by Lux Zakari
“You know what I mean, James. Why are you acting like this?”
“I thought all that was what you wanted.”
“What I wanted?” Greer stopped and stared at him, her eyes so wide he could see the whites all around her pupils. “Why would you think that’s what I wanted?”
James opened his mouth to speak, but only an aborted squeak came out. He pressed his lips together and shrugged with a shake of his head.
She took a step closer and crossed her arms. “You really don’t know?”
He raked a hand through his hair and tried again. “It’s not that I don’t know. I just—”
“What?” Greer’s notably short patience was dwindling fast.
James wondered if he should just tell her, show her his hand. Or was it better to keep his cards close? Finally, he sighed, sick of the games and all the withholding. He wordlessly brushed past her and into the bedroom they used to share. She trailed him with determination like he knew she would. He opened the night table drawer on his side of the bed, retrieved her stories, and passed them to her.
She stared at them with skeptical eyes, her forehead creased, but he watched comprehension soon dawn on her features as she skimmed what he’d given her. Her face paled as she pressed her fingertips to her mouth. “Where did you get this?” she asked, her voice quivering in what he knew was an effort to stay calm.
“Does it matter?”
Greer didn’t answer as she read the first couple pages, a variety of emotions flickering in her eyes. A few minutes passed before she spoke again. “And so what does this mean to me?”
“You tell me.” He dove his hands in the back pocket of his jeans. “It seemed to mean quite a bit to you once, considering you wrote about twenty pages of it.”
She finally looked at him, and he was taken aback by the deeply troubled expression on her face. “You think I wrote this?”
“Oh, come on, Greer. Are you really going to lie me?”
Greer’s gaze returned to the stories, and she bit her trembling lip as her face crumpled with sadness. “Why shouldn’t I?” She sank onto the edge of the bed and hunched forward, resting her elbows on her knees as she started to cry. “I’ve been lying to you since I met you.”
He sat next to her, the mattress groaning beneath him. “What do you mean?” he asked quietly, knowing he treaded into foreign, potentially dangerous territory.
“What do you think I mean?” She lifted her head, her face flushed. “I could never be real with you, James. Not ever. I had to be unimpressed and unaffected by you and everything about you. I couldn’t allow myself to be excited and off the walls about the fact that I was with you. I had to be in control of myself. I had to be different. I always had to care less to make you care more.” She wiped her mouth then beneath her eyes with a shaking hand and sucked in a watery gulp of air. “Do you remember the day we met?”
“Of course,” he said, his voice rusty.
“Of course you remember it, but you don’t really know anything about it. My friend told me she had backstage passes to your show, and I totally lost it. I screamed and I cried and I thought I was going to hyperventilate. There I was, the freaky artsy girl of my school who’d never been on a date before, and I was going to meet the boy of my dreams. This was my big chance.
“Then my friend said I needed to get all the excitement and craziness out of my system, because I couldn’t be like that in front of you. And this made sense to me. The majority of your fans were girls like me, and you didn’t go for any of them. So I had to set myself apart. I had to be ‘normal’ and mysterious and play hard to get. I mean, what guy looks at some weird, hysterical girl and thinks, ‘She’s the one,’ right?”
Tears dripped down her cheeks. “And then we met, and it was amazing. You were better than I’d hoped you’d be, and you were real. That just made everything even more incredible for me. But I had to keep it a secret. Do you have any idea what the past decade has been like for me? I couldn’t tell you how much you meant to me, how you were everything I’d ever wanted, and all that made me hate everything we had. Every step I took and everything I said, I had to think, ‘Would the girl James wants do that?’
“It breaks my heart that the reality of us was never what I’d wanted, but truthfully, it’s not all your fault. I’ve been second-guessing myself for ten years, trying to be the ideal for you like you were for me, but I failed. Worse, I have no idea who the real me is anymore.”
She turned to him. “I loved you from the start, before I even knew you. And I could never, ever tell you that. I had to play it cool or I’d lose you. And look at me. I lost you anyway.”
Her words numbed James’ whole body. He couldn’t speak, didn’t know what to even begin to say to this woman who’d kept such intense feelings bottled inside her for so long. All along, he’d operated under the impression she couldn’t care less about him, but apparently that couldn’t have been further from the truth.
His hand found hers and gave it a squeeze. “You didn’t lose me. Not even close.”
To his mild amusement, she treated him to one of her most sarcastic looks. “Right. You expect me to believe that after all this manipulative fan fic bullshit?”
“I expect you to believe that it’s the truth.”
She rolled her eyes and released a derisive snort as she sprung from the mattress and marched for the door.
“Greer, wait.”
She didn’t. He caught up to her when she was halfway down the stairs and captured her wrist. She whipped around, looking so pissed off at him that he found it sort of sexy.
“What?” she exploded. “What do you want?”
Right then, the only answer was her. Without further hesitation, he yanked her into his arms and pressed his lips to hers. To his surprise, she kissed him back like she’d been just waiting for him to make the first move. The sadness and anguish of the past few weeks flowed from his mouth to hers and back again. Her kiss, her touch, her whimpers overwhelmed him and confirmed that they were on the exact same page.
He deepened the kiss, his need for her intensifying with every second that ticked by. It was different than it had been with the other girls; it always had been. Now it was even more so; he knew what it was like to really miss her, to really not have her, and finally here she was—the girl he’d always known but barely. In that moment, he knew he’d never slept with or sought anyone else until recently because there’d never been a reason to. He’d had what he wanted before he knew he wanted it, and he’d taken it for granted; it had all come so easy. All this time he’d felt desperate to succeed, to overcome the stigma of himself, but where was the problem? What had he ever lacked? He’d had everything. It was Greer who’d been without.
Just before his guilt threatened to ruin the moment, Greer pressed herself flush against him and he stumbled backward, trying to keep his balance on the stairs. The banister dug into his spine as he returned her kiss with equal fervor. Molten heat snaked through him. She kissed him like she has a thousand greedy mouths. She kissed him like she loved him.
Without breaking contact, he lowered himself onto the nearest stair and she followed, straddling his lap. His jeans stretched tight over his erection as she rocked against him and slid her hands under and up his shirt, leaving a path of invisible sparks in her wake. They parted briefly, breathless, for her to yank his shirt overhead and him to do the same to her. He unclipped her bra and immediately fastened his lips to her nipples, which hardened at the touch of his tongue. She grabbed fistfuls of his hair and whispered his name, and reminders of her story “Blonde” rushed back to him. When her fingernails scraped his scalp, he never had a pain he liked half as much.
He flipped them over so she lay on her back at the top of the carpeted landing, her feet on the step below. James kneeled a few stairs down and unbuttoned her fly, their smoldering eye contact remaining unbroken. He tugged her pants off her legs, taking her panties with them, and tossed the clothes to the bottom of the stairs,
rendering her completely naked. Then he buried his head between her thighs, breathing in her scent, which was both comforting and exciting at once.
Strangled, mewling cries died in her throat as she wrapped her legs around his neck, forcing him closer. He batted his tongue over her sex, teasing her wet opening with a fingertip. He’d never known Greer to be so wanton in his life. It was a sight he could get used to, if he had the chance.
He lifted his head when she sat up, and she kissed him as her hands made quick work of his pants zipper. His breath caught as she grasped his member and stroked him up and down in the familiar pattern she’d struck gold with years ago. It never failed to wring the rest of his self-control from his body, and with a groan, he grabbed her wrists, staying her. He turned her so she faced the landing, her ass in the air and her cunt exposed and glistening. Loathe to wait a second longer, he slid inside her with one swift, smooth stroke, making them both moan.
Luckily for him and Greer, they’d been blessed with children who screamed and ran around and pooped in the yard during the daylight hours, but thankfully they slept like bears throughout the night. Still, Greer managed to gasp out, “Shh, the kids.”
The words turned him on more than he thought possible, because they were their kids she referred to in such a casual, intimate way, their kids they’d created during their life together. No one else in the world could ever do that. In response, he fucked her harder, his breath quickening as he watched her fingers dig in the thick carpet and heard her moan in the direction of the floor.
As much as he loved this position, he wanted to see her face. He withdrew from her and sat, pulling her onto his lap. She felt unbelievable, her skin hot and wearing a sheen of sweat. As she sank down on him, her eyes met his and his heart paused. Her gaze was full of such wanting—such love—that his mind went white; he was completely divested of thought with just one look.
He pulled her in for a mouth-bruising kiss then dug his fingers in her hips as she rode him. Greer gripped the stair behind him for leverage and continued to shush him, even though she was the one making most of the noise. She panted and gasped in his ear, her body against his, her breasts bouncing as she neared climax using his body. What was happening between them had all the fascination of someone new, and all the comfort and trust of someone familiar. Making love to the real Greer at last was like making love to someone like it was both the first and thousandth time.
Finally, she buried her face in his hair and bit his shoulder, releasing a muffled groan as he felt her contract around him. A few upward thrusts later, he joined her in her bliss.
Greer lifted her head, her eyes smoky and her lips swollen from too much kissing. She graced his mouth with a chaste kiss, one he immediately escalated. His hands traveled the span of her bare skin, over her ass to the small of her back, and following the upward curve of her spine. He was half dizzy with desire for her. He already wanted her again.
But she drew away slowly, the lusty look in her eyes gone and replaced with sullen regret. “This is too dangerous.”
He hoped she meant the precarious balancing act they’d just mastered on the stairs or the fact their children could wake at any minute. But as she rose, their bodies parting with a soft, wet sound, and made her way down the stairs toward her clothes, he had the horrible feeling that was not the case.
“What do you mean?” he asked, not at all wanting to know.
Her jaw was tight as she gathered her clothes and padded nude in the direction of the downstairs bathroom. When she was gone, he peeled his T-shirt off, cleaned himself with it as best he could then tossed it aside as he bounded down the stairs, zipping his pants. His anxiety climbed as he roamed the length of hallway in front of the bathroom, waiting for Greer. There was no way she was going to make some fast escape without them talking about what had just happened.
The door finally opened and she stopped, serious as ever, but this was a different kind of serious than what he was used to. Her guard was down, but her eyes asked, Now what? He stopped pacing, and they both paused, watching each other, waiting. He’d never felt so helpless and confused in his life. He didn’t even know what to say, except: “Don’t go.”
She looked away and brushed past him. “For my own sake, I have to.”
He grabbed her arm and spiraled her back toward him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means we’re not right for each other, James.” She tried to wrench from his grip.
“How can you even say that?” He held her tighter. “I want to be with you, and I know you want to be with me.”
“It isn’t enough. What we want has nothing to do with what we need and what we’re actually capable of. I can’t be married to you anymore, with me in one place and you in another. I need us to be together, and I don’t think your life will ever let that happen.”
“What life?” He could hear the anguish in his voice. “My life is with you.”
“I wish I could believe that.” Greer tore herself from his grasp and made a beeline for the door.
He was faster, though, and headed in the opposite direction to cut her off just as she circled into the living room. She froze upon seeing him, and they both stood there for a moment, their bodies taut and ready to bolt as they sized each other up.
It was Greer who made the first move, spinning around and racing back the way she’d come. He, too, backtracked to head her off in the hallway, but he slipped on the hardwood floor, watching her immediately retrace her quick steps. Cursing, he straightened and returned to the living room, lunging across the coffee table to grab her wrist just as she made a move to break past him. Her ankle caught on the coffee table and she stumbled into the couch, taking him with her.
The moment she hit the carpet she was struggling to her feet again, and he grabbed her waist and tugged her back to him. They wrestled on the floor in a knot of limbs, both hissing to each other to shh for the sake of the kids but neither of them willing to give up. If James had to admit it, he almost even enjoyed this, adrenaline from the chase burning through him. He’d never wanted to kiss her so bad in his life, but she wouldn’t stop trying to pull away.
Finally, with a burst of strength, Greer ripped from his arms and made a break for the hallway and, just beyond it, the front door. He latched onto her ankle just as she passed through the doorway and sent her off-balance. She lurched forward, grabbing the nearest table to halt her fall. The glass of flowers—now dead and floating in filthy water; James hadn’t touched it since Greer left—on the table did not fare so well. It toppled onto the hardwood floor, and James turned away as it shattered. He and Greer stopped, and he met her surprised, open-mouthed expression with one of his own.
“Watch your step,” he whispered, sitting up slowly and nodding to her bare feet, surrounded by glass.
“I will,” she said softly, extracting her ankle from his grasp and resting her big toe on the floor as she looked for a new place to step. The only place within reaching distance was the welcome mat near the door. Her gaze met his, and in her eyes he saw a storm of hurt and confusion that he didn’t know how to fix.
“Greer.” He sighed her name. “Seriously. Don’t leave.”
Before Greer could reply, Amie’s frightened voice floated from the top of the steps. “Daddy? I heard a noise. Where are you?”
“Right here, pea,” he called, thrown. “Don’t come down. I’ll be right there.”
Greer tensed. “I have to go,” she whispered. “I don’t want any questions.”
She didn’t seem to want any answers either. He watched helplessly as Greer leaped over the glass to the mat, scooped up her shoes, and slipped out the door. There was nothing more he could do.
Blame James (blame_james) wrote,
@ 2012-09-03 18:03:51
But Really, We Love You, James
E.Y.: I think we need to take a moment to reflect on why we write about James Venora the way we do.
CLAUDIA: Didn’t we do that in our “Why We’re Dic
ks to James” post or whatever we called that?
E.Y.: Sort of, but let’s get really deep and psychological here and realize that we hate on everything he does because we actually adore him. I’ll get the ball rolling since I’m sure you’re too stunned by that sentence to reply yet, so let’s start with the obvious—the guy’s fine as freak. I mean, have you looked at him? Fashion disasters and pubic-like chest hair aside, he is the epitome of male beauty. His face freed the slaves. It cured AIDS. It ended the war in Iraq. It discovered fire and gravity and invented the internet.
CLAUDIA: It saved a blind Golden Retriever from a burning building and adopted eighteen babies from Malawi.
E.Y.: And the way he moans all his excessive “whoas” and “yeahs” in his songs makes my loins do cartwheels. He could sing “The Wheels on the Bus” and make it sound sexy. He’s like Barry White in the body of a skinny Aryan guy in white jeans!
CLAUDIA: Oh, Christ.
E.Y.: And even though he’s had zero game until recently, his sweet, earnest demeanor is what carries him. In the majority of interviews I’ve read or seen starring him, he’s always been polite, charming, and patient, even when the interviewer is asking him the most banal questions ever. I even think he wins over the haters by being a genuinely good person. When he’s around other musicians, he seems curious about them and like he actually wants to learn from people, even if he takes those lessons and puts his bizarre James Venora spin on it, which inevitably makes everything go all wrong. But regardless, I think other bands pick up on his real enthusiasm for music, and he winds up inspiring them. That’s awesome.
CLAUDIA: I really hope you’re not expecting me to participate in this post.
E.Y.: Oh, yes, I am. Come on, your turn. You don’t spend your time updating this blog just to make fun of James Venora. You like him, we all know it, so tell us why.
CLAUDIA: Fine, fine. I’ll admit—under extreme duress—that even when I say his humanitarian efforts sicken me, I actually sort of admire him for them, too. You have to respect someone who takes action to make a positive difference in the world.