. I mean, I don’t mind being your temporary fake girlfriend for a couple of weeks, but I couldn’t handle it forever. I don’t know what I was thinking. I need to return to normality eventually. Everyday encounters with people are difficult for me. I wouldn’t survive living in the spotlight. I’m not strong like you. I thrive on anonymity.”

  I tightened my grip on her hand, my voice laced with emotion. “Don’t do this. How often do people find a connection like we have? I’ll protect you. I’ll keep the press away. Hell, I’ll even give up playing rugby if it means we can be together.”

  Her lips parted, and she blinked at me in surprise. I’d startled her. It took her a moment to recover, and when she did I could see that I’d rattled her cage. “Y-you love what you do. I would never ask you to give it up.”

  “Just because I’m not playing professionally doesn’t mean I can’t play at all. Anyway, I’m getting old. I’m almost at retirement age now, you know,” I joked and mustered a smile. “Please, Annie, just give us a chance.”

  “It’s better this way.” Her eyes cut to the table, and she shook her head as though convincing herself. “At least if we go no further, then we’ll never know what we’re missing. We avoid the pain.”

  I flattened my mouth, my tone turning serious. “I know what I’m missing, Annie. You are singular to me, exceptional. You’re brilliant and adorable and so fucking real. I care about you. And I haven’t been able to get the taste of you, the feel of you, out of my head since we first kissed.”

  Shakily, she withdrew her hand and put it on her lap under the table. She closed her eyes for a second, obviously mustering the courage to say something. The moment was broken when the waitress arrived with our food. Unsurprisingly, I had no appetite whatsoever.

  Annie dug into her sandwich, not meeting my eyes. I took the opportunity to study her. God, she was so beautiful that it was almost a physical sort of torture not to reach out and kiss her. There was something extremely closed off about her today; and disappointingly, I knew a breakthrough wasn’t on the cards, so I decided to let it go for now. I needed to just be content to be spending time with her. Leaning back in my chair, I nudged her foot with mine to get her attention then asked, “Has Joan told you about Dublin?”

  She nodded but didn’t speak, chewing on a bite of sandwich.

  “Are you going to come?”

  Again, all I got was a nod, but it filled my chest with relief. All I needed was this opportunity to get to her, convince her to let her walls down. Once we got to Dublin, I’d have to pull out all the stops.

  She gave me a sad look then, her deep brown eyes downturned. Obviously, spending time with me was painful for her. She wanted me, but she wasn’t going to let herself have me. Her look was like a punch to the gut. I hooked both my feet around hers legs and drew her thighs between mine under the table.

  “Hey, I’ll behave on this trip. I promise. You don’t have to worry.” Lies. Lies. Lies.

  She swallowed, breathing sharply. “Thank you.”

  For the rest of the meal, I kept her legs between mine, but she didn’t tell me to stop. She craved the closeness just as much as I did. We ate in quiet companionship, and then too soon we were saying our goodbyes. I didn’t want to let her go.

  Therefore, before I could think too much about it, I pulled her against me and brush
ed my mouth against hers, just a soft touching of lips, really, a whisper of something. In comparison to our previous kisses, it was extremely tame. But when I leaned away, my eyes hungry for her reaction, I wasn’t disappointed.

  Annie stared up at me, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright, and her hands white-knuckled fists gripping the front of my shirt. It took her a moment to realize that my hold was undemanding, that I’d basically let her go. Remembering herself, she stepped away, gathering an unsteady breath.

  She hesitated.

  I waited.

  Then she shook her head and walked away.

  I watched her go for as long as she was still in view, until she’d turned the corner. It was only Monday, and I couldn’t stand the thought of not seeing her until Thursday. Life was going to be agony.

  ***

  Life was agony, and I was verging on pitiful.

  I filled the days with workouts and spent the rest of my time with Lucy. There was still a bit of a frosty atmosphere between Ma and me. Lucy was completely taken with New York, her blue eyes alight with wonder at every new thing she saw. She even proclaimed that she was going to live here one day, ever the dreamer. But I had no doubt she’d make it happen.

  She went out of her way to cheer me up, every evening presenting me with new gifts like ties and aftershave and novelty socks. When Thursday morning finally came around, Annie texted me saying she’d meet me at the departure gate. I was disappointed because I’d been hoping to share a cab with her to the airport. I said goodbye to Ma and Lucy, who both had one more day in New York before their flight home, then made my way to JFK. It felt like it took forever to get through security, and when I finally did, I spotted Annie sitting by a window watching planes take off and land out on the runway. She was holding a steaming paper coffee cup in both hands, her ever-present mobile phone sitting on her lap.

  She was chewing on her lip when she saw me coming. Not even waiting for me to say hello, she blurted out, “I’ve never been on a plane before.”

  I took the seat beside her, eyebrows raised. “Never?”

  She shook her head. “Never. Any long distances I’ve had to travel have always been by bus or train. I’m kind of terrified.”

  “Do you think you’ll be a nervous flyer?”

  “Honestly, I have no idea.” She sounded distracted.

  “Well,” I said, blowing out a breath, “I’ll just have to keep you occupied, then, so that you aren’t thinking of it. We’ll play some games, like Twenty Questions or I Never. It’ll be fun.” I reached out and softly squeezed her thigh. Her gaze fixed on my hand until I moved it away. We were booked in first class, which was good since Annie had the look of a rabbit caught in the headlights this morning. Trying to be a gentleman, I asked her if she’d like to sit by the window, but she fervently shook her head no.

  I took her hand in mine during takeoff, and she didn’t protest, squeezing her eyes shut the whole time. I watched her closely, ready to calm her at the merest sign of panic. I knew some people went a little bit crazy on airplanes. When she opened her eyes, we were in the air. She glanced past me and out the window.

  “Wow,” she breathed, leaning closer and marveling at the clouds and blue sky beyond. You could see the city drifting away beneath us, the buildings tiny in the distance. She was practically sitting on top of me, but I wasn’t complaining, mainly because her breasts were pushing into my arm. I closed my eyes for a moment, savoring her scent and the comfort of having her so close. For a brief moment, I forgot about our emotional distance and just enjoyed being near her.

  “Sorry,” she said then and drew away.

  I opened my eyes. “No apologies needed, love. You sure you don’t want to sit by the window?”

  Unlike before, now she seemed positively elated by the idea. “Yes, please, if you don’t mind,” she enthused, and I grinned, undoing my seatbelt. Our bodies brushed briefly as we switched seats, and she blushed, keeping her gaze on her shoes. For the next hour, Annie was glued to the window, marveling at the sky. It was probably the most charming thing I’d ever witnessed and made me fall that little bit harder for her.

  I busied myself with a book and let her enjoy her window-seat view.

  Some time elapsed before she got up and excused herself to the bathroom. And yeah, I’m not going to lie, I got a nice look at her arse as she went by me. Today she was wearing jeans and a purple knitted jumper. She didn’t have any makeup on, and her long hair was braided into a side plait. She looked so incredibly natural and fuckable. It was such a sweet torture.

  For several short seconds, I was wracked with indecision. I’d told her I’d behave on this trip, but the temptation to follow her was too much. I rose from my seat, smiling amiably at the air hostess as I passed by and made my way to the restrooms. I waited patiently until Annie was done, and then, just as she was stepping out to leave, I got in her way and moved forward, leaving her no other option but to retreat back inside. A moment later I’d flicked the lock, and we were alone.

  “Hey,” I murmured as she leaned into the sink and I crowded her space. There was no way to not crowd her space; the toilet was the size of a postage stamp.

  She swallowed and moved her lips, drawing my attention to her mouth. It seemed redder and even more plump than usual. Such a temptation.

  “What’s going on?” Annie asked, eyes on my shirt collar rather than my face.

  “I miss you so fucking much,” I said, my words almost choked, pained. I brought my hands to her hips and slid them around her waist then down to her bottom. She sucked in a quick breath before exhaling. When she finally looked up at me, she was flushed—but not from displeasure. Her eyes were practically glowing.

  I drew air in past my teeth before asking, “Oh, Annie, what am I gonna do with you?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The Companion Fake Selfie: When two or more people pretend to be taking a picture together, but are instead taking a picture of a person in the background.

  Best for: Situations where taking a group selfie wouldn’t be unusual/draw attention. This method, unlike the “Creeper Selfie” and “Fake Selfie,” can be used in restaurants. However, caution should be used if the waiter/waitress is overly helpful and might offer to take the picture instead.

  Do not use: Near mirrors.

  *Annie*

  I was hot, and it had nothing to do with my sweater. I was hot because I had a war raging within me. I hadn’t yet reconciled what I knew was safe with what I wanted.

  I miss you so fucking much…. That’s what he’d said.

  He had no idea.

  No. Idea.

  I ached for him, for that fleeting sensation of belonging with him. I ached for being seen and known by him. I ached for our connection, for enjoying him, being with him, listening to him. I ached for how he touched me; his dirty, shocking words; his skilled hands; how he commanded a response from my body with just a look or a whisper.

  I ached for Ronan.

  It was physical, and it was painful; and resisting him felt like being sawed in half with a dull, rusty blade.

  “Ronan.” I shook my head, squeezed my eyes shut; I was trembling. When I spoke next, I wasn’t surprised to hear myself beg, “Please don’t do this. Please…please.”

  I felt him shift, hesitate. I held my breath: waiting, wanting him, and hating myself for being weak and yielding where before I’d always been resilient and constant.

  Eventually I heard Ronan mutter, “Christ, Annie. Come here.” He slid his hands from my bottom to my back and then my shoulders. He pulled me against him, tucking my head under his neck and against his chest. He squeezed.

  He gave me a hug.

  I released an uncontrolled and watery sigh, closer to a choked sob than an exhalation, and wrapped my arms around him, returning his embrace. I buried my face in his neck and held on tightly. I didn’t know how I was going to let him go, both figuratively and literally.

  People who grow up with families, with a guardian or a p
arent or both parents, often take hugs for granted. I could count on one hand the number of times I’d been hugged since my adoptive family returned me to the state. It was the hugs that I missed the most, being held and touched with affection—even if the affection was only skin deep.

  I often wished afterward that I didn’t know what it was like to be held. I wished they’d never hugged me. I resented them for showing me what I was missing. I was growing to resent Ronan for similar reasons, but it was much worse.

  Ronan’s affection for me wasn’t just skin deep. He’d admitted as much to The Socialmedialite. Additionally, if I’d been experiencing any lingering doubts, they were erased when he made his impassioned speech during lunch several days ago, when he offered to leave rugby so we could be together.

  After gaining distance “from the breakfast of spite,” as I’d started calling it, and his mother’s detestable statements (and doing some digging into her past), I realized her claims about Ronan’s fidelity were all lies, misleading half-truths at best, clearly meant to drive a wedge between us.

  Part of me hated that I’d rolled over and given up so easily. But my need for self-preservation endured above all else.

  Ultimately, Ronan’s mother provided the wake-up call I’d needed. I knew it was for the best. Self-preservation demanded that I stay ignorant regarding the workings of a real loving relationship, one based on mutual admiration, respect, and a potentially soul-deep connection.

  I had to be strong. I had to redouble my efforts. I couldn’t bend or yield.

  But first I let myself hold and be held. I’d shared too much. I’d trusted too much. I’d given too much. I’d let him in and allowed myself to think about Ronan and Annie in terms of a “we” and an “us.”

  And I was very afraid that I’d already fallen in love with him.

  ***

  The hotel was beyond swanky, but I was only peripherally aware of its opulence. My eyes were on the marble floor and ornate Kashmir carpets. I was tucked under Ronan’s arm, held close to his chest as he navigated the lobby; I followed him blindly. This was for several reasons.