“And you let me in, don’t you?”
I fumble for an answer. She’s on to me. “You come in. I don’t let you in,” I bite back.
“Oh really? You could lock that door if you wanted to, but you don’t.”
“Because I don’t know where you’d be if you didn’t come in here, and that worries me,” I admit finally.
“Well, then why haven’t you told on me?” I don’t have an answer for that, and she pounces. “You must want me to be here because you’d find a way to keep me out like you do to everyone else,” she says firmly.
I sit up and turn to her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you try to pretend you don’t need anybody, but actually you do,” she says. “You like having me around because I was abandoned by my parents, and you know what that feels like.”
I stiffen immediately. There’s nothing more I hate than someone psychoanalyzing me. The heat of shame turns quickly into an angry fire. She has no idea why I actually like having her around, and it has nothing to do with being abandoned by my father.
Does it?
That’s it. I’ve had it with this girl! Now she’s making me question my own psychological stability. She’s the only person on this earth other than my father who makes me question myself.
“You’ve been talking to Claudia too much.” I hear the hardness in my voice, and so does she.
Her mouth twists to the side. “Yes, she told me a little bit. But it’s nothing I couldn’t figure out on my own, Jack.”
“Cherie, enough. Our situations are totally different,” I reply. I stand up and walk to the bedroom door. “I’m not talking about this right now.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to. It’s nearly three in the morning, and I have school in a few hours. Just go upstairs!” I open the door and moonlight pours in like an interrogation lamp. I turn away from it bitterly.
She slides off of the bed and walks toward me, and I’m blazing again, but it’s for all the wrong reasons. I scan her tiny black dress, which only hits the tops of her thighs and plunges low on her chest. A long, glittery necklace draws my eye to her cleavage. She looks amazing, even with her hair frazzled and her makeup slightly smudged. She doesn’t look pretty and perfect, like that teen princess I first met on Christmas Eve who was all pink lip gloss and bouncing yellow curls and innocence. She’s hot and ragged, the dangerous kind, when a girl looks a little bit like you were the reason she got that disheveled. Suddenly, my mind is conjuring all sorts of alternate endings to this night, and I’m desperate to block the desire to take her back to my bed.
She stops and stares at me. “Do you hate me still?” Her sad tone snaps me out of my daze, but her wide, black rimmed eyes keep me imprisoned. “I thought we were past all that.”
I swallow hard, trying to find my voice. “I don’t hate you,” I say softly.
“Then what is it?”
I can’t answer. I can’t tell her I feel like a yo-yo, wound up tightly until she feels like playing with me, and then thrown back and forth at the flick of her hand. Mean, nice, friendly, evil, perfect, wild. I’m subjected to whoever Cherie feels like being on a given day. I certainly can’t tell her how badly I want her. I can’t let her know that she makes my blood boil and my heart pound and my skin tingle all at the same time. Cherie, who has been trying to break me for the last week, is causing at least one part of me to crack without even knowing it.
“Oh, Jack,” she sighs, pushing her lower lip out. “Are you still mad that I took your sister for a walk?”
I feel air catch in my throat and try not to stare at her mouth. “No, that’s not it,” I reply.
“Then what is it?” she presses.
I have to look away. “I’m just tired, Cherie, okay?” I sigh to the floor. “I go to school all day and then the gym and then you have me up all night – I’m tired and need sleep.” I don’t even believe my complaints, and they’re mostly true.
“Oh, the gym, huh? That’s where these abs are coming from,” she teases, playfully running her fingers over the muscles of my bare stomach. It sends a red alert straight to my groin and sparks a rash of goosebumps across my skin.
I push her hand away quickly. “Don’t.” My voice sounds choked and tortured, and she tilts her head like a dog, picking up on it. I didn’t want her to know that she affects me that much.
“Gosh, I was just paying you a compliment, you big grouch!”
“Cherie, can you be serious for one minute? I mean it.”
She sighs and looks me dead in the eye. “If you really want me to leave, I will. But I really want to stay. I promise I won’t bring up your abs again.”
I swallow a chuckle and shake my head. I can’t put my foot down with her. I know I should tell her to go. I know that letting her stay means a lot of things are going unsaid. She may not feel the same way about me as I feel about her, but spending all these nights together is digging me into a deep hole, that’s for sure.
I rub my eyes. “If we get caught, we could get in trouble.”
“Get in trouble for what?” she laughs, heading back to the bed. “It’s not like we’re doing anything bad out here.”
Yet, I think, watching her crawl into the bed, in her tight, short dress. We’re not doing anything bad yet. I feel a thousand pounds settle back onto my chest as I slide into bed next to her.
She curls up around me, and I lie flat beside her, staring at the ceiling, trying to calm my racing heart.
I try to convince myself that she’s right; I’m not doing anything wrong – we are not doing anything wrong. My imagination, however, has a whole playbook of wrong decisions I desperately want to make. But I can’t; I keep telling myself she’s like Britney, only older. And not my sister.
And ridiculously hot.
A tiny part of me hopes that someone does find out and puts a stop to this before I reach a point where I can’t stop myself.
DIRTERAZZI.COM
CHERIE BELLE OUT FOR ASSISTANT’S 25TH BIRTHDAY PARTY: NO BOYS ALLOWED!
In the first night all week, Cherie Belle was seen out without Caz Farrell or any other Kidz Channel boys as she celebrated the twenty-fifth birthday of her assistant, Danika Shields. The girls, all twelve of them, started the night out at the uber-swanky Sake restaurant for some sushi and a birthday cake shaped like a puppy. How cute! Then, Danika brought her posse, including Belle and other ladies of Kidz Channel fame, to their favorite hotspot, Club Fly. The no-boys-allowed rule was upheld even on the dance floor, where the ladies shimmied and shook together and kept it relatively clean for once. Belle was spotted drinking throughout the evening, but she left the club on her own two feet, another first for the week. Maybe things are turning around for the starlet…
CHAPTER 27
“Hansen!”
I’m startled out of my slumber and jump to attention. I’m in the middle of the cafeteria, and Mica is staring down at me with genuine concern.
“You okay, my man?” he asks, sitting across from me.
I rub my eyes and nod weakly. “Yeah, just tired.”
“You look it. Am I workin’ you too hard at the gym?” he laughs, nudging my shoulder with a light jab.
I shake my head. “Maybe.” I’m exhausted, staring at my sandwich, thinking it is too much work to lift it and chew it.
“You look beat. What’s up?” he presses, stealing the French fries off of my tray. “Studying for a test or somethin’?”
I harrumph. “Something like that.”
“Well, I was gonna ask you if you wanna meet up in West Hollywood tomorrow night, but seein’ how you need a nap and all…”
“Very funny,” I grumble. I try to think what day it is, and I realize it’s Friday. “What time?”
He grins wide at me. “’Bout ten. My friend, D’shawn, gots some honeys meetin’ up wit’ us, too. Betta dress nice.”
I squint at him. He says that to me a lot, and he’s starting give me a complex, lik
e I don’t dress well or something. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He laughs at my defensiveness. “Means we goin’ to a club, and we gotta look the part, you dig?”
“What club?”
Mica winks. “It’s called Fly. It’s hoppin."' I cock my head because the name sounds familiar. Then I remember hearing Cherie babble one night about being there before coming home to me. Now I’m intrigued.
“How will we get in?”
“We got the hookup, kid,” he says reassuringly. “D’Shawn knows the door guy. It’s his cousin.” He chuckles deeply at my doubtful frown. “Don’t worry, I got you, son!” He tousles my hair like I’m a kid, and I smack his hand away. He struts off, calling over his shoulder, “We gon’ play with the big boys tomorrow night!”
“Can you keep a secret?”
I peer down at Cherie, trying to make out her features in the small light from my window. I can’t tell if she’s joking, but I hope that she is.
“Haven’t I kind of been doing that already?”
“I’m serious!” she giggles. Her smile makes me smile. Behind her mess of wild blond curls, the digital clock reads 3:30.
“What?”
“Swear not to tell.” Her hand absently pets my shoulder, giving me a tame version of chills.
I sigh. “I swear not to tell.”
She giggles again. “Okay, so, I tried E tonight.”
My heart misses about three beats. “What?”
“E. You know, Ecstasy?”
“Cherie, I know what E is,” I huff. “I mean what were you thinking?”
“My friends were doing it, and they offered it to me. I figured why not?” Her grin grows big. “Oh my God, it was so fun.”
“It’s so stupid, that’s what it is.”
She rolls her eyes and closes them. “Come on, you’re not seriously going to lecture me right now, are you?”
I prop myself up onto my elbow. “It’s not a lecture, it’s a reality check. That’s dangerous stuff, and you shouldn’t be doing it.”
“Don’t act like you’ve never done drugs before.” She narrows her eyes when I shake my head. It seems gleefully shocking to her. “Serious? You’ve seriously never done any drugs before?”
“Nope. We get drug tested for football season. I’m not going to jeopardize my chance at a scholarship for some stupid curiosity.” I feel like an old man as I add, “And you shouldn’t either. You could get in big trouble for that; people are always watching what you do and talking about you. You’ll get arrested or addicted or worse.”
She smiles playfully and rubs my shoulder. “Aw, do you care what happens to me?”
I blush a little but admit, “Yes, I do. You know that already. I wonder all the time if you’re going to make it home or not. The drinking is bad enough, but drugs are a whole other story.”
“Sweetie, save me the D.A.R.E. talk, okay?” she says, squeezing my chin in her hand. “It was just this once, and I’m totally fine. See?”
“Yeah, good for you, but you’re lucky nothing bad happened. A kid at my old school did E once, and it messed him up big time,” I tell her.
“That only happens when you don’t drink water or take too much. Only dumb people overdose, Jack,” she says flipping her hair over her shoulder and across the pillow. “My friends know what they’re doing.”
“You do know that the term ‘intelligent celebrities’ is an oxymoron, right?”
She laughs at this and turns to face me. “You hate that I’m famous, don’t you?”
“No, I hate your famous friends and your stupid entourage who bring you home drunk and feed you drugs.”
“They don’t feed them to me, Jack,” she corrects me, offended. “They ask if I want to try them, and I say whether I do or I don’t. I only try drugs with someone if I trust them.”
“Oh really? Celebrities are trustworthy drug specialists?” I scoff. I can’t believe she’s this dumb sometimes. “I love it. What does Caz say, ‘trust me because I can play a doctor on TV?’”
“Oh, I wasn’t with Caz this time; I was with Carl and Betsy,” she says, as if that’s supposed to make it any better. “And don’t pick on Caz. He’s a not a bad guy.”
I grunt, “Yeah, he’s a real Prince Charming.”
“Oh, my! Someone sounds jealous of Caz,” she sings.
“Did I say that?” I look away, my cheeks stinging from her truth.
“You don’t have to; all guys hate him! Look me in the eye and tell me you’re not,” she laughs. When I won’t look at her, she straddles my stomach. I turn my face, but she pulls it back and makes me meet her eye. “Are you jealous of Caz?”
“I’m not,” I say defiantly. “I think it’s stupid that you are dating a guy who’s so old.”
“I’m not dating him,” she replies with a smug smile. “We are just friends.”
I jerk my face from her hand. “Sure you are.”
She drops her jaw and gawks at me. “You are jealous!”
“No, I’m not. Get off of me please,” I push gently at her knees, but she won’t budge, tightening her grip around my sides. Her hands rest on top of my chest, sending warmth through my skin.
Her face is serious all of a sudden. “Jack, you don’t really think he and I are dating, do you?”
“Does it matter what I think?”
Cherie’s eyebrows knit together as if she isn’t sure. “But why do you think that?”
“It’s all over the news, Cherie,” I say stiffly, turning my eyes away again. It’s hard to look up at her when she’s on top of me like this. It makes my mind swirl with a thousand different scenarios I’d rather have happening right now than a conversation about Caz.
“Aunt Eva told you not to pay attention to that stuff, remember?” she says. She looks disappointed in me.
“I don’t. People at school ask me about you,” I mutter in my own defense. She dismounts and plants herself beside me, her legs folding underneath her body.
“Really?” This news sounds more exhilarating to her. “Kids ask you about me? What do they say?”
“Did you think you weren’t relevant anymore or something?” I joke, shaking my head. “They ask if you guys are dating, they ask if we’re dating – ”
“They ask about you and me?” Now she looks nervous. “What do you say?”
I shrug and explain, “That it’s a rumor the magazines made up, and you just live with my family.”
“Oh.” Is that satisfaction I see or disappointment? I can’t tell, and before I can ask, she says, “Good. Keep saying that.”
It’s my turn to be offended. “It’s the truth; you’re not my girlfriend.”
“Well, I’m not Caz’s girlfriend, either.”
“Then why do you hang out with him so much?” I pry, knowing I’m asking more than I should, and possibly asking for more information than I want to know.
She shrugs. “The producers of ‘Sunny’ think it will be good for the movie if we are seen together a lot, so we get together sometimes. Keeps people guessing.”
The celebrity world perplexes me more every day. “The producers for your movie make you stage a relationship? To make people think you’re dating? Why can’t you tell everyone it’s not true?”
“I do, Jack,” she says. “I tell them we are just friends. No one believes me because it’s more fun to believe the rumor. Isn’t it more scandalous to think a sixteen year old girl would have some twenty-something year old heartthrob wrapped around her finger?”
She adds with a wink, “It’s even more scandalous if they can make a love triangle out of it by throwing you in there and saying we are dating, too. Clearly, that’s not true, right?”
Her explanation makes sense, and it even burns a little. I’m still unconvinced about Caz, though. She’s a pro at lying, and I feel almost like I’m the newest victim of her believe-me smile. “Do you like Caz?”
She shrugs. “Not particularly. He’s a little shallow. He has jerky friends, and he
gets nasty when he’s around them.”
I laugh out loud. “He sounds perfect for you.”
Cherie gawks. “How dare you!” She digs her fingers into my side to tickle me, but I’m quick to grab her hands and hold them hostage. She squeals and squirms to free herself, but I twist my upper body and pin her arms beneath me.
“Watch it. My mom’s not here to save you this time,” I warn.
“You wouldn’t do anything to me,” she taunts, struggling to free herself.
“Not true.”
She lifts her chin and says breathlessly, “Then do something.” I smell booze and smoke and trouble.
Once more, her lips are too close to mine; my heart stills as if it’s afraid to beat, and I can’t inhale or exhale. I’ve never been locked in that awkward moment between play and intimacy with her before, and it scares me how easily I could seize the opportunity to make a move. That dark look flashes through her eyes again, and I’m dangerously close to doing something that could get me slapped again. Or maybe she wants me to, I can’t tell with her right now. Is she tempting me on purpose? Is it the ecstasy talking? Does she have any idea what she is doing to my brain?
I release her hands and fall back onto the bed. “Nah, it wouldn’t be a fair fight.”
She’s quiet, watching me with those big, green eyes. I swallow hard and look over at the clock, or anywhere that isn’t her face or her body.
“Jesus, it’s late,” I mutter.
“Yeah,” she whispers.
I don’t want to tell her to leave, but I don’t think I can stay next to her for another minute. “Are you staying here?”
Please say no.
“Just for an hour or so. I try to get in the house before your mom wakes up.” She pauses and blinks at me. “Can I?”
I should say no. I should say no right now.
Say no, stupid!
“If you want.”
She smiles and presses her hands together beneath her cheek instead of curling around my arm or snuggling against me like usual. It’s like she knows my whole body is on fire and she’ll get burned. I turn my face to the ceiling and close my eyes.
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