by Alex Rosa
“This is what I get for helping out a friend? You get wasted off your ass, I take care of you, and this is the thanks I get?”
I close my eyes, trying to grab ahold of a foggy memory that I sense is linked to her thick floral perfume. Then it hits me. I remember the reflection of Kathryn’s face kissing up my neck to my mouth in the elevator walls. I could puke all over again. My eyes fly open.
“I don’t remember much, but I remember you trying to make a move, clearly,” I reply crisply.
Her face turns as yellow and pale as the dress she’s still wearing. “I . . . I . . .”
My gut contorts, writhing with anger, frustration, and something else I can’t put my finger on.
“Kathryn,” I grumble, moving my hands to my eyes, digging my fingers into their sockets until I see stars. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Surprising even me, the words come out breathy and calm, and with a dash of pity.
When I finally turn to look at her I can see the beginning of tears welling in her eyes. I can’t deal with this.
“I’m sorry,” she exclaims with a whimper. “I shouldn’t have. I was being stupid. It didn’t matter though, you kept saying Skyler’s name over and over again in my ear, like a mantra, and I think at one point you thought I was her. I was so embarrassed at that point I tried getting you back to your room, but you could barely walk. I couldn’t carry you. I didn’t know what to do. I tried calling Josh with your phone, but he didn’t pick up. So, I dragged you here.” She drops her face to her hands in shame.
I release a breath, and it feels like steam as it passes between my lips. I swear to God, I think I hear her sniffle. I seriously don’t want to deal with this.
I grind my teeth.
Why do I feel bad? I shouldn’t. I know her breakup has been driving out her insecurities, and I’m sure me shouting out another girl’s name didn’t help, but she was taking advantage of the situation. She was trying to take advantage of me. I’m torn between running and consoling her. Both feel fucking annoying, either way.
“Dammit,” I huff.
She lifts her face. “I really am sorry. I’m a mess. Just an absolute mess. I was so, so stupid. You don’t have to forgive me, but just know I’m sorry. I shouldn’t go around screwing up other people’s happiness just because I’m jealous. God, that feels so embarrassing to admit out loud. Shit. I’m sorry I—”
“Kat, stop. It’s fine.” It’s not fine, but I don’t take it back, and instead swallow down the bile that wants to rise up my throat while I’m forcing more words. “Nothing happened, anyway. We can brush this under the rug.” I try not saying this through gritted teeth. I unclench my jaw. “I know things have been hard on you, and I wish I could be the friend you need, but the truth is, I have a lot that I need to handle, too. How can I manage your stuff and mine? Do you understand? We’re friends, but I can barely manage the few I have, let alone deal with this transition, okay? I care about you, and as much as what you did isn’t cool, I don’t—” I exhale sharply. “I don’t want this messing everything up. We have two more weeks of filming. It’s been short and sweet, but we’re a big deal right?” I emphasize the words big deal, knowing that’s her favorite term for us since we met.
She lifts sad, round eyes to mine. “You don’t have to be so nice to me right now.”
“I know I don’t, but . . . it’s not worth it otherwise. I just need my phone, and I need to call my girlfriend. We’re good.”
“We’re good?” she repeats back, the corner of her mouth twitching with hope.
I nod. “As good as we’re going to get right now. Sure, I was angry before, but let’s just let it go. Nothing happened. We made some stupid decisions, but in the end we’re fine. Okay?”
She takes in a calming breath of her own. “Skyler’s really lucky.”
My lips press into a hard, reassuring line that resembles a smile as I nod. I still cannot stop my bass drum of a heart from reverberating in my skull.
She stands from the bed, wobbling a bit as she does, and goes to her purse, pulling out my phone. She hands it back to me. “I’m glad I kept you from texting or calling her, though. You were pretty far gone.”
I know she’s right in this regard. “Thanks, I guess.”
“Is it weird to ask for a hug?”
I sigh, and offer her a sad smile to match her own. I don’t want to give her a hug. I just don’t, and I worry that it makes me an asshole, but I don’t think I care enough.
“I’m just heartbroken, Blake. People like me do desperate, foolish things when they’re struggling to stay afloat.”
Her words strike a chord, but my involuntary shake of my head says it all. I won’t. She looks on the verge of tears, but I honestly can’t make myself care anymore. I think I’ve given as much kindness to the situation as I can muster, and I’ve never been that nice a guy anyway.
The only thing on my mind now is how something like this could have me potentially losing Skyler, and I won’t let anyone get in the way of that. I won’t fuck this up.
Trying for a happy medium, I lightly place my hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently before pulling away. “We’ve all been there, Kat.”
She nods, and I try to ignore her sniffle before she says, “Your shoes are near the door.”
“Thanks.”
Her eyes droop to hint at remorse and sadness, but I have no want to stick around longer. I need space. I want to leave. I have a phone call to make.
I try to act as if I’m not running away, but my long strides are quick and determined. I slip my shoes on less than calmly before sprinting out her hotel room door.
If it were possible, my chest gets tighter the moment I hit the open hallway. Never in my life have I feared being in public, but now I do. Especially with the fact that Josh could be anywhere. I need to get to my room as soon as possible. He wouldn’t believe me if I tried to explain why I was creeping out of Kathryn’s door, so it’s better to avoid the entire encounter if I can.
I peer down at my phone as I jog to the nearest elevator, powering it back on.
Ding.
I step into the elevator, eyes glued to the phone. The elevator rises, and my guts plummet with the gravitational pull . . . or with guilt and remnants of alcohol.
I shouldn’t have drunk all that alcohol. I should’ve made an appearance and come back to my room.
My phone is on, but the elevator blocks out cell service. I’m sweating and nauseous. I might have dodged a bullet with my morning, but I can’t seem to stop the panic.
Everything feels wrong.
I just need to hear Skyler’s voice. That’s it. She’s so much smarter than me. She’ll have a way to relax me. I chew the inside of my cheek so hard I worry it might bleed, knowing I can’t confess where I ended up even if nothing happened. Skyler wouldn’t understand. She wouldn’t want to. She’d drop me. I wouldn’t be worth the turmoil.
Ding.
The elevator doors spring open, and I jog back to my room, thankful that my wallet, which includes my room key, is still in my back pocket.
I step inside, closing the door behind me, and release my first real breath.
My shoulders drop; even my spine feels like it realigns in the presence of real privacy.
I unbutton my vest, then my shirt, peeling them from my body. It feels damp with feelings I don’t want to feel.
I clench my eyes shut as I toss the garments across the room.
I just want to feel like I have a solid grip, and the only time I ever do is when I’m home. I need Skyler near me. This transition is as hard for me as it is for her. I know she struggles, but I wish she could sense how out of control I feel.
My phone begins a series of doo-doops as it regains service.
I look down seeing that I have two missed calls and three missed text messages.
I gulp down my stress
, forcing myself to investigate.
My brows furrow as my eyes scan through my phone calls. Only one missed call from Skyler. The rest are Josh.
I know the fact that I only have one missed call from her should make the whole morning feel less menacing, but I only feel more guilt.
It’s already eleven in the morning—the sunshine nearly in the middle of the sky is proof. Which means it’s eight her time.
It could be too early, but I don’t care.
I dial her number.
She answers on the second ring.
“Babe . . .” I release breathlessly before she can speak.
“Yeah?” she replies brusquely, and I don’t know how to handle her tone. Acid burns deep in my gut.
She couldn’t know, could she . . . ?
“Babe?” I question, rubbing at my temples as I sit myself on the edge of my bed, grasping at straws of sanity. “I love you,” It doesn’t make sense to say, but it’s the only thing on my mind.
She sighs into the phone. “So, you know I’m mad, then?”
The bass drum in my chest reaches a pounding decibel level in my head.
She continues, “I saw you and Kathryn on TV—”
I’m on the verge of sputtering an apology. I’m about to tell her that whatever she saw isn’t what she thinks and that I didn’t fuck Kathryn. “I—”
“Why don’t you ever tell me when you do social things on TV and when you have to take Kathryn as your date? I saw your segment about that party you went to. I wouldn’t have found it so shocking if I were warned. I knew we’d hit these walls, but I just wish I felt more prepared.”
Is she pissed off? Yes. But is she pissed off about what I assumed? I don’t think so.
“You’re mad?” I ask, running a hand through my damp, oily hair.
“Of course I’m mad, Blake! I don’t like those kinds of surprises! I was at Gio’s, and he had to watch me freak out. It was embarrassing. He tried telling me what I saw meant nothing, and I know none of it did, but she kissed you on the cheek. I saw it. I know it’s for the cameras, and you two are supposed to be friends, and even if it was friendly, it makes me feel god-awful.”
A new fear swells in my gut. “Gio?”
“Don’t change the subject!”
Her tone bites and nips at my pulsing headache. I wince. If what I was feeling could be described in one word, I would choose hurricane.
I don’t know what to feel; relief, nausea, guilt, fear, jealousy—it’s all swirling around inside me, crashing and thrashing within, with no real goal in sight, but making me feel it all at once. It all grinds through every fiber of my being, and that feeling of being lost only expands.
“Skyler, please . . .” I need you. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
She lets the silence hang for longer than it needs to, and it’s as if I can hear her thinking. “Blake, what’s wrong?”
Aw, fuck. Don’t comfort me. I don’t deserve it.
“I just miss you so fucking much. I went to that party, and it was a mistake. I wanted to be in the hotel room to call you. You’re all I could think about. I drank too much. I was being stupid. I don’t want to not tell you things. I just don’t know what I can and cannot say.”
A harsh sigh echoes into the phone. “You can say everything. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. What are you protecting me from? You’re hurting me more by holding back because you’re worried how it might make me feel. That’s not how this works. Look what happened.”
“I didn’t want to go with Kathryn. I wished it were you with me. I’d let you do whatever you wanted to me when I walked that carpet. I don’t fucking care. I just need you by my side.”
I’m whining. I’m practically pleading like a lost puppy for her, and I hate myself for it, but I don’t want to fight back how much I miss her.
“I wish I could be there, but it’s not like you invite me to those things. You asked me to go with you to New York, but you didn’t tell me why. And you’re sounding so sad. It’s killing me.”
She’s pleading with me, too. We’re in the same boat, the same tiny life raft.
I fall back onto the mattress.
“I didn’t know I’d be going to that party. Josh sprang it on me last minute. I always want you with me, but I don’t want you any more distracted from school.”
She releases another sigh, and I worry I sense a sniffle. “I miss you.”
This has officially been our hardest time apart.
“I miss you, too. I’ll never not tell you anything again. I’ve been an idiot. Starting now, it gets better. Please come with me to this awards show when I get back. It’s a midweek, stuffy, bowtie, prestigious sort of show. I won’t be able to stand it without you. I love being an actor, but I hate this social part without you. I kept thinking I was protecting you—”
“You’re not, though. I’m scared of all of it, I am. I know you sense that, but it doesn’t mean I want to be left out. We do this together, remember? This is what being in a relationship is about. We don’t choose for each other, but we stay by each other’s side.”
“I love you so fucking much. Are you still mad?”
“Yes, but I’m not murderous-mad anymore. Although, I did at one point consider an irrational rampage. It would have been a crime of passion, I’m telling you,” Skyler says.
I close my eyes while letting a smile spread through my lips. “You love me that much that it’d drive you into a homicidal rage?”
“We’re talking Law and Order status here.”
A laugh breaks through my stress, and it feels so good. “Just pin it on your brother,” I chortle.
“That’s what they’d expect! Have you not seen the show?” She releases my favorite sound of girlish giggles, and it finally feels like the morning is leveling out.
“How about we skip the felony, and I just come home, and we screw like rabbits until your brother makes a noise complaint?”
“You’ve officially lost your mind.”
“Oh, a long time ago, babe.”
The lull in conversation is a comforting one, and I swear I could fall asleep to the hum of her breathing.
With the corners of my mouth still lifted in a comfortable smile, I say, “I’m gonna make it up to you when I come back, Skye. I mean it. Just a couple more weeks of filming, and it’ll be easier to get a grip on everything.”
“You don’t have to do that. This is a learning curve for both of us, but we do have a lot to talk about.”
My eyes spring open, her words reminding me of something. “You said you were with Gio yesterday.”
She doesn’t hesitate. I can’t tell if that soothes me, or only feeds the fire of my jealousy. “I was. I needed a friend, Blake. I don’t have anyone else. I’ve been . . . stressed, to say the least.”
I want to tackle the Gio thing head-on, but my mind is skipping to all the pertinent things that are going on that we haven’t covered. “How’s school? Have you heard from any med schools yet?”
The grumble I hear isn’t soothing, that’s for sure.
“Like I said, stressed. We have a lot to talk about, and I need you here to help me clear my head, figure stuff out, and all that. I was overwhelmed last night, and I didn’t want to bother you, and Gio was free, unlike everyone else I know, so I took the opportunity.”
I remember that Vanessa was here with Josh, and that Skyler mentioned Tucker has a new boyfriend, and I suddenly realize I’ve left her to be an island. I don’t like the thought.
“But you did call me last night?” I ask, remembering her missed call.
“I did, but that was after I saw you with Kathryn.”
The knot in my stomach is back with a vengeance.
I had sent Skye into her own panic, and she called me seeking solace.
I clench my eyes shut.
/> “Oh . . .” I suck in a breath. “We’re just going to have a me-and-you day, Skye. When I get back, I want us to talk about everything.”
“I want all of that. I love you.”
“I love you, too, even if you become a homicidal maniac because of our undying love.”
“Just come home to love me.”
“It’s at the top of my list.” I lift my head to look at the time, thinking how to lighten the mood. “Actually, are you near a computer?”
I can practically hear her eyes rolling, and I adore it. “I am not Skyping you naked.”
“But it’s a hangover cure, didn’t you know? You’d be helping me out.”
“’Bye, Blake. When you get back you might get the real deal if you earn it.”
“Is that a challenge?” I chide, basking in our foreplay three thousand miles apart.
“It’s most definitely a challenge, and I won’t accept failure.”
God, I love her.
Chapter 14
Skyler
Blake hasn’t been back twenty-four hours and he insisted on date night immediately.
I didn’t realize his flight was so early until he crawled into my bed at eight this morning. He kissed me on my forehead, hushed me before I could screech my excitement. His face was as strained and tired as my heart felt, so I obeyed. I was too shell-shocked by his stunning, dark green eyes to speak anyway. I reached out for him, wrapped my arms tightly around his waist as if I didn’t want this dream to dissolve and disappear. He gripped me just as tight, and that’s when I knew the weight on my heart is a mutual feeling, and I hate it.
I’m hell-bent on making this better.
I smooth out my charcoal sweaterdress and look down at my boots, liking the grunge contrast. I run my fingers through my thick, wavy hair, feeling at least content with the cooperation of my appearance as I examine my black eyeliner and purple eye shadow. I’ve been practicing pretty dirt in the boring lulls of Blake’s busy work schedule.
I feel pretty. Oh, so pretty . . .
Blake appears at the top of the steps. The curve to his lips is the same smirk that will forever ignite my erratic heart, but his eyes are that dark shade of green. Troubled.