As Long As You Hate Me

by Carrie Aarons

  But God knew I was just as desperate, and even as my best friend talked me over the ledge and onto the treacherous rocks below, I felt myself giving in to the free fall. I must be a masochist, and one fueled by money, but Heidi was right. I was in over my head with the amount of debt to my name … so severely that it would take me decades to get out.

  One year, that’s all Dean was asking. One year to save both of us … just not together. I could fake anything for one year. If it meant starting the life I’d dreamed of, in the professional sense, I could muster. I think …

  “If I do this, you have to be my sober companion.” The idea suddenly hits me.

  “This is a rockstar lifestyle … not AA.” Heidi’s confused expression conveys that she doesn’t understand what I’m saying.

  “No, B, I mean when it comes to Dean. He’s my one weakness in all of this. I don’t care about the fame, or the money beyond what it can do to clear my school loans. But living in a house with the man I find the most sexy in the world? The one who completely shattered my heart? I’m going to need a sponsor to talk me out of doing the stupidest thing imaginable.”

  I see the moment it clicks for her. “You need me to be your cock block coach? Oh, I am in! I’ll keep you so far away from his dick, they’ll be calling you a nun. I’ll poison you if it means keeping your heart away from those swoony lyrics of his.”

  I chuckle as the nail polish glides over my last toe. “That’s a bit extreme, but I like the enthusiasm.”

  Chapter Nine

  Kara

  The last time I came here, I was twenty-two years old and searching for an answer that never came.

  It had been the night after my college graduation, a moment in my life when I should have been so sure about everything falling into place. Instead, I'd sat up in these high school bleachers, the dark and fireflies surrounding me, and cried. Nothing in my world had felt comfortable, I was lonely, afraid that I'd just been floating through the minutes and settling.

  The time I'd come to our spot before that night, I'd been a twenty-year-old heartbroken girl, grieving her first love on the night that it seemed the entire universe shattered over my head.

  I fold my hands, looking out over the Elm Hill High School football field. They'd sure fixed it up since Dean and I used to spend all of our time on these metal benches. New turf, an impressive scoreboard, an actual concrete building for the ticket and concession stand, instead of the shed they'd had back when we were students.

  "It's funny, for some reason, I thought this place would look exactly the same. I guess that's what happens when you don't come home for seven years."

  His voice comes at me through the darkness, and I should have predicted that we would both end up here tonight. Something about the air, the humid romance of it in late summer that drags up ghosts of the past and leaves you unable to sleep.

  The warmth of him settles in beside me, and although he's still sitting about a foot away, memories of a time when we would sit here, wrapped up in each other, invade my memory.

  "I'm leaving in the morning. I can't stay any longer, or they're really going to find me." Dean is looking at me, I can feel those aqua pools all over my skin, but I keep my gaze fixed on the field.

  He's asking for an answer, and maybe I came here to find one again.

  "This is my life, I can't just pick up and leave it." Even I notice the waver in my tone, the unsureness creeping up my throat.

  "There is more out there for you than this. Then suburban New Jersey and living in your parent’s house forever. Don't think of this as something you're doing for me, giving up for me, although it's a big part. This could mean something bigger, a chance to take life by the balls. It's not the safe bet, and in all my years of knowing you, I would have never imagined that this safe existence would be where you ended up."

  Those words sting a little, but maybe ... they're true. Did I mean to end up here? In my hometown, living with my parents, getting by on the right choices and safe bets?

  "God, this air ..." I pull my tank top away from my neck, not realizing I said that out loud.

  "Something about it, makes it feel as though the night is alive."

  Dean's choice of words makes me finally look at him, and my heart lurches at his beautiful face. Looking at him gives me a stomach ache, the kind where nausea and butterflies mix. You know he can’t be good for you, but Goddamn it, you want to devour him anyway.

  “Outside of public view, this is never happening. You should know that now.” I point between us.

  “I didn’t expect it to.” His voice is quiet, clipped.

  I didn’t expect that to hurt so much … but I don’t want it so why do my cheeks burn with embarrassment.

  “And I’m looking over any kind of contract I sign. I also am not putting on a ring just yet … I’m not saying yes, but I’m saying I’ll come to your world with you. Try it out, see if I can do this.”

  Dean nods, the humid breeze passing over our skin. I wish it were brighter, I wish I could see the scrolls of ink covering his arms. Read what they say.

  “That’s fair. Thank you … Kara, you don’t know—”

  I cut him off, because I don’t need gratitude. “I know you didn’t rape her, Dean. I at least know that. I won’t pretend to know any of the shit you’ve done the past seven years, because I’m sure it’s not great, but I know you’re not a rapist.”

  His jaw tics, but he nods again. “Do you remember the night we came out here on Fourth of July?”

  My heart drops down to my toes, talk of the past making me run hot and cold. Of course, I remember that night. But I stay silent.

  “That was the one moment I knew I held the whole world in my hands. Whatever I’ve become, however much money or fame I’ve amassed, I can point to that night as the singular greatest moment of my existence. You should know that. Still, after all of these years, you and me here, it will be the moment I picture as I take my last breath.”

  Jesus. I exhale, not noticing I was holding my breath. The way he put things … his use of the English language was a lethal weapon against my heart. It was no wonder I could barely turn the dial of my radio in the past seven years, praying I wouldn’t hear that brusque croon through my speakers.

  “I’m taking your proposal, Dean … you don’t have to sweet talk me. I’ll do this for you, and I have my own terms. And once this year is up, we’ll tastefully go our separate ways and never look back.”

  “Deal.” He held out his hand, his fingers long and his palm callused from so many years playing the guitar. I took it, hating the way my insides turned into jelly as our skin came in contact, the goose bumps that rolled over my pores like sand on a deserted beach.

  I’d almost convinced myself that it was going to be that easy.

  Chapter Ten

  Kara

  “What do you do, sit in the house and listen to your own voice on a track? You so would do that … always so much ego.”

  I dropped my bags in the foyer of the giant mansion I’d just walked in to, and heard Dean’s voice singing somewhere through the house.

  “No, I’m not that much of a sociopath. My agent must be here, this is a new track I laid before I came to New Jersey … my sound engineer must be done with it.”

  He wandered into the cavernous space, not bothering to turn around to see if I was following. Was he nuts? A normal person could get lost in this Narnia.

  From the private plane to the tinted Escalade to the paparazzi chasing our car down in the streets to the gate at the beginning of Dean’s community … I was fucking speechless. Who knew how the other half lived? Well now, I kind of did.

  Dean’s house was directly on the ocean in Malibu, the glorified beach house he’d always dreamed about. I remembered him talking about the vast expanse back in high school, how he wanted to live right next to the very thing that controlled the orbit of the moon and the turning of the Earth. I’d never tell him this, but a spark of pride fired like a gun in my ches
t … he’d actually done what he set out to do.

  The house sat on what must have been an acre of its own beach, a glass and cream mansion that rose into the sky. From every room, you could hear the ocean, smell the salt and see the rays of the sun. It felt homey and humongous all at the same time, an effect of which I’m sure a designer was paid a lot of money to create. Vintage black and white prints of the great musicians hung in the hallways leading into the main vestibule of the house, and as I rounded the wall into the kitchen, I was presented with an image of gleaming stainless steel, light oak and white tile.

  For a bachelor pad, it wasn’t quite what I had imagined for Dean. It was more spa serenity than grungy rockstar hang out … but then again, he’d grown up in the grungiest house of all and maybe he wanted to break that mold into a million pieces.

  His voice, the one on the recording set to a catchy, heartbreaking melody, got louder as I meandered through the rooms. I couldn’t see him anymore, so I followed the sound, running my fingers along the soft material of a couch or over a decorative accent sitting on a table as I went.

  Was it strange that this place felt … comfortable to me?

  That was one of Mom’s biggest concerns when I’d dropped the LA bomb on her.

  “But, you don’t even like big crowds! You hate attention and people knowing your business.” Mom threw her hands up, walking around the kitchen island.

  “Yes, you’re right … but maybe it’s time for me to try something different. I can’t stay under your roof forever, Mom. There has to be more out there than this. Don’t you want me to become the person I’m supposed to be?”

  I try to plead with her, without telling her or my dad exactly why I’m doing this. I lied and said that Dean and I reconnected last month and have been talking, which is the backstory Dean and I will give the media once this circus all starts. When he came to New Jersey, we were caught at the wedding, and now he wants me to come to Los Angeles with him and spend some time there. I didn’t mention anything about contracts or engagements, because what they don’t know can’t hurt them and I want them as far removed from this as possible.

  The only person who really knows the truth is Heidi, along with Dean and I, and I’m assuming some of his industry people.

  “Are you sure about this, honey? You built a good career here, will you be able to continue that out there?” Dad has been mostly quiet, but inquisitive.

  I think that he’s silently relieved to be getting me out of the house, and out of their finances. It can’t be easy on my parent’s marriage to have their broke, twenty-seven-year-old daughter still living in her childhood bedroom right next to their own. But he is concerned, I can see it in the lines on his face.

  “There are so many opportunities for me out there, so many more than here. What they’re doing out there with skin technology, it’s incredible, Dad. I’ll be learning from the most innovative doctors in my field.”

  Of that, I was certain. I may be doubtful about the entire rest of the setup, but I couldn’t wait to begin working at a practice out in LA. Just researching some of the procedures of the best dermatologists in that area, my hands were twitching at the ready to get some experience in the advanced treatments. Reversing aging, sun spots, scars and other epidermis ailments might not turn most people on, but it was my porn.

  “We just want to make sure you’re thinking this through, Kara … if this is what you want, then we’ll support you. I can’t say I’m not happy that you’ve reconnected with Dean, you know I loved him. But … I just don’t want to see you get hurt like last time.” Mom comes over to me and wraps me in a hug.

  I have to bite back the lump of emotion clogging my throat, because if she only knew how phony this was, she’d be so disappointed. What would they say when they found out about the engagement? What would they do when it ended in a year?

  For the first time since I’d contemplated my ex-boyfriend’s proposal, I thought about the other people in my life it would affect. My parents would be put under a microscope as well, and the excitement my mom would hold about finally throwing a wedding for her only child would be snuffed out when we ended everything.

  I couldn’t think about that now, though. I had to focus on the money, the relief this would bring to them and their bottom line. I had to focus on getting out of their hair, of letting them live the empty nester lifestyle I know my dad had been dreaming about. And I was a grown adult … I had to start making choices that they weren’t allowed to question.

  “It’s going to be great, you’ll see.” I sigh into her shoulder, allowing myself to feel like a child for just one more moment.

  “Then we will support you in whatever way you need.” Dad laid a hand on my shoulder as we stood in the kitchen as a family for the what might be the last time for a while.

  “I think the bass needs to be increased … and we need to add some more background vocals but other than that, it sounds pretty ace.” Dean was standing there, rubbing his hand across his jaw when I finally found him.

  The room I’d walked into was basically an entire other building, a recording studio with boards and gadgets that looked far too advanced for me. Dean’s voice, and guitar, blared out from speakers … and I couldn’t help but soak them in. It had been years since I’d allowed myself to listen to his music.

  “Let’s find you a room, then.” He smiled, and my knees buckled a bit.

  I absolutely hated that he still had that effect on me. If anything, the natural charm oozing off of him had increased tenfold.

  He turned on his heel, his jeans fitting in a way that should be illegal, and trekked back through the house. The downstairs alone was bigger than any dwelling I’d ever been in, and once he crested the top of the stairs and began throwing open doors to bedrooms, I had to bite my tongue from making rude comments.

  “Is this one okay?” Dean swings a door open, and the sunlight streaming through the back wall of floor to ceiling windows stuns me.

  The bedroom is done in ocean and beige tones, seemingly blending right into the sand and water below. The bed is larger than any I’ve ever seen, and it strikes me just how much the time zones are now affecting me.

  “I mean, it’s not the dungeon from Beauty and the Beast.” I walk in, setting my weekender bag on the bench in front of the bed.

  “Is that what you’re going to compare yourself to?” His blue eyes hold a little hurt, but his mouth flips up in a smirk.

  “Prisoner isn’t the correct term, I guess. Concubine, maybe? Indentured servant?” I infuse my voice with sarcasm.

  Something is buzzing between us, and Dean steps closer. “Don’t pretend you didn’t willingly agree to this, Kara.”

  This felt like dangerous territory, with alarm bells going off in my head. “Don’t pretend that just because I’m sleeping in one of your bedrooms, that it means you can do what you please.”

  I’d been thinking about sleeping down the hall from him the entire plane ride, and felt like I needed to lay that ground rule now.

  He tilts his head to the side. “Like I explained before, I don’t need to force a woman to ride my cock. They come begging all on their own.”

  My stomach drops at his use of the word cock. I sneer. “You’re so humble. I bet you even kiss them after they suck you off, just so they can say that Dean Jacobs is a pure gentleman.”

  I wasn’t going to let him embarrass me with his dirty mouth.

  “I think I’ve missed you, Kara.” His expression is almost gleeful.

  And that was my greatest fear.

  Chapter Eleven

  Kara

  The strum of a guitar wakes me, splinters of memories past jarring me in the bed that is so unfamiliar.

  There are certain sounds you just come to know. The jingle of your mother’s keys when she arrives somewhere to pick you up, so similar to that of other parent’s keys but you just know the combination hers make when they clang together. The sound of your father’s footsteps, clunky and distinct. The
chime of your favorite wrist watch, you could pick it out from anywhere.

  That’s how Dean’s playing has always been for me. Before I banned the radio and music almost completely from my life, back when we were still happy and he was just breaking over the cusp of fame, a new song of his would come on the radio. And I’d know it was him instantly. If anyone was around me to hear the excited squeal, they would tell me I was nuts. How could I possibly know this was Dean?

  And then he would start to sing, and they would look at me with something akin to awe or someone who’d just seen a magic trick. Then they’d accuse me of already hearing the song, of having a boyfriend who could play it first for me over the phone.

  The strum of the guitar is haunting, the slow melody heartbreaking as it absorbs into my blood stream as if a ghost just walked through me. It draws me out, making me leave my room in search of the origin.

  Down the stairs quietly I go, the house dark and silent, nothing but the sound of the music, and the ocean just outside the open windows.

  A single candle flickers somewhere outside as I reach the bottom floor, the entire back wall of the house has been opened and reveals the backyard leading to the sea.

  That’s where Dean sits, his form dark in the night, his shirtless back to me. Under the moonlight, I can just make out the faint trace of tattoos marking his arms and back.

  That voice, soft and smoky, licks at my ears in a sexual dance.

  No midsummer sunset, no perfect cloud of rain,

  Could ever compare to the amount of pain,

  Trapped in those violet eyes, oh what a terrible, sweet disguise.

  Time moves on but leaves us behind,

  In the whispers of the night, our paths collide.