My Not So Super Sweet Life

by Rachel Harris

  The air around us is electric. Humming, vibrating, and heated, weighted with lust, desire, and even love. Yep, love. I’m falling for this boy, and that scares the crap out of me. But I can’t give him up. I don’t want to give him up.

  When Lucas kisses me, nothing else matters. Time doesn’t exist, our pasts don’t matter, and my heart is unscathed. With every delicious nibble and each tender touch, he mends another broken shard, making me believe that one day I really can be normal. I trap his bottom lip between my teeth, and he groans, sinking his weight against me. Wrapping my arms around his back, I grip his shoulders so tight our bodies meld together. I never want him to stop.

  Minutes…hours…days later, who knows, the sound of the real world breaks through the glorious haze. My cell phone is ringing. “Titanium” by David Guetta is my ringtone and current jam—fitting, since the lyrics pretty much describe my relationship with the paparazzi—but I so don’t want to hear it right now. Hearing it means the end of Lucas’s delicious kisses.

  He raises his head, hair mussed and lips swollen, and I really, really want to ignore it.

  But I promised.

  I gave Jack my word that I’d answer any calls and be ready to leave at the first hint of trouble. So even though I’d much rather continue our toe-tingling, drama-forgetting kisses that were just bordering on the good stuff…

  “I have to get it,” I say even as I tug Lucas back down for another one.

  He chuckles low in his throat, balancing on his arms just enough to keep me from deepening it. I grumble when he evades me again, and he laughs aloud. God, he’s got such a great laugh.

  “Believe me,” he says, his voice all kinds of husky and gravelly. Sexy. The notes of his Italian accent grow stronger when we’re like this, sending a new batch of tingles skating down my body. “I could kiss you forever. But that security dude could rip my head off, so I’m thinking you should get it.”

  The firm muscles of his back bunch and flex beneath my hands as he reaches to grab my purse. He slides my phone from the side pocket and hands it over without glancing at the screen and then ducks to press an openmouthed kiss at the base of my throat.

  “Make sure it’s not important,” he says, “and then we’ll see what we can do about pushing that rating.”

  Oh, the boy is good; I’ll give him that. “Well played, sir,” I say, lifting my arm over my face. If it’s anyone other than Jack, Jenna, Less, or Dad, I’m tossing this thing and tackling the smooth talker straddled above me.

  With a lighthearted grin (an amazing feat that only Lucas could’ve accomplished today), I eye the screen…and immediately feel the smile drop from my face. The fine hairs on my arms lift, and the cool ocean air gliding over my skin feels arctic.

  Sensing my shock, or perhaps feeling my entire body lock beneath him, Lucas leans back on his heels.

  “Who is it?” His voice is still gravelly but now it has a distinct protective edge. I have a feeling that protective edge is about to explode.

  Swallowing hard, I say, “Reality.”

  …

  “How did she get your number?”

  I grit my teeth, biting back a response to the way he emphasizes she. Obviously, Lucas is worried about me. He knows my past and is probably just as shocked as I am by my mother calling. At least, I think that’s what I am. Shocked. Numb works, too.

  “I don’t know,” I admit, sitting up and staring at my now-silent phone. I can’t look away, my finger hovering over the home button as if the name will disappear if I look away or the screen goes black. “Guess Dad must’ve given it to her.”

  But that doesn’t seem right, because if he did, surely he would’ve called and warned me. Tried to soften the blow before the author of every abandonment issue I have rocked my world. Again. The only other option, though, is that he gave it to her years ago…back when I got hers.

  I still don’t even know why I wanted it. Why I took it and programmed it in. I sure as heck never planned to use it. What would I have said? “Hi, Mom, remember me? The fruit of your loins? The daughter you’ve ignored for eleven years? Feel like grabbing a movie some time?”

  Not a snowball’s chance in Hades.

  But I did take it. And programming it into my phone was like a morbidly reassuring link. Proof that if I absolutely needed to reach her—like if the world were ending or some other equally ungodly reason presented itself—I could.

  Reassured was the exact opposite of how I felt, though, seeing her name flash on my screen. More like totally overwhelmed. Terror, confusion, anger, and hope all surged my body in a rush, scrambling my brain waves and knocking me utterly senseless.

  I knew she planned to come. I should’ve expected her to reach out. But I don’t think I possibly could’ve prepared for the reality of her actually doing it. A large part of me thought it was just another broken promise and scam.

  As I continue to blink dumbly at the phone, “Titanium” begins again.

  “Ignore it.” Lucas closes his hand around mine, and I look away from She-Devil mobile. The same firm mouth that teased and kissed me into a giddy stupor a few moments ago is now set in a hard line. His blazing eyes are just as fierce. “Don’t let that woman ruin anything else. This is our time. She can damn well wait.”

  A shiver racks my spine. I’m used to chill bumps when Lucas’s accent gets deep like this. It means his emotions are running hot, and there’s nothing more delicious than that voice whispering in my ear just before he licks it. But for the first time, my tremble is not from desire, but heartache.

  “You don’t get it.” I can’t keep the hurt and confusion out of my voice. Somehow, out of everything that’s happened, Lucas not knowing why I need this surprises me the most. And considering the train wreck my life has become, that’s saying something.

  Jenna doesn’t understand because she’s all kindness and rainbows. She’d never treat someone the way my mom has. Dad’s need to get all grouchy and Papa Bear makes total sense, too. It was always the two of us against the world, and dating Jenna hasn’t lessened his Superman complex one iota. And as for Alessandra, well, her sweet, quiet fretting is par for the course. If the world worked according to her plan, everyone would get along, life would be one big hug-fest, and every child would grow up with the kind of parents she had. I know she’ll support any decision I make, but she’s totally going to worry herself into an ulcer while doing it.

  But I thought if anyone were going to understand this, understand me, it would be Lucas.

  “This isn’t about her,” I say, shaking my head as the phone continues to ring. “It has never been about her.”

  “What then?” His jaw ticks as he rakes his hand through his curls. “Why would you even think about hearing her out?”

  The music stops, the call switching to voice mail. I let out a sigh, suddenly feeling exhausted. “Answers.”

  Looking away, I stare at the breaking surf. The whir of the roiling water and the crash of the swells match the turmoil that is my head.

  “It’s about finding out why she left us,” I tell him. “Luc, that’s all I’ve wanted to know since I was five years old. All I’ve cared about. And I think”—my dumb voice breaks, and I clear my throat to try again—“I think I deserve to find out.”

  Lucas doesn’t respond. After taking a few deep breaths, I turn back, and his sympathetic gaze makes my chest ache. Tucking a strand of flyaway hair behind my ear, he palms my cheek and says, “Baby, you do deserve that. Hell, you deserve a mom who wouldn’t have left you in the first place. But that’s just it; we’re not talking about another mom. We’re talking about yours. And the thought of letting her hurt you again…” His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “It makes me want to bust something.”

  I love him for caring so deeply, but right now, there is another reason why I have to do this. If I want a real, all-in relationship with Lucas, the kind that Dad and Jenna have, heck, even the kind Alessandra and Austin have, then I need to be whole. My mom didn’t j
ust leave us when she took off years ago—she stole my self-worth and decimated any shot I had at true happiness. Until I hear why, my heart is never going to be fully open.

  “The only way she can hurt me is if I let her.” Climbing onto his lap, I wrap my arms around his neck and press a kiss to his lips. Seeing his worry does something to me. It feeds my soul and tells me I’m not alone. “But if I let this chance slip by, I’m always gonna wonder.”

  My phone beeps, indicating I have a message. Stupid, silly hope bubbles in my chest. I look up to see Lucas shake his head before resting it against mine. “Then I’m in. I hate it, but if this is something you have to do, then I’ll be right there with you.”

  Relief floods my entire body. Finally, someone on my side. “That’s all I need,” I tell him, already hitting the play back button to hear my mother’s message. I press a kiss against his lips and bring the phone to my ear. I know he’s worried, but soon he’ll see that I know what I’m doing. I’m in the driver’s seat, not her, and everything is going to be totally fine.

  Scratch that, it’ll be better than fine, because in the end I’m going to find my normal.

  Not on My Watch

  ∙Lucas∙

  There’s hope in Cat’s eyes, and it kills me. The cameras swarming around us at LAX’s baggage claim don’t catch it, thanks to her dark sunglasses, but it’s there. It entered while we were at the beach last night, and I saw it again when I picked her up this morning. The rest of her is calm and collected, the mask she puts on whenever she goes out in public. But the sparkle in her eyes, her slight squirms, and the gentle biting of her lip give her away. She’s trying to hide her optimism from the stalkerazzi, but she’s also hiding it from me. I hate that even more than the hope.

  She thinks I don’t get what she’s going through. Why she needs to do this. But I do. She wants answers, closure. The same thing I want from Dad and wish I could have gotten with David. But what she doesn’t get is that we’re not dealing with a rational person. Caterina Angeli is a proven selfish manipulator who puts herself before her family. Anyone who’s passed a supermarket tabloid or paid a second of attention to celebrity gossip knows that. For whatever reason, it doesn’t seem to stick. People love her anyway and flock to her movies. But it doesn’t change the fact that, from what I can tell, the woman gets off on treating others like trash, using and then tossing them aside, all to feed the crazy hype.

  The hype that fuels the sick, twisted publicity train encircling us right now.

  “Caterina, Lucas, over here.”

  Yeah, they’ve figured out who I am since yesterday.

  “How long you two been dating?”

  A wall of photographers and cameramen surrounds us. Most followed us here from her house, but even more were waiting when we arrived. Almost as if they were tipped off. I clench my jaw and stare ahead, continuing to ignore the nonstop questions. It doesn’t even faze them.

  “Lemme guess…wannabe actor, right? Get in with the daughter so the folks help you out?” I hear the taunt in the man’s voice, the desire for me to rise to the bait. I won’t…even though he’s feeding on the same fears Cat believes to be true. These guys are good.

  “Bet it doesn’t hurt that she looks like her mom,” another one says with a laugh. “Wonder if she acts like her, too?”

  That’s when I lose it. My head jerks to the side, the words, “Fuck you,” spitting out before I can stop myself. Unlike Cat, I’m not wearing sunglasses. I didn’t bother with a hat. Nothing hides the anger flashing in my eyes as the camera snaps another shot. The dude in front of me smirks as I realize they won.

  “Don’t let them get to you,” Cat whispers, her lips barely moving. “That’s all they want.”

  She takes my hand and squeezes it. Her understanding makes it worse. Instead of protecting her, my sole purpose for being here today, I served up tomorrow’s headline on a silver platter. I knew they were goading me, wanting me to react, and I fell for it. But damn if I could help it.

  Life changes in an instant. Yesterday, I had Cat, I had my art, and soccer was soon to be a memory. Sure, my family life was screwed, but isn’t everyone’s? The important things were coasting along right on track. That is, until her mom pulled that stunt on TV. Then for an encore, she ruined our night at the beach.

  Her voice mail said she was flying in today. Apparently, it was imperative that they meet as soon as possible. She rattled off information with barely a hello, totally expecting Cat to drop everything to pick her up. And here we are. Never mind that today is a Friday, a school day, and that being here meant skipping. Guess things like that don’t warrant a blip on Caterina Angeli’s radar. It’s just further proof that the woman is all about herself…and freaking clueless.

  Trying my best to ignore the douche bag inching closer, I squeeze Cat’s hand back and say, “I still can’t believe your dad went for this.” When Cat asked for us to come alone, he agreed as long as we brought an army of security—but even that is lax for him. “Your old man doles out curfews, freaks when your grades slip, and lives for parent-teacher conferences, but lets you ditch school to meet your deranged mother in public.” I shake my head and say, “Was he high when you asked?”

  Cat gives me a look that I can’t read from behind her dark sunglasses, but I’m pretty sure she’s rolling her eyes. Her lips definitely twitch. “No, he wasn’t high.” The word dork is all but implied. “Actually, Jenna convinced him.”

  “Really?” That shocks the hell out of me. I saw the look on her future stepmother’s face when we left her house a little while ago. She’s as worried about Cat as I am. “She thinks this is a good idea?”

  Adjusting the purse on her right shoulder, Cat raises to her toes to spy over the crowd. “No, but she said I wasn’t a kid anymore. That if this is what I ‘think’ I need, and it is, she told Dad they should support me.” Humor enters her voice as she adds, “She also let it slip that he ditched for Led Zeppelin when he was my age.”

  Despite the media circus around us, and the knot of anxiety in my gut, I laugh.

  She looks back with a grin, and just like that, my Cat is back. One hundred percent with me. Air enters my lungs for what feels like the first time today, knowing she’s still in there under the façade. Ever since her mom interrupted our beach getaway, Cat’s been distracted. Partially with me, but also partially in her head. Thinking about her mom, wondering what this meeting will be like. Planning what she wants to say. Hoping. Some of this she’s told me, the rest I just know. Like I know her.

  She sinks back to her feet as she smiles at the ground. “Thanks for coming with me today.”

  “Hey.” Tugging her closer, I wrap a protective arm around her shoulders and lift her chin with my knuckle so I can look into her eyes. “You couldn’t have kept me away if you tried.”

  Her soft hand encircles my wrist, and she slowly exhales.

  My dad doesn’t know I’m here, but I can fill a book with the things he doesn’t know about me. Mom knows, and she called the school…but if she hadn’t, I’d still be here. This is where I belong. As crazy as it sounds, this girl is my home. Where she goes, I follow.

  Unfortunately, our stolen moment doesn’t last. A sudden buzz of clicks and screams in the distance sets off a fury of commotion around us. At the first scream of “Caterina,” Cat’s breathing hitches in her throat.

  “Where you think you’re going?” I ask when she tries to pull away. I tighten my grip on her shoulder, half-teasing, half-serious. My eyes scout the nearest exits as I push my hearing out, listening for how close her mother could be. Cat doesn’t try to wrangle free, but the guarded, fake version of her returns—manufactured smile, shoulders rolled back. Calm, collected, and emotionless once more.

  “Show time,” she whispers.

  Two seconds later, the madness reaches a crescendo. I live with a girl, so I’ve seen TMZ. I’ve watched paparazzi chase down celebrities at this very airport, so I know how it usually plays out. Most people ignore the
m. They wear huge sunglasses like Cat and don baggy clothes. Some wear baseball caps, others hold things over their faces. They never answer questions. They don’t speak or encourage the camera-toting asshats in any way.

  That’s most people.

  Again, Caterina Angeli breaks the mold.

  A tight pack of photographers engulfs her, moving with her as she approaches. Even from here, I can tell she’s reveling in the chaos. The limelight pours over her, and she soaks it in, smiling and talking nonstop. She stops to sign a few autographs, flirts with the crowd, and I swear to God, rims her lips with her tongue. Cat’s posture goes rigid as she waits for her mom to see her. Acknowledge her presence. Do something.

  “Okay, boys, that’s enough for now,” Caterina tells the photographers with a sly grin. “My baby’s waiting for me.”

  One of them asks, “Is that what you’re calling Milo these days?” and she throws her head back in a laugh.

  “Oh, honey, Milo’s just a friend, you know that.” Giving the man and his expensive camera an exaggerated wink, she clarifies. “No, my baby is my daughter. Caterina’s here to pick up her mama. Isn’t that sweet?”

  Cat flinches in reflex at the use of her full name, and bile rises in my throat. I briefly fantasize about throttling the woman. Of course, I wouldn’t—I’m not a violent person, and I definitely don’t believe in putting my hands on females. But it’s a nice vision all the same. The image of the vixen of Hollywood flailing for the cameras gets me through watching her. She carves a hole through the men and looks around until she finally notices Cat, and when she does, and a smile even faker than the one her daughter is wearing appears, I rewind the fantasy and spin it again.

  “Darling, there you are!”

  Cat’s mask cracks, and for a second, I think she’s gonna bolt. But she yanks it back on just in time for the cameras to capture their reunion. Without sparing a glance in my direction, Caterina throws her arms out and rips her daughter away, air kissing and patting her back in an elaborate stage hug. “Oh, aren’t you breathtaking?”