Kara
Outside the studio, the noise and lights are deafening.
Fans shriek, screaming their lungs out for Dean and shouting so many questions that I can’t even pick apart what is an actual word. Flash bulbs go off in my retinas, so many cameras going off at once that I feel like I’m stuck in a strobe light and might fall over at any moment.
Dean’s hand grasps mine, our fingers twining like the way lovers’ do. He holds the small of my back and lets me walk first, shielding me from the onslaught of piranhas around us. My heart kicks like a drum against my ribcage, and I feel it moving up the back of my throat. I can’t tell if my knees are shaking due to the chaos going on around us, or from the fact that Dean is touching me, his minty, earthy smell invading my nose.
Two scary looking security guys push people out of the way in front of us, and finally reach the black SUV waiting for us by the curb. Wrenching the door open, the one linebacker-looking man practically lifts me into the passenger seat while Dean is escorted to the driver’s side.
“Holy crap, this is insane.” I breath, pushing strands of hair out of my face as I buckle in.
“Don’t say anything, they read lips and take pictures of everything,” Dean mutters under his breath. “Now kiss me, and smile.”
“What?!” I hiss, trying to talk like a ventriloquist.
“Play along, girlfriend.” He arches an eyebrow at me in challenge.
Two can play this fucking game. I fall into a swoony stance, positioning my boobs across the center console and lean into him. I bat my eyelashes, lick my lips and giggle shortly before almost falling into his mouth.
Dean’s strong hand comes out and grabs my chin, the calluses tickling my skin. When his lips meet mine, a jolt of memories shoots down my spine. It’s the first time in seven years that I’ve kissed him, and ghosts of our past whisper through every connection of our mouths. The pressure is soft but firm, neither of us fully committing, but just testing the waters.
To the people going nuts outside of our car windows, it probably just looks like a lazy, flirting kiss between lovers. But inside the car, the air is heated with unanswered questions, tense attraction, and disdain on my side for what I’ve gotten myself into.
Dean’s eyes are the color of a hurricane swirling through the ocean when he pulls back, but he paints the lazy side smirk on his face for the cameras before starting the car.
It takes him a minute to navigate out of the mob, and I take those precious seconds to collect myself and gather air into my lungs. Up until now, this has all been a game. We’ve been playing roles, doing show and tell instead of actually engaging with one another. This changes things, even if I won’t admit it. Even if I keep my mask on, I can’t for one second show him that it just slipped when his lips touched my own.
“Your breath stinks.” I throw at him, breaking the silence as we pull onto the highway back toward Malibu.
“But I’ve gotten better at that, haven’t I?” He grins a cocky, smarmy smile.
Leaning back in the expensive leather seat, he commands the wheel with one hand. Why does everything he does seem sexual? Maybe I’m just very, very exhausted from my dry spell.
“Maybe I need to get you tested before I do that again, who knows where those have been?” I point to his lips, and then let the meaning of my words sink in.
Dean must get the same vibe too, because I see his jaw tic underneath the stubble that dots it. Horrible accusations, terrible words from so many years ago float into my mind and whisper through the car. I’d been so hurt, my soul practically ripped in two when those pictures had reached New Jersey. His denial had only made them worse.
“Did you want anything for lunch? I can stop somewhere on the way back.” Dean changes the subject, and I try to shake off the cobwebs in my mind.
Trying to be civil, because it’s killing my soul to be so snarky all the time, I nod. “I still haven’t had a burger.”
Dean chuckles. “From In-N-Out? That’s what you want? You know I could get you something far better than that.”
“And you forget that I knew you before the red carpets and five course meals. Burger King used to suit us just fine.”
He nods, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “Grease and fries it is then.”
While he navigates us there, I lean my head back and watch the passing scenery. And think about what he’d said in front of that audience. That I was special, that he wanted to spend all of his time with me. In reality, we were nothing more than distant strangers living under the same roof, putting on a rouse.
I needed to remember that. Because the way his eyes had burned me up across the room when the cameras had panned to me made my heart feel as if we were sitting on our bleachers all those years ago, the stars in the sky the only audience watching us.
Chapter Fifteen
Dean
White walls, white granite, beige oversized chairs, green juice out of a machine in the corner. How come all of these places look like the homes of millionaires, instead of doctor’s offices?
A woman walks past me, her lips like a duck and tiny spots of blood dotting her forehead. I can only imagine the needles and procedures she must have had to go through to get those spots on her flesh. It makes me shudder … and wonder why some of these women can’t accept that at some point they’re going to have to age, and this wasn’t particularly the way to do it gracefully.
“I’m here to see Kara O’Connor.” I rap my knuckles on the counter.
The girl at the counter holds up her finger, the headset in her ear occupying her. I wait patiently, the elevator music and jasmine scent setting a relaxing mood for an office that zapped people’s hair and tightened their pussies.
“Sorry to keep you waiting.” She looks up and begins to smile, and then it falters just a bit before she slaps it back on. “Kara, you said?”
It’s the first time I’ve come to see her at work since she started four days ago, and I knew the minute I stepped foot in here it would draw unwanted attention. But people have to see us together for the word to make it around that we’re in each other’s lives, and what better way to do that than arrive at my girlfriend’s work with plans to take her out to dinner.
The receptionist pages to the back, and out comes Kara minutes later, an annoyed look being masked by a tight smile.
“What’re you doing here?” To the receptionist, she sounds cheery … but I know this girl and she’s pissed that I showed up at her place of work.
I lean in, placing my hands on her hips and feeling her curves through the lab coat that is doing a lot of things to me south of my belt. “Hi to you, too, beautiful.”
Placing my lips over hers in the briefest of kisses, I think I hear the receptionist sigh.
“I came to take you out to dinner. Are you almost done? Oh! Maybe I can watch you pop some blackheads … I’ve always liked those videos on the Internet.”
Kara tilts her head to the side, one almond eye twinkling at my confession. “Seriously? Where did you find those?”
“I may have done some research when you first moved out here.” I drop my hands from her waist as another patient walks by, an older woman whose eyes linger too long trying to place me.
“You might be more popular in here than our micro-needle rejuvenation. The technology in this place …” She trails off, shaking her head gently as her dark ponytail swings with the movement.
The tone of her voice contains awe, and I realize just how passionate she is about this. When we were young, I had always been the one who knew exactly what they wanted to do. Whereas Kara, she didn’t really have a clear plan. It was nice to be able to see her in her element, and to be able to provide her with a grander stage to practice on.
“So, can I watch?” Suddenly I want to see her do something, no matter how gross it is.
“Maybe another day, I just finished up my last round of clinical notes and am about to hang up the coat for the day.” She shrugs out of the white d
octor’s coat and reveals a form-fitting business casual dress that makes my mouth water. With the heels plumping up her ass, she looks like the best kind of happy hour treat, and I want to drink it all.
“Then let’s go to dinner.” I lace my fingers through hers, and her hand remains stiff.
People are watching us, especially her coworkers, and I raise an eyebrow. Kara turns on the charm, melting into me and nodding. She allows me to lead her out, but the minute we get in the car, she wrenches her hand away.
"You didn't have to come in, you know, you could have told me to come outside." She buckles in and crosses her legs, tossing her hair over her shoulder in an annoyed flick.
"We're supposed to be together, it's romantic for me to pick you up from work. You do remember how a relationship works, right?"
Kara makes a ticked off noise. "Now all anyone will see when they look at me is you."
"And is that so bad?" I preen.
She turns to me, her face turning a shade of red. "You may not realize it, but my entire high school existence was that way. Girlfriend on the arm of the football star, the hot guy, the musician. People referred to me as Dean's girlfriend before they called me by my actual name. Excuse me if I've outgrown those chains."
A pang of guilt mixed with surprise hits my stomach, because I never knew she felt that way. Back then, I thought we'd had no secrets. Apparently in the years since we'd broken up, there was more animosity that had been built than I'd realized.
"I didn't know that."
"There are a lot of things you didn't bother to follow up on after you left Elm Hill." I hear the pain in her tone.
We drive in silence the rest of the way to the restaurant, until we're at the curb and paps are snapping before we even get out of the car.
"We're eating at Nobu?" Kara can't hide the excited expression on her face.
"If you'll sit across from me that is." I roll my eyes that it only took one of LA's trendiest restaurants for her to speak again.
"I've seen this on like every reality TV show I've ever watched."
Who knew the caustic, witty girl had a guilty pleasure like trashy television shows?
I scoop around to her side and open the door after getting out, playing the ultimate gentleman. Immediately, I thread my hand through hers, whispering in her ear to cooperate because our pictures are going to be splashed everywhere.
I’ve been to Nobu dozens of times, probably close to a hundred over the years I’ve been a Hollywood A-lister, but it feels different with Kara by my side. Too cheesy, trying too hard. She doesn’t seem to see the varnish of fakeness coated over every surface, but it grated on my own nerves.
The hostess, some model or actress wannabe who keeps sneaking too many glances at us, escorts us to our table and leaves us the menu.
“Since I have to be on this fake ass date in the first place, I guess maxing out your credit card will make me feel better.” She puts on a sugar sweet smile.
My blood sparks in my veins at her dismissal of me. I didn’t expect us to fall in love—hell, maybe I thought it could happen—but so far, Kara has been nothing but ice cold to me. After everything she got out of the contract, she’s still acting like a frigid bitch rather than making the best of our situation.
“Well, you did seem to like my lips on yours the couple of times I’ve granted you a kiss.” I can’t help but cut her back.
Violet eyes across the table flicker with fury, but the waitress interrupts the tongue lashing Kara is about to unleash. We order, me my regular entree and a whiskey neat, and Kara lists off at least eight items on the menu and a three-hundred-dollar bottle of wine before pristinely folding her hands in her lap.
“The only reason I allow you to touch me is because there is a contract binding me to it, that you also paid me out from. Basically, I’m a high-class escort, which would usually be degrading. However, I’d rather relate myself to that profession than let you touch me out of free will. Because let’s get one thing straight … you will never touch me in a normal context again. I will never allow you to kiss me, fuck me, or otherwise out of sheer want … because that is the last thing I would ever desire. When you cheated on me, when you brought a girl back to your hotel room behind my back, it ended any fascination I had of ever being with you again.”
Her tongue is a razor, cutting the ventricles of my heart sharp and quick. They knock the wind out of me, her words, and leave me breathless across the table.
Kara has made it clear that while she may be helping my public image, it is all an act. There is absolutely no chance for vindication on my part, a fact that I should have faced sooner but was holding out hope wasn’t true.
Fine. She wanted nothing to do with me behind closed doors? Two could abide by those rules.
Chapter Sixteen
Kara
The next two weeks are a blur.
Between work, dates with Dean, and Hollywood events, I am so exhausted I practically drop every time I walk into the bedroom that has been designated as mine.
Some of the girls at the hospital have begun to be friendly … apparently, it’s not such a big deal who you date out here, since so many people are either famous or trying to be. Sure, I “snagged a bigger fish,” one of the girls told me this, but it didn’t make me special in any way like I’d feared. Kendra and Michelle were the two girls I’d started to eat lunch with, and for Los Angeles people, they were actually pretty cool and normal. Probably because they worked in my field and could discuss everyday things, like traffic and chipping pedicures. You know, things celebrities didn’t have to worry about.
I’ve spoken to Mom almost every day, and have assured her that I’m doing just fine. And really, I am. Besides the awkward, forced date conversations between Dean and I, and the fact that I still can’t stomach to look at him without thinking about what he did to me … everything is pretty good. My loans are paid off from the first disbursement of money I was given for signing the contract, a fact that both boggles my mind and makes me question just how much money my ex-boyfriend has.
I’ve gone out, still relatively unrecognizable even though the world knows my name now, to explore the West Coast in all of its glory. When I’m not tending to my job or obligations, I’ve been walking on the beach, exploring the coves of Malibu and its raw, awe-inspiring beauty. I took a day trip to see the touristy sights of Hollywood, something I thought would be corny but actually ended up enjoying immensely.
And now, I’m curled up in my giant room, with a cup of tea that is almost as good as the amazing pedicure I got the other day.
“I think I could live this lifestyle for a while, even if it comes with a ball and chain.” I snuggle back into my pillows, Heidi on the other end of the phone.
“I’m so fucking jealous, I want vampire facials and Fendi bags.” I can practically hear her pout.
“Ew, I am not having my own blood rubbed all over my face, no matter how cutting edge it’s supposed to be. But I did buy myself a nice pair of shoes from DSW with my contract money.” I look at the box in the corner that contains the cute maroon heels I bought.
“Leave it to you to buy warehouse shoes when Prada is right around the corner. Better yet, I’m sure they’d deliver some to your mansion for free. Please tell me you’ll fly me out there.”
“Of course, on my private jet.” I roll my eyes. “How is home? I miss it.”
This wasn’t a lie, I really did miss it. While this was a nice vacation away from my usual reality, despite the ball and chain I was hitched to, there was something about my usual routine that I was feeling nostalgic for.
“Boring ass New Jersey, is what it is. But the salon is doing well, we just booked a shoot with a modeling agency in the city so that’s good.”
She criticizes our home state, but deep down we both know that we could never fully live somewhere else. There is just something about our busy Garden State that can’t be replaced by another location.
Something falls in the hallway outsid
e my door, and I shoot up. I’ve felt comfortable here, but there is still the inkling in the back of brain that this isn’t my house.
“Wait, B … I hear something.” Now that I think about it, I don’t know if Dean has a security system, or how to use it.
And then my blood goes cold thinking I’m alone in this ginormous house, and there is a crashing sound from down the hall.
“Stay on the phone with me,” I whisper, slowly turning the handle to my door and creeping out into the hall.
A sound, I’m not sure if it’s a groan or a yelp, sounds from somewhere on the same floor I’m on, and instead of doing all of the things you scream at characters in scary movies to do, I walk toward it.
“What is it?” Heidi hisses.
“Shh!” I dismiss her.
Rustling gets louder, and I come upon the door to Dean’s bedroom. Is someone in there … stealing? My mind flashes to that bling ring crap I’d read about in middle school, and I could just imagine teenage stalkers trying on his leather jackets in the massive closet I’d snuck a peak at one day when he wasn’t home.
The door wasn’t closed all the way, and I could make out motion from the crack in it. The setting sun moved over his room, a darker version of mine, almost the colors of a stormy sea. Gray and dark green covered everything, and two vintage black guitars hung over the headboard of his bed.
“Oh, yeah …”
His voice catches my ear, and I realize that it’s not someone in the room … it’s Dean.
And another person.
“Kara, are you alive?” Heidi whispers into my ear; I forgot she was there.
I click her off, my stomach dropping like a roller coaster ride straight to my bare feet. My throat goes dry, bile trying to rise within it.
Dean sits with his back propped against the headboard, one arm reaching up to grip the top. He’s shirtless, the tattoos covering his arms and chest like an inky disease. His chin tilts up, eyes half-closed.
As Long As You Hate Me Page 6