by Kay Harris
I reached down to help carry her gear, since she was still clutching the coat that had become her lifeline when winter had arrived in Montana the day before in the form of a light snow and freezing cold wind. She let me carry all but one small bag, which was a novelty lately since she’d been increasingly stubborn about hauling her own stuff.
I followed her, a couple steps behind, into the dark theater. We piled the stuff against one wall and settled into chairs near the rear. We both immediately leaned back in the seats as they were designed to encourage. Both of our eyes focused on the blank screen above us.
“What should we have for dinner for tonight?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll just order a salad from room service…I have some things to work on.”
I shifted in my seat so I could look at Chelsea. She kept her gaze overhead. With a view of her from the side, I admired her profile. She had a soft nose, regal chin, and the most perfect cheeks I’d ever seen. She was absolutely beautiful. “Oh yeah? What are you working on?”
She shrugged. “Just a little something.”
“Like?”
She still didn’t look at me as she answered. “I have an idea for a short. I’m drawing out some storyboards. But…um…I’ll have to wait until I get home to really get started.”
“Oh yeah? Why?”
She shrugged again. “I need some help with the dialogue.”
“You need a writer,” I suggested.
She let out her breath. “Yes.”
“Well, you’re in luck. I’m a writer. And I happen to be free.”
“We’ll see,” was her lukewarm response.
I felt hurt and awkward. So, I turned back in my seat, head facing up, mirroring Chelsea’s position. We sat there in a deep silence for the next four minutes until the stupid show finally started. As the stars moved across the dome above me and a soothing voice blanketed us from the speakers at the edge of the room, my mind wandered.
I remembered, in vivid detail, a bright, sunny day in Des Moines, Iowa. We had walked through the sculpture park hand in hand. We’d moved slowly along the path through massive pieces of artwork. It had been a true mosey. Young families had passed us with kids who were just learning to walk. But we’d continued on our slow and peaceful stroll.
We’d talked the entire way. I remembered the amused smile on Chelsea’s face as I’d described the tour I’d accompanied my dad on at the age of fifteen. My awakening to the world as it really was, as well as my father’s fumbling attempts to soften my realizations, had provided her with ample entertainment.
I remembered she had told me a long story about a family vacation from her childhood. Her descriptions were acute and ripe with easily visualized mementos. Her ability to weave a story, using my own imagination as a tool, never failed to impress me.
Afterward, we’d eaten dinner at a twenty-four-hour breakfast place, then walked three miles through the city back to our hotel. We’d walked into her room and fallen on one another.
I remembered clearly the prolonged foreplay that night. We must have fooled around for nearly two hours before finally taking ourselves out of that wonderful moment of anticipation and sinking into one another.
I remembered feeling that night like I was closer to Chelsea than I’d ever been to anyone else in the world. I looked over at her in the darkened planetarium. Her face was stiff and distant, her eyes locked on the screen above her, and away from me. How had we gotten here?
Chapter 16
One week, three days ago—Seattle, Washington
I needed alone time with Chelsea, desperately. So, I’d casually suggested Chelsea take the night off from editing. But I’d done it in front of Tom. And that was the key because he’d joined in, and the two of us were able to bully her into it.
Then, I took her out to dinner at a dimly-lit Italian restaurant. We sat in a cozy booth, side by side, rather than across from one another, sipping wine and dwelling over appetizers when I reached under the table and gently stroked her knee.
Our conversation had been going well up until then. In fact, it had been going a lot better than our halted discussions of late. So I knew I was taking a big risk by turning things sexual. But Chelsea didn’t pause in her story. She just smiled and continued to tell me about Jack and Candace’s epic fight over whether or not they should enroll their puppy in “doggy daycare.”
I kept my hand there and slowly caressed her through her jeans. Then I moved my hand up. Over the course of the meal and our long, lazy conversation, I managed to move my hand all the up to the juncture of her thighs. And over dessert, my fingers got downright wicked.
Despite the barrier of her jeans between us, I could tell I was affecting her. Her eyes drooped, and she bit her lip, staring at me, hard. Her breathing was heavy.
“You wanna go?” I asked her, picking up the check and reluctantly moving my hand away from her.
She nodded.
We ran through the rain and into the arms of a waiting cab. Once we were nestled into the back, I pulled her across the leather seat so her thigh was pressed up against mine and put my hand under her blouse, allowing my thumb to trace the soft skin on her waist. Chelsea put her head on my shoulder and buried her lips in my neck. I thought I might die.
By the time we reached my hotel room, we were both frantic. After shutting the door, I pushed Chelsea up against it and kissed her hard. She met my enthusiasm and shoved her hands beneath my shirt. I pulled my lips away from hers long enough to help her unbutton it. She slid it over my shoulders and dropped it to the floor.
“I think you have an amazing body,” Chelsea whispered, running her hands from my shoulders to my chest. She licked her lips, then looked up at me.
I leaned down and started kissing her again. Then I lifted her by her hips, and she wrapped her legs around my waist. I wanted to enjoy Chelsea, but I was so desperate to have her I would have taken her right there, up against the door, if I hadn’t managed to calm myself enough to walk over to the bed.
I laid her in front of me while I stood at the end of the bed. She gazed up at me, her eyes so sweet and trusting, her mouth curled into a soft smile, and I felt my chest constrict.
The moment hung in the air. My body froze as my mind registered something important was happening to me.
But before I could figure it out, Chelsea pulled off her shirt, flinging it to the ground. Then she sat up just enough to unhook her bra, threw that off too, and fell back onto the bed. Her lying there, looking like a goddess on the bed in front me, completely distracted me from whatever had been happening before.
I pulled her jeans and panties off, slowly, watching her face the whole time. Then I fell to the floor at the end of the bed, hooked my hands behind her knees, slid her toward me, and draped her legs over my shoulders. I licked and sucked at her with my tongue while my hands slid slowly up and down the smooth skin at her thighs.
My senses were on overload, consumed with the feel of her, the taste of her, and the sound of her pleasure. The noises Chelsea made were almost too much for me. I felt as though making her feel these things was what my mouth was literally made for. Lost in a trance of her making, I almost didn’t notice when she tugged on my hair.
I looked up to see Chelsea, half sitting on the bed, pulling at me desperately. “Please, Henry. Please. I need you.”
I didn’t waste any time. I practically leapt out of my own jeans, threw on a condom, and fell on the bed, propping myself up above her. I leaned down and kissed her. She moaned and pulled at my waist, her fingers digging into my flesh. I gave her what she wanted, what we both wanted. I lifted her knees up, spreading her legs wide, and sank into her soft body.
Chelsea’s lips found my neck, her hands gripped my ass, and her breasts pressed against my chest. Once again, I was swimming in the sensations of her. Without any control over my own body, spurred on by her urgency, I surged into her over and over, feeling like each time might be the greatest thing I’d ever felt.
She gave me a deep, urgent kiss before sitting up on her knees. Her hands ran over my chest, and her perfect mouth curved in a sinful smile. I loved this playful side of Chelsea. I had to get her naked to fully bring it out, but once it emerged, everything got so much hotter.
“You want me to come, don’t you, Henry?” she purred.
I could only nod, hoping to express with my eyes how very much I wanted that.
She moved on top of me. At first, she focused on me, watching my face as she produced involuntary changes—my eyes growing wide and narrowing, clenching closed, my mouth dropping open, then closing, then chomping down on my lower lip.
Eventually though, the sensations running through her own body became too much for her. She threw her head back, moaning as she increased our pace. I gripped her hips and pumped up into her as she began to shiver with her orgasm. And as she came around me, I completely lost it, giving her everything I had.
****
“I don’t understand why you have go,” I whined as I watched Chelsea button her jeans just moments after we’d finished having what was undeniably the most explosive and meaningful sex of my life.
Her back to me, I could see her chest move as she took a deep breath. After a beat, she turned around. “I should have said this a while ago. I should have…”
I sat up in the bed. “What?”
She took another deep breath and looked away from me. “We have to end this.”
“What? Why?” I bolted out of the bed and stood at its foot, naked and anxious.
Chelsea met my gaze. “Remember we said we’d end it, like that.” She snapped her fingers. “Well, the time has come.”
I didn’t know what was going on with me, but I did know I didn’t want this to end. “Why?”
She took another breath and looked away from me again, her gaze landing on the silent television sitting on top of the dresser. “We have to stick to the rules, Henry.”
I took a step back from her as I realized what was happening. “You’re interested in someone,” I said quietly, realization hitting me like a cement truck.
Chelsea’s head snapped up, and for a split second, she looked surprised. Then she nodded. My knees tried to buckle, and I locked them beneath me.
“Who?” I asked weakly.
“Not important.”
“Bullshit!” I shouted before I could contain my reaction. “I mean, damn.” I ran my hand through my hair. “I thought we were best friends. I thought you could tell me anything.”
Chelsea was way calmer than me. She moved toward me, putting a hand on my shoulder. “And I will. But not right now. We need to take a little time to adjust. After all, our friendship is the most important thing, right?”
I nodded.
“So, let’s take care of it. Let’s just adjust to this first. Then we’ll talk. And I’ll tell you everything.”
“Okay,” I said, feeling like I was being coerced into something I did not want to do.
Chelsea kissed my cheek and walked out the door, leaving me naked in the middle of the room, feeling like I’d just lost my best friend.
****
One week, one day ago—Portland, Oregon
“Surprise!” Chelsea shouted as she pulled her hand away from my face.
I looked out the open door of the van and up at the marquee sign above the doors to the venue. The words “Ten Frozen Toes” graced it. “No way!”
“Happy birthday!” Tom said from the driver’s seat, just before getting out of the van.
I hopped out onto the sidewalk to join him, Chelsea at my side. Aside from the artificial light, it was dark as hell out there, thanks to the cloudy, starless night. It made the sign stand out even more. “We’re going to a Toes concert?”
“You like?” Chelsea asked.
I turned to look at her. Her face was lit up, not by the dim lights of the street but by her own internal glow.
“I love it,” I told her. “I’ve been a fan of the band for years, but I’ve never seen them in concert.”
“I know,” Chelsea said smugly.
“Not to wreck your birthday,” Tom said, reaching beside me into the van. “But we do have a permit to film.” He pulled a bag out and hefted it onto his shoulders.
I rolled my eyes. “Figures.”
Chelsea gave Tom a stern look. “Easy B-roll only, some simple sound takes. Nothing elaborate. We’re here to celebrate Henry’s birthday, not put him to work.”
“Sure thing. Come on.” Tom tossed the keys to a valet and walked into the concert hall through the front door.
We appeared to be early for the show. Only a handful of people milled about in the lobby, and a small line was forming at the ticket window. I followed Tom and Chelsea as they walked through the lobby toward closed doors that led to the theater.
I looked around at the art deco lobby of the venue while Tom talked to someone on staff. So I wasn’t paying attention to the conversation until I heard the guy Tom was talking to say, “Wait here, just for a moment.”
He said it kind of loudly, so I turned my head to see him staring at me. Then the guy disappeared. “What’s going on, Tom?” I asked.
“I don’t know. We have a permit. But the guy got all weird when he saw you.”
“Maybe he doesn’t like you,” Chelsea said to me, a snarky look on her face.
I rolled my eyes at her. I liked that we were back to bantering, so I suppressed my smile. “Lots of people don’t like me. They say I’m prickly.”
“Hmmm. Good description,” she quipped.
A few minutes later, the guy returned. Again, he addressed me. “Come with me, please, sir.”
Sir? What the hell was this? I looked at Tom, but he just shrugged and followed the guy through a side door. I gestured for Chelsea to go in front of me, then I followed her through the door. Even though I’d never been in this particular hall before, I knew from having been in countless concert venues that this route most likely led backstage.
We followed a predictable pattern of hallways and corridors until we were deep inside the backstage area. There were several nondescript doors back there, and the staff member we’d been following stopped in front of one.
“The guys are big fans,” he said to me.
“Of the show?” I asked, surprised a rock band watched our lame show on a sub-par cable channel.
“Show?” he asked, looking confused.
Before I could figure out what was going on, the door swung open, and there stood Eddie Trane, lead singer of Ten Frozen Toes. “Holy shit! Henry Rush!” He leaped toward me, his hand extended. Despite my shock, I managed to shake it. “Come on in, man.” Eddie pulled the door wide and indicated we should enter.
I put my hand on Chelsea’s lower back and ushered her in ahead of me. Tom was at my heels. The small green room looked like a dozen others I’d been in with my dad over the years. A vanity with a mirror and sink sat at one end of the room, a small round table with a couple of chairs in the center, and a worn couch shoved in the far corner with a battered end table beside it.
“Man, it is good to meet you,” Eddie said to me. “Hey, John,” he called at the staff member. “Bring the other guys in. Tell them he’s here.”
I suddenly realized that, while I’d come here to see a band I liked perform, I’d just become the center of attention. My stomach curled, and I turned to Tom. He frowned and mouthed, “I’m sorry.”
“I have to tell you, Henry, I’m a huge fan of your dad’s. Huge. We all are. He has seriously influenced our music.”
I’d turned my attention back to Eddie with these words. I knew my movements were wooden, as was the smile on my face, no doubt. I tried to loosen my muscles as Eddie insisted I sit on the couch. Chelsea plopped down next to me, and that’s where we remained as the rest of t
he band tumbled into the room.
I had just finished shaking all their hands and accepting their compliments on my dad’s music when I felt Chelsea’s hand slip into mine. I wrapped her small palm in mine and turned to look at her. She gave me the sweetest smile. And for the first time since we walked into that room, I felt like I could breathe.
We sat there for at least half an hour. I tuned the entire thing out. I desperately wanted to continue enjoying this band and their music. Which meant I needed to sit there, smile, and daydream, blocking out their inane chatter. And that is exactly what I did.
When it was finally over, we were escorted back to the concert hall, now teeming with people. The crowd didn’t seem to notice me, thank God, as we made our way to an inconspicuous spot at one end of the hall.
“Was it bad?” Chelsea asked, her face close to my ear as I leaned against the wall.
I shrugged.
“Come on, talk to me,” she urged.
I turned to her. She was looking at me like she used to. I really liked that. So I looped my arm around her waist and pulled her closer to me. She didn’t resist. Then I moved my head down, using the noisy concert hall as an excuse to get my mouth close to hers.
“I went on my first tour with my dad at fifteen. It was my idea. I begged him to go. My parents spent weeks debating it, then when they finally decided to let me go, they spent even more time ‘preparing me’ for it. I thought they were being ridiculously overcautious. But it turns out, they weren’t.”
“So you were exposed to a lot of sex, drugs, and rock ’n’ roll?” she asked.
“A little. But that wasn’t a big deal. There wasn’t any more of that than at my high school. No. The problem was the way people treated me. I’d been pretty sheltered as a kid. I went to school in Malibu. Hell, half the kids I knew had famous parents. And I was nerdy, so…aside from the girl problems I already told you about…I wasn’t a big deal. But on tour, everywhere we went, I was nearly as famous as my dad. It’s like with those guys.” I point my finger in the direction of the backstage area. “They treat me like I’m the rock star. But, in fact, they are all star struck over my genes.”