by Xavier Neal
Turning so my shoulder is leaning against the wall I ask, “What do you mean?”
Gianna takes a deep breath, bracing herself to answer, “I used to be a model.”
“Really?”
“Really. Really. My father knows the who’s who of the business, and so if I had a dream, it came true. I modeled for a few years, just mainstream basics, suggestive tops, jeans, swimsuits, but I got caught up in trying to stay thin and fit in. Basically fell into the whole model cliché, which isn’t what my parents wanted, so they cut me off. They took me out of the world I loved, the world I had grown to understand, the world that had basically become me, and threw me into teen...hood...or whatever the hell this nightmare is.”
I fucking know that feeling better than anyone else. Being stuck growing up faster than you can handle. Ditching basketballs games for trips to the ER with your dying parent. Skipping prom to change diapers. Lying about the vacation you took during Spring Break because you're ashamed your lights were cut off for most of the week. Yeah. It's safe to say I understand this girl on a whole other level. Part of me is thankful for that. It'll make it easier for her to get me someday. Wait. What am I saying? That's not gonna happen.
“I know that's not easy.”
“Are you kidding? It was a breeze,” her sarcasm makes me smirk as she smirks at me. “When it all came crashing down, we were still living primarily in New York, so I stayed in the same amount of trouble. My friends and I all had mommy and daddy’s money to cover up the mistakes, so why care? Why stop running my life into the ground if they’re just going to bail me out, you know?”
My head shakes side to side, “No. Not at all.” Her body turns to mimic mine. “I don’t know at all what that’s like. There’s no one to take care of my mistakes, but me, and that’s dumb if that’s your excuse for doing stupid shit. I mean did you even enjoy any of it?”
“Occasionally.”
“Occasionally? You mean to tell me you literally just did it to do it? That's fucking stupid.”
“What’s fucking stupid is the fact I couldn’t realize that faster, before I was relocated every thirty seconds because I couldn’t stop! I had to go to rehab in order to stop!” Suddenly I feel like a dick. Uncomfortable with how quick I was to jump down her throat I scratch the back of my neck. I know better than to judge anyone else like that. Look at my life. “I was in and out of rehab for almost eight months! Moving here is the last resort. When I finally finished a program, they moved me here, to this weird ass, soul sucking, suicide place known as suburbia, and told me if I so much as looked at another drug they’d ship me off. My father has pulled every string in the book to keep his name clean by keeping my name clean and it has cost him a fortune, not to mention his hair. One wrong move and I’m gone. So I don’t have any friends. No friends means no temptation. No friends means no one can judge me for the shit I’ve done. I’m running from my past. I don’t ever try to face it and blame myself for what happened. In my house we never talk about what happened. Everyone pretends it never did, so I’m running. Sprinting. Sprinting from the reality of the fact I’ve destroyed my life and don’t know how to pick up the pieces.”
Knowing that exact feeling has me wanting to do something that I know I shouldn't. But that's the story of my entire life now. Avoiding things I shouldn't. Not wanting anything because it's not right. Because Mak should be the only thing I focus on. And she is. She always will be. I'd rather die than let Mak not feel like she matters to me, but does that mean I can't, even for a moment, just have something for me? Can't having a friend, one who has no one else, be an okay thing?
I push past the nagging feeling that this is the wrong decision and wrap my arms around Gianna tightly. Her arms fling around me as her head hits my chest, soft sobs vibrating her chest against mine.
“There.” She sniffles louder. “There’s my sob story.” How is it that what lies underneath that bitchy exterior is sexier and sweeter than what I was imaging? “But don’t tell okay?”
“I won’t,” I sigh as she squeezes me tighter. Lost in the sensation of having a girl in my arms, I let my eyes drift closed. God, it's been so long since...well since I've even let myself touch someone like this. I know you can't get someone pregnant from hugging them, but still. My fingers softly stroke her back thankful that even if this is the only contact I get to have with the opposite sex for another couple years, that at least I got it. And at least it's with her. “It's our secret Gianna.”
Chapter 7
Over the next couple of weeks in theater, Gianna and I grow closer and closer, which isn't the best idea I know, but I can't seem to help it. There's just something about her. Sometimes it's the things she says that I think no one else ever felt but me. Sometimes it's the way we laugh together like it's just us in the world. Sometimes it's just the way we argue until we're damn near ready to kill each other. Those are the times that worry me. Most of them end with us fuming and a little something unexplainable will happen to break the tension. To force us back to neutral ground. It feels like some outside force trying to keep us on the same path. Dad would say that's what happens when you have faith in life. It'll take you exactly where you really wanna go. Problem is, other than being a great dad to Mak, I'm not sure where that is. An actor would be an amazing path but there's not enough stability there in the long run....but who knows? Maybe something in that field. Maybe not. I gotta graduate first. That's one path I know for sure.
As we take the stage, laughing about something that happened to her in English, she drops her bag and smiles proudly. “You know, I know all my lines now. Script free.”
“Really?” I ask, excited that maybe we’ll actually make more progress. “That’s awesome.”
“Proud?”
“Definitely.”
She giggles while the sound of her brown leather knee high boots echos in the auditorium as she crosses the stage. “I’m ready now. I’m ready to start working scene by scene. So, director...” Gianna bites her bottom lip, hands seductively falling to her hips, “Whatever you want, wherever you want is fine by me.”
The invitation for something my dick hasn't had in years has me needing a moment to gain my composure. Tempting doesn't even start to describe the level my feelings are on. I've been so caught up in reveries of her that it's taking longer to do my homework at night not to mention how many nights I've lost sleep over fantasizing about what I wanna do to her and with her. Nothing better to will away the urge to whack it like your two year old landing her tiny balled up fist in your ribs.
I shed my leather jacket and adjust my t-shirt noticing the long intense stare she has with every movement I make. No. No. Friends. We can only be friends. And even that is stretching my limits beyond points of comfort.
Clearing my throat in hopes of regaining our focus, I approach her, “Let’s take it from the scene where you’re trying to tell me our affair is over.”
“Really? This is a sad part, you know.”
“I know. I've read it.”
“And you couldn’t have started with a happy moment? I mean we were just laughing like 2 minutes ago.”
“I want to see you stretch.”
“I can bend over.”
Lightly chuckling I shake my head, “You can and while the view is one that doesn't disappoint, I mean with your emotions. I wanna see you happy when you’re sad and sad when you’re happy. It's important to have a steady handle on your emotions. As much as you want your emotions to drive your character and your performance, it's important to have a good grip on them. Filming on screen doesn't get filmed in any particular order, so it's great skill to perfect, the sooner the better.”
“How do you know I wanna act on screen?”
“Call it a hunch,” Gianna folds her arms across her chest disapprovingly. “Fine,” my hands toss in the air, “because you don't seem like the snootiness of the theater is your pace. Besides with your past history of being a model, the Hollywood choice would be the most likely route
. Am I wrong?”
She gives a short shoulder shrug like I struck an unwanted nerve. “Can we just start?”
I position myself a few feet behind her, take a deep breath, and slide into character.
“Nick,” she sighs and looks down at her feet. “This…this relationship, this…affair, this thing, this thing between us is over.”
“Why Catherine?” I rush towards her concern painted on my face. “Why?”
“I love my husband.” Gianna looks up at me, the lie clear.
“You do not.”
“I do.” Her tone lifts, like she almost believes it. “This affair was just poor timing.” She starts fidgeting and it seems overacted. I make a mental note to come back to it. “This was just one giant mistake. This was all just—”
“Perfect,” my voice whimpers as my arms fly around her waist, cradling her body closer to mine. “This has been so perfect. I’ve never felt the way I feel about you with any other woman, including my own wife. I want to be with you. I want us to be together.”
She slightly pushes me as she takes a step back, “No.”
Grabbing her arm, I spin her around and wrap her even closer to me, “Stay.” My fingertips stroke her hips while staring into her eyes. With a tone dripped in pleading I beg, “Be with me.” Her eyes lift with hope. “What can he do for you that I can’t?”
“He--”
“Does he love you like I do? Can he hold you the way I do? Can he stare into your eyes,” my eyes fall deeper into hers before I push the hair out of her face, “and tell you that you’re the only person in the entire world for him?”
“No…” she whispers melting into my arms. “He doesn’t.”
“Because he can’t.”
“That’s not the point,” Gianna says her voice sounding nothing like her own. “I love him.”
My forehead presses against hers. “Like I love you baby?”
Her breathing suddenly changes and she grips the edge of my shirt, a well planted action on her part. I make note of that too. “No one can love me like you do.”
“Then don’t leave. Stay. Run away with me,” I beg. “Please Catherine.”
“I…” Gianna stumbles over her lines. “I…I…I…”
Doing my best to help her move along I whisper, “You?”
“I wanna kiss you,” she whimpers.
Confused I croak, “What?”
“I wanna kiss you.”
Nervous, I reply, “That’s um not in the script.”
“I know.” And without giving me another chance to object Gianna's soft, sticky lips land on mine, the sweetest of sighs falling out of her at the same time. Wanting to fight back, knowing I can't kiss back, that I can't take this a step further, my mouth goes to pull back when her tongue snakes out tasting my bottom lip. At that moment, all will power flies out the window. My mouth parts desperate to have just a sample of what has had my mind going in circles. Soft and slow is my intention, but the fact this is the only girl I've kissed since Mak was born has my body behaving everything but gentle. I grip her a little tighter and push my tongue harder against hers, pleased when she makes that sweet sigh once more.
“Connor and Gianna,” Ms. Flores’ voice cuts through our kiss.
Immediately we fly apart, her with a gorgeous guilty grin, and me wiping away my mouth in anxiousness.
Ms. Flores approaches us. “I’m sorry I haven’t been able to give you a small review yet, but, I figured you could handle yourself Connor,” she compliments. “I mean you always have. Anyway here I am to see whatever it is you’ve been working on.”
“Can I go to the bathroom first?” Gianna asks, running her fingers through her hair.
I raise my eyebrows at Gianna who seems to go to the bathroom the same time every day even though I tell her to go before we get into class. At first I swore she did it to annoy me, then for makeup refresher, but I've seen her reapply her lip gloss too often during class for that to be the reason.
Doing my best to distract myself I ask, “How are Nicole and Jake doing?”
“Pretty good. Coming along rather well, but I hope you two are progressing even better. You know how much I hope you get this Connor,” she answers glancing around me, “for obvious and unobvious reasons.”
“You and me both.”
About five minutes later, Gianna returns, freshens her breath with a mint strip, and takes the stage to show Ms. Flores she can dedicate herself when she chooses to.
Chapter 8
The rest of the week the two of us engage in several kissing sessions around the school. One in the library behind the dusty non-fiction books, two in the cafeteria close to the bathrooms no one uses most of the time, three outside on our walk to theater, and of course goodbye kisses in the parking lot before parting. At first the kisses started with a tense nagging sensation that I shouldn't be kissing her at all, but it began to vanish faster and faster until I got to the point it didn't come at all. In fact the opposite did. Excitement. Longing. Wondering how long until I'll get just one more moment to kiss. Kissing Gianna is quickly fading from a mistake that happened during rehearsal and growing into a sexy sin that feels like heaven. The major problem is I'm still paying for the last sexy sin I engaged in. I can't let myself forget that.
On Friday, our theater teacher is absent and wants us to take our class time to continue working as we have been in our pairs. Luckily, our substitute agrees to let me and Gianna go to the library to ‘research’ background information on our characters for the remainder of the class period.
Strolling, our hands locked together, Gianna giggles, “You wanna skip and just go to my house?”
Immediately I shake my head, “Nah. Not into that.”
“Have you ever skipped school before?”
“Once or twice.”
“Wow. That's it? You need to live a little.”
“Thanks,” I sarcastically reply.
“Sorry.” Gianna nibbles on her bottom lip before stopping in the middle of the empty courtyard. Her arms slide up around my neck as she pleads, “Come on Connor. Just this once. Skip with me and I'll never ask you to do it again.”
Mockingly I shoot her a look.
“Okay, I'll probably ask you to do it again,” the confession has us both slightly laughing. My hands wrap around her tighter. There's something about having her in my arms that I can't get enough of. It's dangerous to get this attached, but damn, it feels good. “But not any time soon. Please...”
“I can’t baby. I have to be at work in less than a couple of hours.”
“I know, but I don’t live that far.”
“Really?”
“Really. I promise, you won’t be late for work.”
Still hesitant I question, “Really?”
“Really. You trust me right?” The question is one that I can't stomach answering truthfully. I do. I trust her in ways I haven't trusted anyone since my father died. I trust with my heart that I didn't even know beat for anyone other than Mak. But then there's Mak. I haven't told her. I don't know that I should. Hell, I don't know if I can. I don't know if I trust anyone else knowing anything about that bright green eyed princess of mine. “Connor, you do trust me right?”
Instead of answering the question I lean down and place a brief kiss on her lips. “Am I following you in my car?”
Gianna lets it go as soon as she realizes she's getting her way. “I’ll drive!”
“They let you have a license?”
With a playful slap on the chest she giggles, “Shut up.”
I smile and let her lead me towards the parking lot where she sneaks us off campus by lying to the parking attendant with fake tears and a sob story about a sick pet, proving without a doubt the girl really can act. In Gianna's black 2015 Benz, we pull out of the parking lot. Settling into the leather I try to swallow the lump of envy that's grown in my throat. It's not her fault she was born to rich parents any more than it's my fault my father's death left us with next to nothing. I
glance over as she slides on her designer sunglasses looking like something out of a celebrity gossip mag. What in the hell am I doing?
At the stop light a couple minutes down the road from the school, Gianna leans over, puts a hand on my cheek, and turns my face to let our lips meet again. Our tongues briefly touch before she pulls away, leaving the obvious answer to my question. I'm falling for a girl. Slowly, but fucking surely.
About five minutes down the road that runs parallel to the side of the school, we take a turn onto a windy road, with houses few and far between to find a giant, gated off mansion, with a security guard waiting for people to arrive. The princess really does live in a palace. No wonder she acts like the world is at her beck and call. It really is.
“Good afternoon Ms. Gianna,” the guard sighs leaning through his open window. The sunlight reflects off of his bald white head and his badge. While he doesn't seem too intimidating to me, I can imagine the gun on his hip probably helps. “What are you doing off early?”
Pushing her sunglasses into her hair she innocently smiles. “Free period. Claimed I was going to the library, decided to come home and study my lines with my partner instead.”
“So you’re skipping school again?” His chubby fingers tap the desk.
“That’s the negative way to look at it.”
“That’s the accurate way to look at it.”
“That’s what I said.”
“Gianna,” he scolds. “You know you shouldn’t be skipping school especially not with a guy…”
“Well mom,” she sarcastically starts, “I may not be in school, but I'm still studying. More importantly he’s not just any guy. He’s…well he’s my partner for my acting class.”
“Is this acting class partner thing code for sex tape companion?”
“Whoa,” I surrender my hands in the air to the guard. “No. No. No. No....”