Overexposed

by Amelia Oliver

  Hearing footsteps, I turn to see another person I didn’t realise I’d missed as much as I had.

  “Piper!” Jackie says warmly as she comes through the door. Hugging me like we’d been apart for years, she kisses my temple and whispers, “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  Taking Seth’s backpack, she gently lobs it on top of the washer, and picks up both my bags. “I’ll take these inside for you. I’ve put your luggage upstairs, so if you want to change before brunch, you’ve got time.”

  “Oooh no, don’t worry about me standing here all injured and shite, you females stick together,” Seth bitches flippantly. “I mean it’s not like I’m weak with hunger and you’re employed to care for my needs or anything…”

  Both of us laughing, Jackie moves back out of the room, and while still not having released my hand, Seth drags me over to the countertop running along the wall.

  “You’ll survive!” Jackie yells back with glee from whatever room she’s disappeared into, while at the same time Seth demands huskily, “Up.”

  Because I can form no other thought, I put my hands behind me and lift my ass on to it. No sooner am I settled and Seth is forcing my knees apart with his hips, his hands moving to cradle my face. As his thumbs sweep across my cheeks, the look in his eyes is intense. So many emotions - desire, hunger, regret, and relief - they are all there and make the pull low in my belly tight with need.

  “I know we have to talk, but if I don’t kiss you in––”

  Enough with the talking, I cut him off by closing the distance between us and tenderly fuse our mouths together. God, I missed his taste, the feel of him against me, and the masculine firmness of his jaw. Because of his face and lip, or maybe in spite of it, we take our time. With slow brushes, teasing licks, and wet presses, we lose ourselves to a kiss that is uniquely ours. No one has ever kissed me the way Seth does, like he was born to do it, and it makes me soft all over. His fingers move into my hair, trailing down the back of my neck and I shiver at the ownership and familiarity of it. My nipples contract to diamond hard points making me moan, while Seth drops one hand from my the back of my neck to press between my shoulder blades. Urging me forward, my tongue flicks against his, my own hands moving to fist in his shirt at his sides to draw him in, too.

  “Ow, ow, bollocks, ow,” Seth breaks our kiss as he flinches under my grip making me snap my hands back like they’re being burned.

  “Shit, sorry! I forgot,” I tell him, both of us breathing hard, our foreheads resting together as we slow our roll.

  “I forget a lot of things around you, Bubble, but I haven’t forgot how much I missed kissing you. C’mon, love, let’s eat.” Dropping a kiss on my forehead, the tip of my nose and my mouth, Seth takes my hand and leads me to the kitchen.

  Do I have any idea what I’m doing? Nope. But somehow, I can’t bring myself to care, because I have a feeling reality will crash down on us soon enough.

  * * *

  “It looks incredible, Jackie, thank you,” I say as I slide my loaded plate on to the bench in front of me and take a stool next to Seth.

  “You’re welcome, honey. Ok, and I’m done, I’ll leave you two to it,” she says looking up at me from her iPad, and exits the room.

  As I’d come into the kitchen, after having quickly run upstairs to change my outfit - because let’s face it by now it had more than done it’s time - Jackie had been adding groceries to her online cart at Sainsbury’s. I’d tried to keep a straight face as Seth not so patiently waited for me to sit while answering Jackie’s every question of, “do we need?” or “would you like?” with either, “don’t know” or “don’t care”.

  The aroma of thick slices of grainy toast, poached eggs, wilted spinach, and crispy pancetta makes my stomach grumble, but before I can pick up my fork, Seth passes me my phone.

  “Huh?” I ask, taking it from him automatically, but not knowing why.

  “Don’t you want to take a picture for your bud? Ah, Cassie? She’s the foodie one, right?” Taking a bite of his own toast and looking down at his plate, Seth misses me having to stop my mouth from hanging open. I’m more surprised than shocked that he still knows my friend’s name, but that he also remembers that detail about her, it means something to me.

  “Yes, Cassie. Thank you.”

  Having taken the picture I slip my phone into the back pocket of my jeans, a move Seth tracks like a hawk – the pervert. We eat quietly, but the silence feels heavy. After only a few bites from my own meal, I notice Seth is mostly pushing his food around on his plate.

  Woman up, Piper – it’s time.

  Trying to keep things easy, I rest my fork on my plate and pick up my coffee cup, “Something on your mind?” I ask, and then take a sip.

  “No.”

  “Must be something. You’re not eating.” I observe, putting down my cup to pick up my toast, taking a nibble. “The physio will be here soon, you should eat a little more.”

  Seth doesn’t respond, just drops his own utensils on his plate, and pushes it away from him. Okaaay.

  “You know, you still haven’t told me how the accident happened,” I remark, biting my toast again before returning it to my plate. I’m hedging around topics, mostly to see if I can get him talking because it could be any number of things weighing on his mind.

  “Sun was in my eyes,” he grumbles and stands up from the counter, moving to refill his teacup.

  Mmhmm, I call bullshit.

  “Seven something in the morning, in rarely sunny London, and the sun was in your eyes? Even I’m not buying that, Seth.” I tell him gently, both of our meals now well and truly forgotten.

  “I was distracted or something. I don’t know, I don’t remember,” he snips, and the feeling he’s intentionally hiding something from me has my hackles rising.

  “You don’t remember?” I scoff, “You can’t even guess wha––”

  “Are you calling me a liar, Piper?” He fires back, his hands on his hips, both hurt and anger in his voice. “Again?”

  I’m a little taken back by how quickly we’ve gotten here, but it was inevitable. The question is, will there be any part of us left once everything is aired out. I’m still in love with him, that’s a given at this point, but I’m not sure it’s going to be enough.

  “No, I’m not. I’m only say––”

  He cuts me off. “You saw the reports, I wasn’t drunk or high, so what? I suppose you think I did it on purpose? That I did it to get attention or something?” he growls.

  My face flushes as his accusation hits me where it hurts. Because for that one fraction of a fraction of a second, it had ran through my mind before I’d just as quickly dismissed it. I know Seth would never do that.

  “Jesus fucking Christ! I was being sarcastic!” Seth shouts. “You do, don’t you? You think that! Fuck!” Running his hands over his face, he curses again when he connects with cuts and bruises. “Ow, fuck it all! Why would I do…no. No. You know what, you mean the fucking world to me, Piper…and it guts me…absolutely fucking rips me apart to know that you still think that little of me! That I would do something so fucked up and self––”

  “Hey, asshole!” I yell back, filled with anger of my own. Jumping off my stool and moving around to his side of the counter, I effectively put an end to his tirade. “Stop shouting at me and let me respond. No, I unequivocally do not think you did it on purpose, and no I do not think that little of you. But I also know that the damn sun wasn’t in your eyes, Seth, which makes me feel like you’re not telling me something. Again!”

  Given we’re facing one another, I catch the moment he glances away. When I see he can’t hold my eyes my throat gets a whopping lump in it, because it’s a sign that confirms I’m right. He does know what distracted him.

  Every emotion we’d been burying is bubbling up, and I ignore the fact that my hands are shaking and my heart is beating too fast from the adrenalin dump. Putting my palm up against the lesser of his mottled cheeks, I make him look at me ag
ain, leaving my hand against his skin. My voice is both apologetic and raw as I continue, “I know I fucked up with how I reacted to the Claudia thing, ok? I know it in a way that for the past six weeks I’ve been just as pissed at myself as I have been at you for leaving.”

  “Bubble…” he says, my pet name sounding both a curse and a plea.

  Tipping my chin up, I keep going, “I went to your house, you know that? When I realised I was wrong. You talk about being gutted, Seth? About feeling as though you don’t mean that much to someone? Well let me tell you, finding out from the stoner removal guy skating in your basement that you’d moved over five fucking thousand miles away, didn’t exactly tickle!” Letting out a shaky breath, I know my eyes are filled with tears as I’m hit with the memory of that day, but I refuse to let them fall. The moment I cry Seth will comfort me, and I’ll let him, and avoidance of this topic will again win the day.

  Neither of us speaks, and for the most part the anger has left the room. But like a match that’s only just been blown out, the ember of it is still glowing hot and more than capable of causing more damage. I go to take my hand away from his face, but he catches it, holding my one hand between the both of his, caressing between my fingers until I open up and he links out hands together.

  “So, no, Seth, I’m not calling you a liar. But I know that you know why you hit the truck, and if the media finds out I need to be read––”

  Annnd, re-ignition.

  Dropping my hand, he takes a step back. “Fuck the media! It’s got nothing to do with them. They can all kiss my arse, every sodding one of them. I don’t give a fuck about them, Piper. I don’t give a fuck about any of it!”

  Seth storms out of the kitchen so I follow, catching sight of him in the long entryway to the front door, heading into a formal sitting room off to the right.

  “Ok, so who does it have to do with?” I ask.

  Whirling on his socked feet, he stares me down, and the look on his face is…I don’t know…but it makes my heart hurt and I take a step towards him, only to have him take a step back. Ouch, that hurt.

  Having moved into this part of his home, the noise coming from the street outside is more obvious to the both of us, and it’s like a commotion of some sort. As we look towards the front windows facing the street, a loud banging starts on the door. I have a really bad feeling about it, but before I can stop him, Seth, who is already much closer to the door than I am, charges ahead, and flings the door open.

  The entire thing happens in slow motion, probably lasting all of thirty seconds, but it feels like hours. The strobing of flashbulbs are blinding, my vision literally changes to only making out dark blurry shapes and white flares. The cacophony of voices shout all at once, washing over us like a violent wave, and my instinct is to cover my ears. And most horrifying of all, standing on the polished concrete step, and looking more vulnerable than I’ve ever seen him, Seth seems to be frozen in place. Moving towards him, I’m focused on getting him back inside, and closing that damn door. I blink a few times, trying to clear my eyes, and see that at the front of the mob is a harried looking guy wearing all white and carrying a folding table strapped across his body. Offering what I think is an apology, the man’s voice is a rough shout, trying to rise above those that are coming from behind him. All I get however is, “I’m so sorry, I’m Dev,” before the countless other things being shouted block out his words and push their way above anything else.

  “Seth, Seth, Seth!”

  “Seth, this way!”

  “Seth, are you drunk?”

  “Seth, is it true you’re addicted to coke?”

  “Seth, are you high now? Throw a punch!”

  “Seth, coppers found drugs in your car, are you a dealer?”

  “Seth, did you do this because the play is shite and you can’t get out of doin’ it?”

  “Seth, are you going into rehab or are you going to jail?”

  “Seth, is it true you left America because you’re broke?”

  So many insulting questions, and all at once. Then, it happens.

  “Seth, who’s the tiny floozy behind you? She a junkie, too? She your dealer?”

  I can’t see him fully because I’m behind him, but I sure as hell can feel the fury coming off him, and it’s building. Fuelling his anger, he starts to unleash a verbal spray of contempt and disgust so venomous it could strip paint from the walls. At the feel of my hand against his back he stops mid-word, his posture relaxing which allows me to grip his shirt, and guide him and the guy I’m assuming is the physiotherapist, inside. He doesn’t fight me. Seth’s eyes meet mine as we switch places, and he looks…crushed? Not thinking anymore about that and concentrating only on the job I need to do, I partially close the door behind me, effectively blocking Seth from their view.

  Tipping my chin up, it’s only my years of media training that keeps my voice steady.

  “Mr. Mitchell would like to thank you all for your kind thoughts and well wishes after his recent accident. He is recovering comfortably and is grateful for you respecting his privacy at this time. There will be no further comment.”

  I’m barely back in the safety of Seth’s home, his door closed and locked behind me, when the man himself wraps me gently in his arms. Careful not to squeeze his bruised ribs too tight, I think we’re both shaking a little as we take comfort in one another. Seth lifts my chin to gently kiss my lips, then whispers against my mouth, “Are you ok?”

  “I’m ok. Are you ok?”

  “No, Bubble, I’m not. But I will be,” he says, and with that barks at a clearly distressed Dev to follow him into the study, leaving me to process everything that just happened.

  Fuck.

  CHAPTER 22

  Jackie

  It’s been a hell of a day that’s for sure, not that anyone would ever assume working for Seth Mitchell was boring. I’ve been through a lot with him, and despite the many times I’ve been disappointed – both in him and for him – the thought of finding other employment has never crossed my mind.

  Before I worked for Seth, I loved celebrity gossip. Lived for it. I’d spend hundreds of dollars a year buying all the magazines, and religiously watching all the entertainment shows. Hungry for any juicy morsel available, I ate it all up. I think, like I had, most people pass it off as a guilty pleasure. I know some even feel like its par for the course, nothing less than the people who choose the life deserve. After six months with him however, actually seeing example after example of the cruel and malicious destructiveness that was hidden behind the stories and glossy pages I loved so much, I gave it up. Today was yet another reminder of why I don’t regret that decision for a single second.

  Entering the kitchen, I decide I’m going to make one of Seth’s favourites for dinner tonight. Roast lamb, brown onion gravy and Yorkshire pudding. Not that he’s got much of an appetite since the accident. Still, comfort food is comfort food, no matter how many bites you have.

  “If I’m in your way, Jackie, I can move,” Piper says surprising me, as I didn’t know she was in here. “I came in here like my mom’s cat, chasing the afternoon sun.”

  I know what she means. Like me, Piper’s blood is Californian, definitely more attuned to warmer climates.

  “Oh, I hear that. Over a month here and I’m still cold. You stay right where you are. I’m just going to make a start on dinner. You keep doing what you’re doing.” I tell her with a smile, before opening the fridge and removing some veggies and the leg of lamb that would be the center of tonight’s meal.

  “Staring into space you mean? No, I think I’ll give that up for the day.” Piper says with a small smile, one that doesn’t reach her eyes.

  She looks tired, could be jet lag, but my money would be on something else. These two lovesick fools need to get their act together and get on the same damn page already. Of course, I don’t say that.

  “Can I help you with anything?” she asks, closing her laptop and packing her work things into a neat stack on top of the
shut lid.

  “Sure, honey.” Even though the meal is simple, I know she needs the distraction. Opening the draw by my hip, I pass her a pair of kitchen scissors. “Here. Snip off a few long sprigs of the rosemary over there, give it a rinse, and then bring them and a large bulb of garlic over to me.”

  Since being here, and having a kitchen with so much sunlight, I’ve been buying living herbs in little pots, keeping them all in a row on the deep window ledge over the sink. As Piper begins her task, I trim the lamb and pull a roasting pan from a draw beneath the oven and set the meat inside.

  “Ok, now what?” Piper asks, eager to help and looking a little livelier than when I’d walked in.

  Passing her a cutting board and a cook’s knife, I give her something to do with her hands. “Strip the rosemary leaves from the woody stalks and give them a rough chop. Keep the tips whole though; we’ll poke those directly into the lamb.” Thank you, Jamie Oliver. “You do that and I’ll peel the garlic.”

  The herbaceous smell of rosemary and garlic wafts up from our boards as Piper and I work in companionable silence. I can see she wants to talk, but I wont pry. Whatever topic Piper wants to discuss, I’ll let her be the one to bring it up.

  And she does.

  “Did Seth tell you what happened, the morning of his accident?”

  He didn’t, not in so much detail anyway, but I don’t need to answer her, because she continues.

  “No, don’t answer that. That wasn’t a fair question, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. I know better. It’s just…he’s so damn frustrating! You know? Argh! Like, I know he’s not telling me something, so we get into it. And I mean, get into it, including some of the stuff with us, from before. But then, next thing, trying to avoid my questions mind you, he walks away from me and right out into that damn mess! Just opens the door, pissed at the world, and boom! Shit storm!”

  “Ahh, Piper, sweetie, I said chopped, not minced.” Putting my hand on hers, the one that’s brutally moving through the rosemary like a food processor stuck on the maximum setting, she drops the knife to the board and leaning a hip against the bench, looks up at me, sheepishly. The look passes quickly though, and she’s off again.