reputation

by Dr. Rebecca Sharp

  “No. Just let me handle her, you’ve got enough going on.”

  With another mumbled ‘thank you’ and apology, she took off, on the phone a few seconds later dealing with the first fire on her plate.

  I didn’t knock because I didn’t want her to feel like she had to move or worse, wake her if she was sleeping.

  Letting myself in, I made for the bedroom.

  “Tay?” I heard her strained voice rasp from the room that was shuttered in darkness.

  I stood for a moment, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the darkness as I closed the door behind me.

  “It’s me, Blake,” I said quietly.

  “Zach?” I heard the rustling of the covers before the nightstand lamp flicked on which was immediately followed by Blake doubling over in the bed, trying to hide from the light. Judging from her cry, it sounded like a hundred knives just stabbed her in the head.

  “Christ, Blay.” Three steps had me by the side of the bed and flicking off the torture device.

  Even in the dark, I could see the way she clutched her head, slowly rocking herself. Ripping open the bottle, I dumped four pills into my hand, unscrewed the water bottle with the other, and nudged her shoulder.

  “Take these.”

  She didn’t question. She reached for my hands and I gritted my teeth as her touch set my body on fire, knowing where those fingers had been touching last night at my command. I wondered which one had gone in her mouth.

  “Thank you,” she groaned and sank back down into the bed.

  I hated seeing her suffer. And when I had to be the cause, I hated it even more.

  And, striving to be the best fucking tortured moron I could be, I walked around to the other side of the bed and slid in next to her.

  “What…” she rasped, breaking off as I pulled her soft, warm body against mine. “What are you doing?” Her breath moved unsteadily, just like my heart. “Are you here to yell at me?”

  “Yell at you? For what?” I demanded gruffly, continuing before she had a chance to respond. “I’m not here to yell at you, especially not when you are like this.”

  “What happened last night?”

  “Blake…” I trailed off. This was the last thing I wanted to talk about so close to her—and the last thing her head needed.

  “Tell me why, Zach,” she begged.

  My walls, my resistance were being worn down. No. Not worn. Ripped down with violent, determined strokes. I clung to what was left, willing it to be enough. “How long will it take you to learn not to ask questions you don’t want the answers to?” I replied gruffly, adding, “Alcohol. That’s why.”

  Alcohol was a good excuse for many things; it was also the wrong one.

  “How long will you lie to me?” Her voice was even softer than before. Barely a thread. But it was made out of steel, hard and glinting with the truth.

  It was a good thing her eyes were shut and she couldn’t see my face. I had enough left in me to create words that were untrue; I didn’t have enough left to fake a callous expression to match.

  “For as long as it takes for you to believe it.” Her body tensed against me. Ever fearless, I sensed as she prepared to fight.

  “I’m not here to yell. For once could you—” I broke off, realizing I was about to repeat words that I’d said last night. “Just relax, Blake.” This morning wasn’t about fighting; it would only make her feel worse and I didn’t think either of us could stand that.

  Her head insisting that she was in too much pain to argue, she slumped against my chest and I heard her breathing begin to steady.

  “Where does it hurt?”

  “Head. Everywhere.” She shivered and my arm that was around her tightened. Along with the extremity in my pants.

  Bed. Blake. Fuck. There were so many things I’d envisioned around those two words, especially recently. It took me a minute before I could move—or respond—before I made another mistake.

  That’s how bad it was; she was hungover to the point of migraines and all I wanted to do was strip her down and fuck her until her body felt like it was going to explode for a whole different reason.

  But I also wanted to hold her and care for her and take her pain away. Jekyll and Hyde had nothing on me right now.

  Gently, my fingers trailed up the velvet skin of her arm before moving to the back of her neck. My other hand rose to the top of her head and, at the same time, I began to rub slow circles in both spots, ignoring, with every stroke, the way her body fit perfectly against mine. The perfect harmony.

  “Zach…” she groaned my name and I couldn’t stop my hips from shifting underneath her; my name from her lips sounding dangerously close to how it had last night. “That feels… so good…”

  “Shh,” I said softly, for my sake just as much as hers. “Just let me do this.”

  Whether she actually listened to me for once or just fell asleep, her breaths turned shallow and her soft curves pressed deeper against me.

  I continued to rub her head and neck. I should really get up and leave. I wouldn’t though. She felt too good—too right. This was one moment where I didn’t have to fight against how I felt—how right this felt. Where I didn’t have to single-handedly hold up all the walls between us.

  This was my goddamn problem.

  She thought she’d had me with this stupid arrangement. She thought if the fame wasn’t enough, it would be the guilt eating away at me for turning down someone in need who I’d been close to.

  Bullshit.

  All of it.

  I said ‘yes’ for this moment. I said ‘yes’ for all these moments—all these mistakes—that put me here with her. Because, for a reason I was unwilling to admit to, she was one mistake that I would never learn from. And when it was over—when she was gone—I’d still tell myself that the high was worth the pain.

  I tensed when I heard a knock on the door. I had no idea how long we’d been lying there, but apparently our time was up. I assumed it was Taylor, finally finished with her million-and-one to-dos. I wanted to hate her for pulling me from Blake. I wanted to hold her forever; but I should probably be thanking Taylor instead.

  Gently shifting her to the bed, I slipped out of it and quietly left the room. Like a starving man forced to walk away from a feast, I took one last regret-laden look at her dark, curled up mass.

  I pulled open the door, but it wasn’t Taylor waiting on the other side.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  Ash.

  Best friend or not, his casual expression had flipped to explosive anger in the space of a second. He’d kill me—or at least try—if he could read my thoughts. It was a good thing that no matter how long a friendship has gone on, it still didn’t guarantee mind-reading capabilities.

  “Bringing meds and water to your sister.”

  He was still tense, like the barest thread was holding him back from letting go. “Why?”

  I did my best to meet his stone-cold stare. “I ran into Taylor who was about to have a meltdown in the lobby with all the shit she has to do and she told me Blake didn’t make it out unscathed from last night. So, I offered to grab some Advil and bring it up to her.”

  Not untrue.

  He gave me one last hard look like it could break through to what I wasn’t saying before he pushed past me into the room.

  “Where is she?”

  “Sleeping.” I nodded to the bedroom.

  “Did you go in there?” he demanded.

  “Of course, I did. I brought the shit in and made sure that she took some so that her head didn’t explode.”

  He still stared. Maybe he could know what I was thinking. Maybe he did know that the promise that I’d made to not touch her was shaping up to be the only one I’d ever break. Right after it broke me.

  His shoulders dropped with a loud sigh. “Shit. Sorry.” And just as quickly as the anger came, it was gone. “I know. I know you wouldn’t… that you’re not… It’s just so fucking hard to see you two plastered
all over the goddamn internet and not think that something is really going on.”

  I didn’t say anything because I couldn’t. I couldn’t add another lie.

  “Sometimes, I just want to wring the necks of those shitheads that work for the tabloids.” He let out a grating laugh. “Sorry, man. Ronnie asked me to check something on our Instagram and I log in to a feed of photos from you two dancing last night. And then you opened the door… Just fucked with my head there for a minute. Thought you’d been here all night.”

  I choked and made a weak attempt to turn it into a laugh. Fuck.

  Clearing my throat, I responded lamely, “Yeah. Well, Taylor saw a bunch of people taking photos of Baby Blake and Ronnie talking. She probably doesn’t even remember, but—”

  “Yeah,” he cut me off with a nod. “I know. It would have been bad. I already got an earful from her this morning.”

  I believed it. Taylor was in rare form today. Then again, she always seemed to be in rare form around Ash. I pulled my hat off and ran a hand through my hair. Guilt was squeezing my chest and if I stayed any longer I was sure Ash would start to hear my ribs crack.

  “Alright. I’m gonna go finish packing.”

  “Yeah, I should too. I just wanted to check on her.” He stepped toward the bedroom door before turning back to me and adding with a voice that, after almost twenty-five years, I knew was still laced with a threat, “Sorry about earlier. I know you’d never actually touch her if it wasn’t for this.”

  My head jerked towards the door and I hoped it looked like a fucking nod because it was all I had.

  Once in the elevator, my fist slammed into the wall. Fucking fuck.

  What the hell was I doing? What the hell had I done?

  I closed my eyes because her face stared at me on the poster that was plastered on the inside of the doors. It didn’t make a difference. She was plastered in my mind, too. Ubiquitous. Doubts trickled through my blood. Was resisting her worth it? Her smile. Her song. The way she moaned my name as she came.

  At this point, was resisting her even possible?

  I was starting to see the hard truth that it wasn’t and I had no idea what the fuck I was going to do.

  And certain parts of me had far too many suggestions.

  Track 10: Even Keel

  “I try to stay steady,

  I try to stay stable.

  But you crush me like a hurricane.”

  I AGED TWO YEARS IN those few days since western Pennsylvania when my heart had been patched together all wonky. Like an engine that kept turning over, Zach managed to keep me both at arm’s length yet right on the brink of letting whatever was between us roar to life.

  There was still uneasiness between us, but the way he held me that morning brought us to an unsteady truce—one that would be easily toppled by any further mention of what happened after we left the Rep Room.

  I grabbed a shower right after we checked into our hotel and collapsed onto the bed, towel still wrapped around my hair, and half-asleep even though it was only eight o’clock.

  “You better still be awake,” Tay admonished, grabbing her toiletry bag and disappeared back into the bathroom. “I have to talk to you about this weekend. About Zach.”

  Ugh. No. The last thing I needed was more incentive to have him show up in my dreams.

  “Not now,” I mumbled against the pillow that I’d already started to drool on. “I’m sleeping.”

  “Well, then consider this me talking to you in your dreams,” she retorted.

  “I believe that’s called a nightmare,” I shot back, smiling as I heard her chuckle.

  Too early for bed. Prying my eyes back open, I pushed myself up as Tay walked back into the room with her business face on and the news of what my ‘day off’ had turned into.

  “You know this has to move forward at some point and tomorrow is the perfect opportunity.” Her arms folded over her chest like the stern schoolmistress that she was.

  I groaned.

  “Don’t give me that. Things seem to be better after last weekend, right?”

  We were in the Big Apple for an extra day before the two scheduled shows—an extra day that happened to be the day before Valentine’s Day. And apparently, it went without question (at least in Bruce’s mind) that it would be a necessary opportunity for Zach and me to be seen out and around the city doing couple-like activities.

  “The whole day?” I clarified, trying to swallow my apprehensive gasp. I had to stifle my desire to push… my desire for him… for a whole day? She better be packing extra underwear in my purse for that.

  This Valentine’s Day was just one giant reminder of all my failed relationships. Spending a whole day with Zach, taunted by how much I wanted him, was bad enough. The fact that it was on Valentine’s Day weekend was like rubbing salt in the open would of my heart. Sharp. Painful. I wish I could at least say that it would cleanse it and help it heal, but I knew it wouldn’t.

  “Blay…” she drawled, giving me the ‘you-need-to-do-this’ eye. “All in public. All for the cameras. And you’ll be all bundled up in the cold—not in some skimpy bikini taking ‘Sex on the Beach’ way too literally.”

  “Jerk!” I tossed a pillow at my best friend as she disappeared into the bathroom of our suite bowling over with laughter.

  At least I was laughing about it now.

  I fell back onto the bed. I just wanted to sleep in all day, curled up with my Kindle, and live in a different world—because the two that I was straddling were promising to drive me crazy. But no, it looked like I was waking up to go on a full-on date day with Mr. Heartbreaker himself.

  “And he knows about this?” I yelled to her. “That he has to spend Valentine’s Day with me? The mother of all relationship-affirming days? Can’t we just snap a few staged photos and post them on Instagram?”

  Christmas would come quicker than Tay finishing her nighttime facial regimen and I wasn’t going to wait for either to come around before finding out.

  “Bruce talked to him before he called me. And then I called him to make sure everyone was on the same page. So, yes, he knows and no, we cannot just take photos and pretend like something happened.”

  Dang. Worth a shot.

  “How’d you know I would agree?” I asked, curling into my pillow. “Maybe I already have a date…”

  “Nice try, B, but James Patterson is busy tomorrow. I checked. And you’ve already agreed to this so you don’t have a choice.” Alright, valid point. “Plus, you can’t lie to me. I know the part of you that wants to fall for Zach all over again is going crazy for the next step in this charade.”

  “I thought I was supposed to keep her contained?” I asked, opening Instagram and scrolling through the fan photos from Pittsburgh, trying to like and comment on as many as I could before I got too tired.

  God, it seemed like every picture was of Zach and me dancing at the Rep Room—like a concert hadn’t even happened.

  “Not in front of the cameras,” she returned sweetly. “In front of the cameras, you can listen to the little Bad Blake on your shoulder.”

  She wasn’t on my shoulder though; she was in my head, reminding me of Zach’s mouth on mine, the desperate and raw need in his voice when he told me to taste myself, when he confessed to wanting to be inside me when I screamed his name. And she insisted that no matter what words were said, actions make liars out of us all.

  “Plus, Zach told me that he was going to take care of the whole day and that he didn’t want me to schedule anything. He wouldn’t even tell me what his ideas were… which has obviously been really intriguing to me.” I bet it was. “I mean, it’s New York City and all so there is a ton to do, but he seemed like a man with a plan. So, you have to agree for no other reason than I want to know just what he comes up with…”

  “Why do I feel like I’m the guinea pig here and you’re just itching to see what this whole reputation experiment does to me?”

  “Oh, please. Prom King. Football quarterback.�
� She was ticking off all his qualifications on her fingers as she spoke. “Hottest sweetheart within a fifty-mile radius of Franklin, Tennessee. And—according to a verified source—the best kisser in the world.” My eyes narrowed as she threw my confession back at me. “I’d have to say that you’re the lucky one, so you’ll have to excuse me if I don’t RSVP to this pity party of yours.”

  I burst out laughing, tossing another pillow at her which she just barely avoided with a shriek.

  She wasn’t wrong, I thought.

  Still.

  A Valentine’s Day planned by and spent with Zach…

  Welcome to New York.

  “Coffee?”

  Maybe it was the fact that I was pretty tired and needed coffee, but Zach’s southern drawl seemed even thicker than usual. That combined with the way he was leaning his shoulder against the wall in the lobby waiting for me to come down, arms crossed, parka unzipped, henley tucked front and center into his jeans—it all turned my body to mush. Not a good sign.

  He was flawless. All the time.

  Really explained why I struggled to stop myself from falling.

  Five minutes into the date day and I was already wondering what possible private places there were where I could try to dry-hump him out of my system. Again.

  I fully admit that it was a pathetic goal but Bad Blake liked to set low, relatively achievable standards for herself.

  “You could have slept in for longer, Blay,” he said with a warm half-smile that was oddly reminiscent of easier times—times when I loved him and he pretended he didn’t know.

  I shook my head slightly. “Just need some coffee.” No matter what Tay said about my makeup this morning, the only thing that would have me glowing was freshly-brewed caffeine running through my veins. “So, where are we headed?” I asked, pulling my hat on over hair that I’d attempted to curl. I gave them until about eleven-forty-five until the curls were completely gone.

  She’d been the one to hand me the hat and gloves, instructing me that I needed to dress warmly today—and insisting just as strongly that she really had no idea what Zach had planned. The wool-knit hat had been a birthday gift from Ash last year after he’d come back from Iceland. Complete with the little ball on the top and tassel ties and a set of matching gloves, all my winter T’s were crossed and I’s were dotted.