Tempt Me: A First Class Romance Collection

by Hawkins, Jessica

  “I’m Anonymous,” I say.

  “No shit?” Eric asks with an open-mouthed laugh. “Seriously? Anonymous is coming to our wedding?”

  “Well, no,” I say. “I wasn’t planning—”

  “You have to come,” Elyse says. “My girlfriends will die. They’re huge fans of you guys.”

  “As are my friends,” Eric adds with a snicker, then seems to remember Finn is there. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—are you two a couple?”

  “They’ll go ape shit, my friends,” Elyse continues, ignoring her fiancé. “They’ll probably want your autograph. Unless—oh, shit. We can’t tell them who you are, can we?”

  Finally, I turn in my chair to check with Finn. He doesn’t look happy. “Unfortunately, no,” he says. “And Halston actually can’t make it tomorrow night.”

  My excitement falls. After all the ways I’ve supported him, and even all the ways he’s encouraged me, he’s taking this away from me. I turn back to a crestfallen Elyse. “I think I can get out of my plans,” I say. “What would it hurt for a few people to know?”

  “Halston,” Finn says through his teeth. “I need to get some shots of the décor in the front room. Can you help me set them up?”

  “She’s really your assistant?” Eric asks.

  “I admire your willpower,” Elyse says. “If I were Instagram famous, I’d be blasting that shit everywhere.”

  My body thrills from fingertips to toes. Famous. Us. Are we? I hadn’t even considered we might be, but then again, we’re going to hit a hundred-thousand followers tomorrow. Last I checked, we were only five hundred away. I’ve been keeping the sexiest photo we have as our ace in the hole. My pink lips, wrapped around Ken’s thumb while his other hand fists my hair. Once I post it, I know we’ll hit our goal. We have to.

  “Hals? Need your help.” Finn puts a hand on my shoulder. “And yes, we’re together. She’s my girlfriend.”

  It takes me a second to realize he’s talking to Eric.

  “Oh.” Eric nods. “I figured.”

  Elyse claps her hands in the following silence. “Go get your shot, then we’ll do dessert. The bakery made us something special for tonight, so I want to get a few pictures of it.”

  “Of course,” Finn says. “We’ll only be a minute.”

  Finn helps me scoot out from under the table. I pick up his camera bag, putting it over my shoulder. He waits for me to walk through the glass doors of the dining room and into the restaurant’s dim entryway. Tiny tea lights illuminate the area, and Eric and Elyse’s guestbook sits open on a pedestal. Other than that, I don’t see much decoration.

  “What was that?” Finn asks.

  “I know. Incredible, right?” It isn’t what he means, but he has to be excited about this too. Just a little. We’ve worked hard to get here. I should be able to enjoy our success with him, not from the shadows.

  “We decided revealing your identity wasn’t a good idea.”

  I turn my back to the floor-to-ceiling glass looking into the dining room. I don’t want to be watching a bunch of happy people while we argue. “You decided that. It’s only two people.”

  “And their friends who’ll be there tomorrow night. You know Elyse is going to tell—that isn’t the point. You did something I asked you not to.”

  My throat closes. That sounds familiar. Too familiar. My fingertips tingle, like they’re trying to warn me. Since when does Finn order me around? Have I made the same mistake with him as I did two years ago with Rich? Do I subconsciously choose my father on purpose? “I’ve done everything else you’ve asked,” I say. “You wanted my words, I gave them to you. You told me to stay anonymous, I agreed. You wanted me, I broke up with my boyfriend.”

  Finn’s eyebrows shoot to the middle of his forehead. The shadows on his face make him look angrier than he is—or at least, I hope so. “I don’t even know where to start with that. How did I tell you to stay anonymous?”

  “You suggested I keep my identity hidden.”

  “Only because you wouldn’t let me use your journal otherwise.”

  My last few gulps of wine are kicking in. I don’t remember the specifics of that conversation right now, but I do know I never would’ve gone down this path if not for him. And now he’s acting as though I’m just some model like Eric thought I was. It dawns on me that maybe Finn wants me be to that. “Do you not want people knowing who I am?” I ask.

  “We’ve covered this.” He glances over my head. “People are looking over. We’re making a scene.”

  I reel back, crossing my arms. “Is it because I’ll get the credit I deserve?”

  Finn’s nostrils flare. “Are you seriously suggesting, after months of trying to get you to see your worth, that I don’t want you to succeed?”

  That’s one explanation, but another possibility hits me right in the chest. What if Finn’s coaching hasn’t been entirely innocent? Maybe he recognized early on that he needed me for this business to work. If I come out, he’ll be the one in the shadows, or at least forced to share the spotlight.

  Oh God.

  I need something, and I need it right now. Anything. Coffee, cigarettes, wine, I don’t care. This edge is too sharp for me to balance on without something to dull it.

  “This isn’t the time for this conversation,” Finn says. “But you bet your ass we’ll pick it up as soon as we get home.”

  “Fine.” I start to turn. “I’ll be outside.”

  “No. It’s cold, and I’m afraid you’ll take off. Stay and be mad, but don’t go without talking to me first.” He squints at me. “And maybe take it easy on the wine, all right? You know I don’t care if you drink, but we are working.”

  He goes back inside. That’s such a Dad move—tell me what not to do, then walk away before I can argue my point. Is it me? Do I bring out that side of men, turn them into domineering assholes? That’s what Dad and Rich and Doctor Lumby have been telling me all along, isn’t it? That I need to be on meds for myself and the people who love me?

  I’m not even allowed to go outside by myself for fuck’s sake. I should leave. It’d serve him right. But that afternoon I ran away from the museum, nothing felt right. I walked for hours, sick over how I’d thrown a tantrum and run away. I needed that alone time, like I do now, but I didn’t handle it right.

  Taking a lungful of air, I go back into the restaurant. Elyse leads Finn to the kitchen, presumably to photograph a pastry. He glances over his shoulder, and we meet eyes right before he passes through the swinging aluminum doors. I’m glad, because I don’t want him to see how I’m unraveling. I head straight for the restaurant’s bar. Fortunately, it’s off to the side, somewhat separated from the main dining area.

  The bartender tosses a coaster in front of me. “What can I get you?”

  “Anything. I was drinking Pinot Noir over there.”

  “You with the wedding party?” he asks, getting a wineglass from the back of the bar.

  “Sort of. Photographer’s assistant.” In a way, that’s what I am. “Any chance you have a cigarette? I’ll pay you for it.”

  He laughs. “You must be desperate. I’ll get you one.”

  I drink my wine. My mind buzzes from our argument. Finn knew me before he even met me. How many couples can say that? Did we move too fast, thinking we were invincible because we were meant to be? It was exciting, exhilarating—fucking and sharing feelings day in and day out while I led a double life. At work, I was a version of myself, but to Finn, I was just me.

  I wonder—who said it was even a good thing to be your true self? To have no boundaries with or secrets from the person you love? Isn’t that dangerous? I thought diving in headfirst was romantic. Thrilling. Looking back, I should’ve been more wary of the red flag, like when Finn threatened to delete the account if I didn’t stop going through the messages and comments. And he was so insistent Ken sign a non-disclosure. I thought he was protecting me, but what if he’s been monitoring what I see and who sees me?

  That’
s not all.

  Even after a few months together, he continues to pretend Marissa doesn’t exist in our relationship. I barely know a thing about her. And, he has access to my finances, but I know nothing about his other than what he’s told me. He didn’t trust me about the birth control until three months into our relationship.

  I rationalized all of it. Love is blind, they say, and it’s true. Being madly, deeply in love is like allowing the sun to blind you just because it also keeps you warm.

  “Another?” the bartender asks. I look up. I’ve finished my glass. He passes me a cigarette and a book of matches.

  I shouldn’t. I feel good, though. Angry and hurt, but also lightweight, nice. Blunted like a pencil that’s been pressed to the page too hard. “Sure. I’m just going to run out and smoke.”

  He nods, and I pass back through the dining room to the exit. I don’t see Finn, but I’ll only be a minute. Outside, cold air nips at me as I light the cigarette. I take my first drag and manage not to cough. I don’t like smoking, but sometimes it feels just right, like now, when it goes straight to my head.

  I get out my phone. Seeing the numbers rise—followers, likes, comments—it soothes me. It makes me somebody worth listening to and looking at and that’s hard evidence nobody can take from me. I was saving our last photo for tomorrow, but I decide to post it now. So we’ll hit our goal a day early—even better. It probably won’t technically happen until after midnight, and then I can show it to Finn in the morning for his birthday.

  The app takes a few seconds to load before it crashes. I open it again, and the login page pops up, even though I never sign out—I haven’t even used my own account in months. I type in our username and password, but I get an error message, so I try twice more in case the alcohol’s making my fingers fat. It’s not that, though. The password’s wrong. I haven’t had to use it in a while, but I would never forget halstondecember.

  Did Finn change it?

  My hand begins to shake. I try halstonjanuary, halstonfebruary, and finally halstonmarch.

  Nothing. I was online in the cab on the way over here, so I know it worked before dinner. Which means . . .

  He locked me out—of our account.

  I’m not sure I really believe Finn doesn’t want to share credit with me, but here’s my proof. He’s gone out of his way to make sure I don’t reveal my identity tonight.

  Nearly vibrating, I shove my phone in my purse and stamp out the cigarette. Whipping open the door to the restaurant, I head for the dining room. My eyes laser onto Finn near the bar, where he’s talking to the bartender. Probably trying to find me so he can tell me how to live my life just like everyone else. But it’s far worse when he does it. At least Rich and my dad didn’t pretend to be something else to get me to trust them.

  “What did you do?” I ask, my heels clicking the wood floor faster and faster.

  Finn turns around. “It’s just temporary, until—”

  “So it’s true? You changed the password?”

  He glances behind me. “Only to prevent you from making an irreversible mistake.”

  “A mistake.” The word makes me shudder. “Don’t you realize that makes you sound just like them?”

  His face falls. He doesn’t need me to elaborate. He knows the them I’m referring to. “I’m not trying to hurt you,” he says. “This is for your own protection.”

  I snort. “My dad thinks I can’t take care of myself. Is that what you think too? That I need to be monitored and manipulated and closed out of something I built.”

  “Of course not.” His eyes dart over my head. “Please, Hals. They can hear us.”

  “You know how important this is to me.”

  He steps forward. “And that’s why I’m trying to keep you from ruining it. If you go public, it changes everything. People know who you are and how to find you. People will be looking at you.”

  “Newsflash: they’ve been looking at me. You didn’t seem to mind when praise for your work was filling up your inbox.”

  “That’s because right now, you’re a fantasy to them,” he says, his voice rising, “and if you take that away, you’re just you, my girlfriend, my Halston, on display. It’s not safe, and it’s not happening.”

  “I don’t need you to protect me. That didn’t work out so well for Rich, did it? Is that what you’re doing? Saving me from myself?”

  “I’m the opposite of them.” He sounds strangled. “I’ve tried to be everything to you they’re not, to give you what they can’t. I’m not them.”

  “No. You’re worse.” Tears fill my eyes, and I steady myself on a barstool. “You pretended to care. You lifted me up to get what you wanted—for what? Your career? Was it even an accident, running into you at the coffee shop that day? Or did you follow me there like you did to the art gallery, so you could convince me to do this with you?”

  “I . . . that isn’t the reason, but—” He grabs his hair in a fist. “It wasn’t an accident. I was waiting for you.”

  I turn around.

  “Not because I wanted your journal . . . I mean, I did, but not for this—” He calls after me. “Where are you going?”

  My chest hurts. He was supposed to be my everything. My rock, my soul mate. I trusted him. “Away from you.”

  “I told—no, I asked you not to take off.” He follows me through the restaurant. He was right, the guests heard everything. They’re silent as we pass through. “I don’t know how to reason with you without coming off like your dad,” he says. “I’ve been walking on eggshells since we met, trying not to come off like him, but you know what I think? Maybe you haven’t been completely fair to him. You’re not being fair to me.”

  Siding with my dad, just like Rich. I really fucked up, thinking this relationship was any different. Even if Rich tried to keep me in a box, at least he didn’t pretend he wasn’t doing that.

  I want to see him.

  The thought surprises me, but it’s true. I want to see Rich right now—as a friend. I don’t have many of those, and Rich was my closest one for two years. For all his faults, he’s always been there when I needed him. My dad lives an hour away and if I show up drunk to his house, he’ll never let me live it down.

  I exit the building to hail a cab.

  “You’re going home, right?” Finn asks behind me.

  “I don’t want to go back to that fucking apartment. I feel like I’ve been cooped up there for months.”

  “I thought you were happy there.” The hurt in his voice is evident, but then he speaks again. “I don’t think you should go out. I’m sorry, I know saying this won’t make things easier, but you don’t need to drink any more tonight.”

  As a cab pulls over, I whirl on Finn. I want to lock him out the way he did to me, except that I have no control over anything in our business. That’s not true for our relationship, though. I want to hurt him. “I’ll go home when I feel like it. I’ll drink what I want, talk to who I want, post what I want.” My hands are in two tight fists. “I need you to change the password back.”

  His tie is crooked, his honey-colored hair disheveled, but he looks nothing less than gorgeous and perfect. “No.”

  “It’s my business too.”

  “You can’t make such a huge decision while you’re in this state.”

  “Change it back. Tonight.” I open the door to the cab’s backseat. “We’re this close to our goal—”

  “I don’t give a shit about that,” he cries, taking my elbow to pull me from the car. “Who gives a fuck how many followers we have?”

  “I do,” I say through a film of tears. “You made me care. You pushed me to do this, and now you’re trying to make me feel stupid for wanting it.”

  “I never pushed you, Hals, and I’m not trying to make you feel stupid. I’m saying that’s not important right now—”

  “To you. Let me go.”

  “To us. And no.”

  “You know what’s important to me?” I shove my palms into his chest, a
nd he releases me but doesn’t budge. “You think you know better?” I ask.

  “No.”

  I try to take a deep breath, but I can’t catch one. “Why don’t you just put me back on the fucking drugs? What made me think you’d accept me like this?” I push him again, and he grabs my wrists. “Is this what you signed up for? A crazy person? Is it?”

  He spins me around to hug me from behind. “This isn’t you,” he says, his hands cold and firm as they keep me in place. “You’re somewhere else right now. Come back to me, Hals.”

  My heart pounds a mile a minute. I should’ve done this months ago, before I fell so hard. I knew deep down—nobody wants someone like me. I’m troubled. I make bad decisions. “This is me. Let go.”

  “No.”

  “You can’t handle me. Nobody can, and maybe I’m better off without any of you. Let go of me.”

  “No. I’m not letting you go. You can fight me all you want, but I love you.”

  “I’m going to Rich.” It just comes out.

  After a few tense moments, he releases me all at once, like I’ve burnt him. “What?”

  I stay where I am, back to him as I try to breathe. “I have to process all this—away from you. I’m going to see Rich, my friend, because that’s what I need right now.”

  “If you go there, we’re done.”

  I get in the backseat of the cab and shut the door, but the passenger’s side window is open.

  “I can forgive you anything,” Finn says, “the scene you just made, overdrinking when I warned you not to, telling the people who hired me to do a job something so personal about us. But not this.”

  I swipe my tears away. On some level, now that the thrill of our relationship is wearing off, I’m sure this is what he wants. But Finn’s too softhearted to leave someone who isn’t stable, someone who needs him like I do. Someone who’s obsessed with him. Sometimes he needs a push. This is best for both of us.