Fall Into Love

by Melody Anne

  My breath whooshed out of my lungs.

  I knew whose room this was.

  There was no way I’d spent the night with Gavin. He was with Veronica. And I was, well, not her.

  I threw off the covers and hissed in surprise as the air-conditioning hit my bare flesh. A deep seed of panic gripped my stomach as I realized I was clad in only my new bra and panties. My insides lurched. I slammed my hand over my mouth and ran to the door I assumed was the entrance to the bathroom.

  I was wrong.

  But I was also too late.

  I heaved into the closet, trying to avoid the expensive-looking shirts and jackets and managing to make a mess of a pair of black shoes.

  When I’d collected myself, I stared at what I’d done in horror and slammed the door shut as though the barrier might rid the world of the evidence.

  The room was large but sparsely furnished, which should’ve made finding my clothes easy. Except they weren’t on any of the chairs or the table. They weren’t on the desk under the television. And they certainly weren’t anywhere in the bathroom I eventually discovered.

  I used the facilities and splashed cold water on my face, wincing as I spotted my reflection. Makeup rimmed my eyes with black. My face was pale from being sick, and my hair plastered itself to my forehead and neck.

  I peeped out of the bathroom door and, to my horror, a maid stood at the bed, fluffing the pillows.

  Oh my God. What if she looked in the closet?

  I had to get out of there before that happened.

  Two white robes hung on the back of the bathroom door and I wrapped one around me, grateful to at least have something covering my goose-bump-ridden flesh. I tied the robe closed and slipped out the door, nodding at the maid as I passed through another door I hoped led to the exit and not another closet.

  The door exited into a hall that, in turn, brought me to an expansive living room. Gavin lay on the couch, shirtless, one arm slung across his eyes and mouth open. His chest rose and fell with the rhythm of someone who had settled into a deep sleep. I wondered if he snored.

  As if he knew what I was thinking, his hand fell from his face and his nose crinkled like he was snorting. I jumped away from him and ran to the entrance, grabbing my purse from the table beside the door as I went.

  I flew down the hall in my robe, forgoing the elevator and choosing the stairs in the hopes I’d be alone. It wasn’t until my feet hit the cold tile of the stairwell that I realized I’d left without shoes.

  Thankfully, the hotel had grown accustomed to guests leaving the hotel under secrecy since the Viking Moon cast and crew had taken residence there. The manager took one look at my messy hair and robe-clad form when I reached the lobby and called for a town car. The driver took me to my campus without a word, and I wandered barefoot across the lawn, barely noticed in my ensemble as many others stumbled home in their own walks of shame.

  • • •

  I braced myself for Reggie’s anger as I cradled the doorknob to our room. She had every right to scream at me, or hit me if she needed. I’d been a class-A bitch, and I was ready to admit it and beg for her forgiveness. The knob twisted in my hand and I pushed the door open. My eyes swept the room and I froze in the entrance.

  Reggie was still sleeping, curled in her bed, hair covering most of her face. And curved beneath her, chest rising and falling under her cheek, was Clint. Their clothes decorated the floor in front of the bed, and I grinned when I noticed Clint still wore his hat.

  I tiptoed to my closet and grabbed some clean clothes and my shower kit. As I left for the bathroom, I eased the door closed behind me, hoping it was quiet.

  It being early Saturday afternoon, the showers were crowded with hungover girls scrubbing off last night’s makeup and debauchery. I finally snagged an empty stall and hung the hotel robe on the door. The water was ice cold. It stung, but it was what my body needed to wake up from its alcohol-induced haze.

  I reached for my peach bodywash. As the fruit-scented soap dripped down my body, I followed its foamy path with my fingers, pausing at my scars. A long mark, similar to the one on my face, snaked down my left breast, just over my heart. My hand slid lower. I knew, from seeing it in the mirror far too many times, the one covering my stomach resembled something akin to a spiderweb; a deep white scar in the middle bursting into pink and white beneath my breasts and below my belly.

  The doctors said I was lucky. The blast should’ve killed me. If the shards had been only a few inches higher, they might’ve pierced my heart. It was fortunate for me I’d walked away with only a few scars and the inability to hear anything ever again.

  I hated those words.

  Fortunate. Lucky.

  Tell that to the beautiful music I’d never get to listen to. Tell that to the boys who were too disgusted to touch me. Tell that to the child I hoped to have one day when I didn’t come running at their cry. Tell me, again, how lucky I was. I brought my palms to my face and sobbed.

  Gooseflesh covered my body and I was shivering by the time I turned off the faucets. I wrapped a towel around my hair and one around my body before heading to the main bathroom area. I found a square of mirror and brushed my teeth.

  When a toilet stall opened up, I went in and changed in privacy, relief flooding my body as I pulled on my favorite pair of jeans and a green sweater. I ran a brush through my hair and wandered back to my room.

  Clint was sitting on the edge of Reggie’s bed by the time I opened the door. Thankfully, he’d already pulled on his pants and shirt. He looked up as I walked in and gave me a half smile. Reggie didn’t stir.

  “Hey,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry about last night. I acted like an ass. I—”

  He held up a hand to shush me. “It’s all good, darlin’, as long as you’re all right. Are you?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. My head wants me dead and my stomach is screaming for something greasy, but I’m okay.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” He drifted across the room and laid a hand on my shoulder. “You were pretty determined to drink something away last night. You wanna talk about it?”

  “Naw,” I said, adopting his accent. “It’s fine. It’s over. As long as you and Reg don’t hate me.”

  “Well, I can’t talk for her, but I certainly don’t hate you. Though I’m sure you’ve figured out my bad news.”

  “Bad news?”

  He gestured to my still sleeping roommate. “Well, me and Regina are kind of a thing now. I’m sorry, but I won’t be able to take you on that date once you’re done with your show. I’m a one-woman kind of guy.”

  Despite the pain in my head, a grin erupted on my face. “Are you kidding? I’m so happy for you guys. Really. I think you’re a perfect match.”

  A movement from Reggie’s bed drew my eye as my roommate propped herself up on her elbows. “What’s going on here?” she asked, rubbing her eyes while glaring at me. So finally landing Clint hadn’t erased her anger at me for last night. I couldn’t really blame her. I’d been such an ass.

  “I was just congratulating Clint on his choice of woman,” I said. “I’m so happy for you two.”

  Reggie seemed to realize at that moment that she was naked beneath her pink comforter. She pulled the blanket up to her chin and sat with her back against the wall.

  “You are? Really?”

  “Yes.” I sat on the end of her bed, watching her leg for any indication she might kick me off. “And I’m sorry I was such an asshat last night. I don’t know what got into me.”

  “Besides a crapload of vodka?”

  “Besides that. You’re one of the few friends I have, and I’m such an idiot for doing anything that would ruin that. Please say you’ll forgive me.”

  She played with a loose thread on the comforter, pulling it taut and releasing it. It took her a few moments to answer. “You won’t do anything like that again?”

  “I swear,” I said. “Friendship first. Besides, Clint isn’t even my type. No offense, cowboy.”


  “Only a bit taken, darlin’.” He grinned.

  Reggie dropped the thread, and her face lit up into her usual cheerful smile. “Okay, I forgive you.”

  She threw her arms around my neck and I was grateful for the blanket between us, ’cause it would’ve been weird otherwise. Scratch that. It was still weird.

  I gently pushed her off me and smiled. “Thank you, but maybe you should get dressed first?”

  Her nightshirt lay at the end of the bed and I tossed it to her before Clint tapped me on the shoulder.

  “You said you need some greasy food?” he asked. I nodded. “Leave it to me. I’ll let you gals catch up and I’ll be back soon.”

  By the time he closed the door, Reggie had slipped on her nightshirt and a pair of shorts. She pulled her legs to her chest and scanned me so intently I almost felt the need to cross my arms over my torso.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Now that he’s gone, you can tell me what happened.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Last night. You were fine. Last I saw, you had one glass of wine in your hand, which you seemed disgusted by. Then you disappeared for a bit. By the time you returned, you were determined to win the title of ‘biggest drunken whore at a celebrity Halloween party.’ ”

  “That’s a pretty narrow category.”

  She didn’t return my grin. “Well, you won. I’ll even get you a trophy, if you want. Now, spill.”

  I sighed and shifted on the bed so my back was pressed against the wall. From there, I couldn’t see her face or watch her speak as I told her what happened with Tanner. Shame burned up my neck to my cheeks as I explained his reaction to my scars and the way he’d discarded me like a piece of trash.

  When I finally got up the nerve to look at Reggie, her face was as red as I imagined mine to be. Her eyes flashed with anger.

  “What a douche bag!” she said. “I mean, even douche bag isn’t harsh enough. Douchiest douche bag of them all? First of all, he’s like ten years older than you.”

  “Six, actually.”

  “Okay, whatever. He’s a jerk. You should just quit. No point in staying on set.”

  I closed my eyes for a moment and pressed the back of my head into the wall. “I don’t want to quit over this. I’m needed there and I like my job. I can see him again and not lose it. It really isn’t about that. It was just . . . he wasn’t the first guy to react that way when they saw my body.”

  She touched my wrist to get my attention. “He’s still an asshole, Elise. I mean, who cares if you have scars? Last night, don’t you think I was terrified when Clint took off my clothes? I begged him to turn off the light. Instead, he made sure to kiss every inch and tell me I was beautiful. El, that’s a lot of inches!”

  “But you are beautiful,” I said.

  “So are you. And any guy who can’t see that is an idiot. If you won’t quit your job, can I at least kick his ass?”

  I laughed and shook my head. “No. It’s fine. Though it’s gonna be so awkward having to face him on Monday.”

  Her fingers tightened around my wrist. “Aubrey will be with you. Maybe she can kick his ass.”

  “I highly doubt it. She’d probably tell me it was my fault.”

  “Well, she’s a bitch, El.”

  “I thought you said she was just socially awkward.”

  “I was in denial. I know a bitch when I see one.” Reggie sighed. “It breaks my heart, of course. I love her books so much, and I wanted to love her, too. But I’ve seen the way she talks to you, and you don’t deserve that. Friends come first. Hos before . . . authors . . . or something like that. Besides, I don’t need to like her to like her books. I can just pretend someone else wrote them.”

  I bit my lip. There it was. My opening to tell Reggie the truth about who I was. But then Tanner’s face flashed through my head, and the look he got when he saw what I really was underneath. No, the truth just made things worse.

  “I wish you’d come and told me after it happened,” Reggie continued. “We could’ve gone home. You didn’t need to flush him out of your system with booze.”

  “I know,” I said. “That’s not something I usually do. And based on the way my head is screaming at me right now, it’s not something I’ll do again soon.”

  “Good.” Reggie rested her head on my shoulder and her hair tickled my cheek.

  “Thanks for forgiving me. I’m really sorry.”

  She peeked up at me. “I know. Now, can we finally talk about how delectable Gavin Hartley looked last night? I mean, come on. His rocker pirate look put Johnny Depp to shame.”

  I settled against the wall, the tension of the night seeping out of my shoulders. “Well, I don’t know about that, but he did look good in that unbuttoned shirt. Those abs could be considered a national treasure.”

  “And his eyes! With the guyliner? How do some men look better in eye makeup than me? It’s not fair!”

  We burst into giggles, leaning on each other and discussing which actors looked the best in their costumes. We were still laughing when the scent of greasy food wafted in from down the hall, indicating that our lunch had arrived.

  October crashed into November with the fury of a thousand pissed-off Greek gods. The thunderstorms canceled any hope of filming the show, so I spent the rest of the weekend huddled in my room, laptop on my knees, staring at my still unfinished first draft of the new book. For some reason, I was having a harder time than ever slipping into Dag’s and Thora’s skins. It had been so easy for the first three books, but they seemed like strangers to me now. I wasn’t sure if it was because every time I imagined Dag, Gavin’s face would dominate my mind, or if it was plain old writer’s block.

  I set my computer aside and picked up the script for the show. Stan had asked Veronica to go over the second half and make notes if anything seemed off. I worked away on the pages, crossing out anything that seemed out of character and adding words or phrases to mold the characters as I saw them.

  Reggie had spent all weekend with Clint, shooting me the odd text to tell me how “freaking amazing” he was or reminding me to eat.

  I awoke Monday morning to the sun streaming through the blinds and hitting me right in the eyes. I tried on numerous “what doesn’t make me look like the slut who almost slept with an actor she barely knew then woke up in some other actor’s room” outfits. I finally settled on a pink sweater my grandmother had knitted for me two Christmases before and a pair of black leggings with boots.

  Two days of rain had made a mess of the campus and my feet sank into the muddy path as I trudged to American Lit. By the time I arrived, my thighs ached from the sheer exertion of constantly prying my boots out of the muck. I rubbed my legs as I took my seat and yawned.

  Clint flopped into the seat beside me, bags beneath his eyes and a giant smile plastered across his face. It looked like he thought Reggie was “freaking amazing,” too. I clucked my tongue at him, and we both burst into giggles.

  I hadn’t slept well since the party, my mind raging between Tanner’s heated advance—and equally hasty retreat—and Gavin’s bedroom. The fact that I’d have to face both of them in just a few hours weighed on my mind and, as the lecture started, I’d never been so grateful for my dictation app. I let it learn whatever lesson was being taught and navigated Facebook on my laptop.

  A message popped up on my screen about halfway through class.

  JIN: Ellie-Bellie! Only a few weeks till Thanksgiving! I’m flying back on the Wednesday night! Wanna come pick me up at the airport? I have a surprise for you!

  A glance at the front of the room told me Professor Creed was still absorbed in his lesson plan. I hit Reply and told Jin to name the time and I’d be there. I wondered what the surprise was all about. A million ideas floated through my mind, including the theory that maybe he was moving back. Butterflies danced in my stomach as I considered the possibility.

  When class ended, I shimmied out of the row and bolted for the do
or, but as I was about to cross the threshold someone tapped me on the shoulder.

  I turned to find Professor Creed peering down at me over his glasses. “Elise, I wanted to speak with you about your essay.”

  I cringed as I remembered the paper he’d returned to me during class. I’d tossed it in my bag without even looking at the grade. The amount of red ink seeping through the cover page was enough to tell me what I really didn’t want to know.

  “I’m sorry, Professor Creed.”

  “Duncan.”

  “Right. I’m sorry, Duncan. I’ve been busy and not sleeping well, but I promise I’ll work harder.”

  “That essay was really not up to the standard you set for yourself at the beginning of the year,” he said. “You’ve proven to me you’re a talented writer. Don’t let other activities get in the way of that. With your grades from previous papers, you can still get a decent mark in this class if you work hard and ace the final essay.”

  “I will. I promise.”

  “Good. See you next week.”

  “Sure. Thank you, Professor—er—Duncan.”

  I bolted up the stairs and found Clint propped against the wall, his nose in a book.

  I laughed when the light hit the cover. “Is that Viking Moon?”

  “Yup. Regina gave me the copy she loaned to you. Said you were takin’ too long.”

  “I thought you said it sounded stupid.”

  His cheeks turned a flattering pink. “Well, what can I say? I like Regina a whole bunch and this is her favorite thing in the world. Besides, it ain’t half bad. Still could use a duel or two, but it’s decent.”

  “Maybe there’s hope for you yet, cowboy.”

  • • •

  Veronica slammed the car door so hard, the entire vehicle vibrated around me.

  “What’s wrong with you?” I asked. “I mean, besides the usual.”

  She pulled her knees to her chest and planted her feet against the dashboard. I almost did a double take when I saw that she wore jeans. I didn’t think she even owned a pair of those. Perhaps pretending to be me had finally gotten to her.

  “Fucking Gavin Hartley.”