Cross your Heart

by Haley Jenner

  “Reid. Fuck. You can’t do that here.”

  “Do what? Touch you?”

  “Yeah,” I grit.

  The flirty gleam in his eyes disappears within seconds, replaced with insecurity and a dent to his pride that seems out of place on his otherwise detached demeanor.

  “Why?” he debates, voice raised in disbelief.

  “What do you mean why? We’re in public, Reid.” I glance around, hoping like hell that conniving ears aren’t eagerly drinking up our drama.

  You’d think my hand had connected with the unshaven pad of his cheek, the look of complete shock dropping his jaw. “You don’t want to be seen with me?”

  I straighten my shoulders. “Not like that, no.”

  “Wow.” He laughs, the sound bitter and unpleasant. “Never imagined I’d be anyone’s dirty little secret.”

  “That’s more than a little arbitrary.”

  “Still using that word of the day calendar, I see,” he quips, downing his whiskey in one neat swallow.

  “You know what, Reid?” I step closer, lowering my voice. “You’re being an asshole.”

  “No, Rox, you are.”

  Anger spikes dangerously in my stomach. His arrogance is incurable. I want to shake him, but giving over to that beast inside of me will only feed into the world’s opinion of who I am. Reckless. Misguided. Stupid. I inhale heavily through my nose, forcing a trap around the fire of fury burning deep inside.

  “You just don’t get it,” I speak through clenched teeth. “This isn’t about you. It’s about me.”

  He blinks. “Seems it’s a common roadblock in our friendship, in our relationship, whatever that is.”

  “You’re being horrible.”

  His shoulders lift in scorn. “You’re the one shutting me out for self-preservation.”

  I laugh. “That’s rich,” I accuse. “Coming from you. You cut me the fuck out for ten years to save yourself. You forced me back into your life because you needed my help, not me. Don’t paint yourself as the victim and the hero all in one. You don’t get to be the defeated and the triumphant.”

  Disdain twists unattractively across his features.

  “For once, Reid, take a step back. Look at this from my perspective. I received death threats for starring in this movie with you. God forbid my disgusting self be linked to Hollywood’s most eligible bachelor, even in fiction. I don’t need to throw gasoline on that fire because your dick has decided I won’t sell my story of how you fuck to the media.”

  “Is that what you think?” he whispers. “That you’re convenient?”

  I shrug. “You ran at the thought of me once upon a time. Why is now any different?”

  His head shakes. “I thought we’d grown up. Unfortunately, I was wrong about you.”

  “I’m gonna make like you right now and walk away.”

  Tongue pressed deep into his cheek he nods. “Nice.”

  I turn around, storming off in search of Brooke.

  “Roxy,” she calls out, patting the space on the couch beside her. “Come, sit.”

  “Okay, Roxy-Roo?” Ari tests, glancing at Reid and back to me.

  “Yeah,” I urge, the lie like acid on my tongue. “Good turn out.” I gesture to the building crowd.

  Ari lifts a shoulder lazily. “Offer free booze and people trample over themselves to gain access. I also know like a third of these people, my publicist invited most of them. For what, I have no idea. Who would want to go to a birthday party of someone they don’t know from a bar of soap.”

  “I don’t know you,” Brooke quips.

  “Yeah, but you’re friends with Roxy. That’s different. It’s like your sister coming.”

  “My sister would definitely come,” Brooke responds.

  “Anyway,” Ari sighs. “You guys are here, that’s all that matters.”

  “Well, well, well.” The soft English accent sends knives up my spine.

  Twisting slowly, I look up at the tortured musician that put his best foot into sabotaging my career.

  “Roxy Monroe.” He speaks the Queen’s English, an educated twang to his pronunciation that isn’t just out of character, it’s absurd.

  “Damian,” I greet, hostility seeping from my pores.

  He shivers. “Still testy, I see.”

  “You piece of shit.” Brooke stands, throwing her drink over his face. “You have a lot of nerve showing up here.”

  He smiles, wiping tequila from his face. “Brooke, a pleasure,” he cuts out, “as always.”

  Ari watching the exchange, stands, placing himself between Brooke and my ex. “Do I know you?”

  “It depends if you’re into grunge rock, mate. Damian Harrington.” He extends a hand.

  Ari looks at it for a beat before lifting his head to meet Damian’s eyes. “Seems like you’re not welcome. Appreciate it if you could escort yourself out.”

  Damian, rocking back on his heels, laughs loudly. “Now, that’s an appropriate way to welcome your guests.”

  “No guest of mine, mate.”

  “You two fucking?” Damian’s eyes fall to me. “She’s not a bad shag, is she, Hart?”

  Hand against his chest, Ari pushes him backward. Falling into the couch behind him, Damian chuckles, pushing himself up again.

  “Get the fuck out.” Caught up in my panic over Damian’s appearance I didn’t notice Reid’s approach.

  He looks unhinged. A poisonous cocktail of fury and alcohol flexing at his fists.

  We’ve gathered an audience. Conversations drifting off into nothing as greedy eyes watch the drama from the sidelines. Celebrities aren’t immune to the spectacle. Camera phones are out, recording yet another stumble for Roxy Monroe.

  “Reid Rivere!” Damian bellows jovially. “It all makes sense now, you two” —he gestures between Reid and I— “always wondered why she followed your career so heavily, she wanted you to fuck her. Shame you didn’t take that cherry, friend. You saw her little video no doubt, moaning my name, sweet cunt on her.”

  Reid’s fist connects with Damian’s nose on a loud and deafening crack.

  Blood decorating his face and teeth, Damian smiles wildly. He’s high. There’s no doubt.

  “Reid.” I grab his shoulder. “Stop!”

  Shaking me off, he moves toward Damian again, but this time he’s ready, landing a swift jab into Reid’s gut before connecting his knee to his face.

  Turning on my heel, I move quickly from the two men rolling around on the ground like fifth-grade boys.

  “Rox,” Brooke yells, following close behind.

  “You okay?”

  “No,” I snap. “He’s just all but signed me another tabloid spread.”

  “Who?” she asks quietly. “Damian or Reid?”

  “Both of them,” I spit. “But I expected it from Damian, he’s done it before. I confided in Reid and he’s all but thrown it in my face. He’s fucking my career, just like Damian did, only he’s playing the hero while he does it.”

  “I don’t think he did it on purpose. I wanted to punch him in the face, too.”

  I stop walking, turning back to her on a sigh. “I don’t want him to be my hero, Brooke. I needed him to be my friend.”

  She looks to her feet. “I think friendship isn’t what he sees between you. Feelings cause people to act stupidly to protect the ones they love.”

  “Well, I need someone who puts me before their ego.”

  Twenty

  Take Two

  Reid

  Zara welcomes me into her home with an affectionate hug. “It’s good to see you, Reid. What’s it been, ten or eleven years?”

  “Something like that.” I return her embrace.

  “Come.” She gestures me into the house. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “All good, thanks, Zara.”

  Zara Monroe is Roxy thirty years from now. In looks, in personality. It’s like looking down an aging telescope, watching the blonde girl who spat on her hand more than eighte
en years ago move into her mid-to-late-fifties.

  Ushering me into the lounge room, I wait for her to take a seat before sitting myself.

  “She won’t answer my calls.”

  Sighing, Zara folds her hands into her lap.

  “We wrapped up filming over three weeks ago and she hasn’t spoken a single word to me. Even during shooting for that last few weeks she only spoke to me in character.”

  “Can you blame her?”

  I groan. “I didn’t mean for all that shit to happen. He was there, and he was running his mouth,” I gripe.

  “Reid,” she stops me. “I don’t blame you for what you did. Shoot, I wish I could’ve done it. That guy single-handedly almost ruined my baby. But getting technical, he was a guy with a bruised ego who lashed out in anger. You let your ego control the situation, Reid. Just like Damian.”

  I draw a steady breath through my nose. “That stupid fight was everywhere.”

  “Mm,” she agrees. “All focused on Roxy and how she caused two grown men to lose their shit. She’s tired of being the court jester of Hollywood. She finally saw a light with this movie,” she confides. “And whether you meant to or not, you stripped that from her.”

  “Did she tell you that we’ve…” I trail off, not entirely sure how to put it.

  “Been sleeping together? Yes.”

  “I don’t know what to do,” I confess. “It isn’t just physical for me. I have feelings for her, feelings I never imagined I would. I have no idea what they mean, but I do know I want to explore them.”

  “You should be telling her this, Reid,” she says. “Not me.”

  “She won’t talk to me,” I bite out, my frustration getting the better of me.

  “I won’t betray my daughters trust by telling you where she is. But it’s eight o’clock at night, I always found you guys did your best thinking at the playground.”

  I stand quickly. “Thanks, Zara.” I kiss her cheek.

  “Reid,” she yells out. “Two things. One, thank you for teaching that piece of shit a lesson,” she grins. “I’m glad you two found one another again. I always knew you’d do your best to protect her. Not that she needed it, but it’s nice all the same.”

  “And the second thing?”

  “You broke my daughter’s heart once before. I forgave you because you were eighteen and unaware. Don’t do it again.”

  Knuckles knocking against the wall, I nod. “Don’t plan on it.”

  I spot her before she does me, taking the few seconds to watch her swing back and forth slowly on the swing, feet dragging in the sand beneath her feet.

  She looks sad, her shoulders slumped in despondence. It causes me pain to think I put her here, in this moment of regret and dejection.

  “It’s rude to stare,” she speaks quietly, not to disturb the still air around her.

  She still hasn’t looked at me, eyes trained up at the spatter of stars in the sky.

  I move toward her, dropping on the swing beside her, feet pushing along the ground to rock me back and forth in time with her.

  “I’m sorry.” It seems like the only thing to say. The only words that matter.

  Feet pressing flat against the sand, she stops, neck twisting to finally look at me. “For what exactly?”

  “Everything,” I answer without delay.

  Her mismatched eyes glitter in the moonlight.

  “I’m sorry for walking away from you when we were eighteen because I was afraid of your feelings. I’m sorry for staying away for ten years. I’m sorry for not asking you directly to be a part of Firefly. I’m sorry for doubting you. I’m sorry for hating you. I’m sorry for not being able to see past my own ego to hear what you were saying. I’m sorry for everything,” I repeat quietly.

  “I forgive you.”

  As softly as the words are spoken, I know they’re genuine.

  “I’m sorry, too.”

  I look at her, nodding easily, accepting her apology without a second thought.

  “I’m sorry for breaking my promise and being ruled by my heart. I’m sorry for staying away for ten years. I’m sorry for thinking you’d want to play games with me or for thinking you would be capable of purposely leaking my past. I’m sorry I’m scared, and I’m really sorry that I can’t change that at this point.”

  “What are you afraid of?”

  Turning her face back to the sky, she pushes off her feet again, the screech of the chain in her swing echoing into the darkness of the night. “I’m petrified of this horribly, judgmental world we live in. I wasn’t lying when I said I receive death threats for being linked to you. Not that I’m afraid for my life, I just… I’m tired of all the hate. It’s exhausting. Reid, I’m scared of being seen. I’d like to be invisible for a while.”

  Her tone is quietly dreamy, a smile on her voice as she finishes speaking.

  “And being with you publicly doesn’t offer me invisibility. Quite the opposite,” she adds regretfully.

  “What about the movie?” I ask. “Publicity for that, are you gonna disappear into the shadows?”

  “No,” she answers immediately. “That’s being seen for the right reasons.”

  “And I’m not right?”

  Pushing off the ground heavier, her swing soars into the air, flying back and forth through the cool air. “I didn’t say that.” She speaks louder. “I know I nailed that role. So if people want to slam me for my performance in Firefly, I know they’re talking shit.”

  Standing on the rubber seat of my swing, I edge back and forth, gaining momentum.

  “You though, I don’t know if we’re right. Maybe I don’t deserve you. Or maybe you don’t deserve me. I want to be able to figure that out without requests for me to kill myself or hate mail about how ugly I am.”

  “You can’t believe you’re not beautiful?”

  She shrugs. “Beauty is individual. You may think I’m beautiful while others think I’m hideous. I’m happy with the way I look. I know I have a good heart. I just hate my worth being measured against whether my looks are worthy enough of you.”

  What a world we live in. One where complete strangers find it acceptable to pull another person’s self-worth into the gutter. No wonder our world is so drowned in hate and violence. We find it so easy to spew words dripping with malice. The world has forgotten the beauty in a compliment, how easily it can turn someone’s day around.

  “Where does that leave us?” I question. “I like you, Roxy. A lot and not just the way a friend cares for another. I miss you when you’re not around. I crave the sound of your voice and the way you smell. I knew you once upon a time. I want to know you today.”

  I see the pearl of her smile.

  “I like you, too. If you’re okay with it, I’d like to explore us in quiet. Not with the world as our audience.”

  “And not because I’m ashamed or embarrassed by you or the feelings we have,” she continues when I say nothing. “But because for the first time in a long time, I want to enjoy this without public opinion or interference. Is that too much to ask?”

  Jumping from the swing, I stand in front of her. “Walk with me.”

  She follows without argument, her shoulder brushing against mine.

  “We’re doing what we promised one another we’d never do.”

  She looks up at me confused.

  “We’re asking each other to do something we don’t want to do. Our most important rule.”

  “I disagree.” She spins around a lamp-post, coming up behind me to jump on my back.

  “Jesus, Firefly,” I grunt. “Throw us a warning next time.”

  Arms over my shoulders, she drops her chin to the top of my head. “It’s not forever, Reid.”

  Stopping, I lean back, and she slides off my back. I turn to face her, watching her closely. Drawing my palm to my mouth, I spit in it, holding my hand out to her.

  She laughs, copying the move.

  “Cross your heart?”

  “Cross my heart.” She place
s her hand in mine.

  Twenty-One

  Take Two

  Reid

  “Did you watch it?” she asks hesitantly.

  “What? This?” I point to the screen where a grey-scaled Humphrey Bogart is drinking his sorrows away. “Did I watch Casablanca without you?”

  “No.” She pushes my shoulder in exasperation. Pausing the movie, she turns to me, a curious panic flicking through her eyes. “Did you watch it?”

  “No, Rox,” I answer honestly. “I didn’t watch it.”

  Relief falls over her, the rod in her spine releasing, the weight of the world shifting away.

  “Why?” she tests, cautiously curious.

  I shrug. “It was private. Watching it would’ve been an invasion of your privacy. Plus, it would’ve been creepy watching something that you never intended for my eyes.”

  Leaning forward, her lips bracket mine, sucking on my bottom lip lightly before she caresses it in a soft kiss.

  Lifting the bowl of popcorn between us, I reach behind me, sliding it onto the bedside table. It bumps the lamp, making it fall to the ground with a heavy crash.

  Hands gripping her face, I let my mouth attack hers.

  “Thank you.” She breaks the kiss, sliding her leg over my waist to straddle my hips.

  Hands skimming up her shirt, I brush along the silky touch of her stomach. “For what?”

  “For being you.”

  A breath of time passes, our eyes anchoring us to one another in a way we’d long forgotten about.

  Reid and Roxy.

  Roxy and Reid.

  Two wholes of an undeniable set.

  One doesn’t exist without the other. Not comfortably.

  We’ve spent the last decade in a state of limbo, searching for our own resolution. But our worlds were always meant to be connected. Reconnecting with Roxy has done nothing but solidify that in my mind. Life just doesn’t make sense without her at my side.

  Her hands lift slowly, taking the hem of her shirt with her.

  “I really dig this whole no-bra thing you’ve got going on,” I compliment, watching the material drop to the floor in a disregard.