“Riley?” I really do want to start tomorrow afresh, and the best way for me to do that is to man up and apologise for the way she felt when we first met.
Her door opens, and I stop near the sink. Those blue eyes that make my heart stop every time I look into them makes my skin tingle when she runs her gaze over my body.
“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for saying what I said. I’m sorry that my words cheapened you. It is important that you can act, and you can. Jesus, can you act. Restless Times is just as much your show as it is mine. I’m sorry for using your questionnaire as a shield, it was the first thing I could grab.”
She crosses her arms and when she’s done that in the past, I’ve prepared myself for a verbal spray. I wait, and nothing comes.
“It would mean something if you didn’t have your fly down.” She backs away and shuts the door.
Shit. “No,” I call out, but the door is completely closed. My hands land on my zipper, and I feel the soft spike of my hair that means the top part of me was on full display.
Stripping before I turn on the shower, I duck under the spray and fight back the thoughts that she’s only a room away. Would she tell me to leave if I went into her room? Is that tiny glimmer in her eye an indicator that she could want me even a quarter of how much I want her? I turn my back to her door and see her toiletry bag on the counter. I look to the door from the corner of my eye and then slowly swing back to the purple bag full of Riley’s details. Any guilt about going through her bag disappears as the zipper inches open. For the high-maintenance girl she is, she keeps minimal personal products. A lip gloss, toothbrush, travel-sized shampoo and conditioner are all things I recognise. The long metal stick with a loop on one end and a sharp on the other looks like an interesting toothpick. I press my finger down on the pointy end before I raise it to give it a test. It’s a flossing like no other. The sharp end gets right into the deep parts while the loop part, albeit small, is an excellent tongue scraper. The tampons drop out of my hand the second my brain registers what I’m holding. Moisturiser. Cleanser. She looks her most beautiful when she’s bare-faced and her hair is loose and free.
Making sure that everything is back where it should be, I run my tongue over my teeth and make a mental note to buy one of those teeth scrapers. A quick yelp sounds from her room, and I take a quiet step towards her door. Did I just hear her call out? I press my ear against the door to hear the noises I thought I heard, but they’ve fallen silent. I can’t hear anything and I’m not game enough to try as I towel off, so I head to my own room to set up my laptop and write a few scenes.
Forgoing bedclothes, I settle into the bed, and already there’s an issue. The mattress is like a board. The tossing and turning does nothing to help me get to sleep coupled with Riley sleeping only metres away. Picking up her questionnaire, I commit each answer to memory. We actually have a lot in common, and I’m feeling better for reading her answers about me. She thinks I’m outgoing, has shown kindness to others. Her answer to how she feels when I’m in her space is understandable. I get that I’ve made her wary when I’m around. My heart stops on the last question.
Is there a history of abuse in your family? Yes.
Her simple answer right there is where I make my commitment to stop. I had no idea and I hate myself more for everything I’ve done.
It ends now.
Nine
Riley
I press my back against the door as I tell myself again that I can’t go to him. He’s been out of the shower for over ten minutes, and I assume from the lack of noise, he’s gone to his bed. His shirt unbuttoned, his hair a sexy tousled mess, his jeans open and exposing the happy trail and the pot of goodies at the end of it had me standing before him like a fool. I wasn’t asleep when he knocked on the door when he got back. I was certain he’d hear my heart beating. It feels like it’s pounding in my chest. I whispered goodnight to him, and he pulled the door shut. Hearing the water running just behind my back is pure torture. Would he freak out if I opened the door? Would he even know? Could I open it without him even realising? What was he writing on his laptop? It looked like a play from what I could see.
Deciding that sexual harassment is not on my agenda tonight, I head to bed and lie on my back. The questionnaire dredged up a lot of feelings for me. Feelings I clearly haven’t dealt with. My grandma used to say, if the door doesn’t open, it’s not your door. Problem was, and still is, I’m a stubborn thing and sometimes I kick the wrong door down just to prove that I can open it. I held back on the five things I liked about Harrison.
His hair. His generosity to others. His desire to get a great shot every time. That he pushes me to be better. And how he manages to get the VIP section every time I happen to be at Afterglow. Part of me is itching to know what he’s going to say about me, the other part doesn’t think he’ll take it seriously. Either way, I can’t be accused of not doing it.
The sound of the shower teases my soul, and my nipples ache against the cotton of my singlet. I cup both breasts and give them a gentle but firm squeeze while pushing them together. I was blessed with naturally big breasts, and even though others have suggested going up a cup, it’s never been a consideration. I splay my thighs as my mind replays the vision of following his happy trail. My mouth waters at the thought of him lowering those jeans just for me. Shamefully, I’ve been wet for him for years. I glide my fingers through my slickness and I’m not able to get the friction my clitoris is craving. The cool sea breeze feels heaven against my skin so I lift my singlet to expose my chest. I return my hand to between my legs and press down on my sensitive nub, imagining the soap suds sliding all the way to the end of his dick. I didn’t bring any of my vibrators, Jesus. The dirty perv took my underwear in the two seconds my back was turned. I can’t even think what he’d do if he found my stash.
There have been times when I’ve accidentally rubbed against him, and those moments have been stored away for times like this. But this, tonight, is Heaven and Hell wrapped into a little bundle of sadistic pleasure. Harrison would most certainly not be my friend, much less my lover. This is the only place I get to have him. In my fantasies. And tonight, he’s going to be dripping wet. Imagining the droplets of water falling from his hair and face onto my body makes my skin flush. My fingers are a poor substitute for what I think his tongue could do, and I’m already on edge. I push my fingers deep inside and bear down around them. Working them in and out, I tug gently on a nipple. If only it were his mouth. My clit bounces, and I move on from my breast and circle around it. I feel the wave coming and I can’t wait to join it. I moan before covering my mouth with my arm. I work my clit to relish the last of the orgasm. It’s only then that I realise the shower has stopped and I have no idea how loud I actually was.
Stilling my hand, I slink it away like I’ve been caught masturbating over the best cookie jar and silently tug my top back into place.
I fall asleep like I do every night, thinking of Harrison.
I don’t even have to look at the clock as I pull whatever hair is still twisted around itself free. I know it’s four. My mind is foggy from last night but alert enough to tune into the sounds around me. The ocean and the breeze. I take a few moments to enjoy the stillness. I meditate, plan out my day, say my mantras, and stretch. For a holiday house, the bed isn’t too bad. Not too hard, not too soft.
Allan left the schedule for the time we have here last night. By the current state of it, we don’t shoot a scene together until the end of the week. My first days here are spent with Clara, stylists, beauticians, and fittings. I wonder if I’m going to get a different hair colour? I’ve been this bottle blonde all this time and I’m a bit sick of it, to be honest.
I truly don’t think he hates me that much. I’ve overheard him saying kind things about me, too, a couple of times. There was one time I asked him about it, and he denied it, saying I must have misheard him.
I’m not looking forward to the solo sessions with Clara. There seems to
be one of those a day followed by a session with Harrison. Jesus, take the wheel and ride this crazy train off the cliff. Our whole relationship is messed up. I love that he gives me as good as he gets. He’s the only man who’s stood up to me. As infuriating as that is, it’s also one of the things that attracts me to him.
I slip out of bed and I try my best to be as quiet as possible as I use the bathroom. Reaching my arms over my head, I stretch while tiptoeing to the coffee machine. Yoga with a kick of coffee is my way to start the day. I carry my cup to my room and sit, letting the aromas wake me. I move through the poses several times until I feel limbered up, then I pull on my hoodie and lace up my shoes. I check the batteries in my torch and carefully open the door. I’ll be halfway through my run by the time the sky lightens.
Rounding the corner, I’m on the home stretch and the driveway is just up ahead. Since I don’t know where I’m going, I’ve stuck to the same loop so I don’t lose my bearings. I pretend the torch is a baton and I’m about to pass it over. I don’t run with all the bells and whistles. No music. No pedometre. I just run. Some of the best conversations have taken place on my runs. It helps me shake off any stress. Helps me sort the warped thoughts about Harrison and prepare for another day. The run has helped me find the words I need to start the conversation with Harrison.
I’m sorry, too, will be my starter. I really am. I’m sorry we’ve spent all this time trying our best to ruin each other. I’m sorry you’ve broken my heart in ways you can only imagine.
I continue my apologies and stick to the driveway when I spot a car parked next to mine. A woman with blonde hair shuts the back door to the car, puts a bag over her shoulder, and goes to the front door. I’m sorry you manage to find all the beautiful women in like an hour of being here and I’m sorry that I’m jealous. My mind instantly jumps to last night. He did have a woman in his room. No way could he scream like that. My run slows to a jog before I walk towards the woman who I’m fighting hard to not hate on sight.
“Hello?” My question causes her to let out a squeal and slam the car door, all while maintaining the basket she holds in her hands. Come to think of it, she looks like she’s bringing things, not leaving, and her scream sounded nothing like the scream of last night.
“Jesus. Sorry,” she says. The basket starts to topple, and one bread roll falls out. “I was hoping to not make any noise.”
“I don’t mean this to sound the way it’s going to come out, but who are you and what are you doing here?” I add a laugh to show that I’m not trying to be aggressive.
I size her up; you’d think I’d be used to the endless stream of women lining up for Harrison’s affections. He doesn’t really have a type. She’s roughly the same height as me, leaner, and she’s very attractive. He knows how to pick the beauties. That’s the commonality. They are all striking. And the green-eyed monster is unleashed. His nasty comments, his many hurtful criticisms, I can deflect a good percentage of those, but when it comes to him being with other women, the jealous streak goes on a rampage.
“I’m Tess.”
“Riley.”
“I’m your caterer. I also run the café just off the main drag. Harrison mentioned last night that you both eat whole foods.”
What, when he had you locked in the cupboard to hide from me?
I don’t remember hearing other voices, and that’s probably why he checked on me, to see if I was asleep to sneak her in. I feel sick at the thought of touching myself while he was making love to her.
“I’m really sorry, I was told you would be arriving today, that’s why I didn’t have anything ready,” she says as we both walk up to the door.
“That’s okay. I bought my own food. So you said you met Harrison last night.”
“Yeah. At the restaurant. He seemed preoccupied, and now I know why.”
I’m about to ask her why she’s preoccupied when the front door opens as I put my hand around the handle to find a bare-chested Harrison on the other side. For the man who couldn’t lift a finger for me yesterday, he’s quick off the mark to take the basket out of Tess’ hands.
“Tess. I see you met Riley. Riley, this is Tess,” he beams, and my chest aches just a little more when he gives that gorgeous smile to her.
I reach down and carry one of the bags inside for Tess, but I have no intention of sticking around to watch the foreplay of these two.
“Was nice to meet you, Tess. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”
Tess stops behind me as I set the bag on the bench. I’m completely out of my element here. Sharing my living quarters, strangers in my face first thing in the morning, and trying to maintain an already unbalanced emotional compass is testing me. There are times when the thing you resist the most is the best thing for you. Clara’s right. I am emotionally messed up. Clara’s not going to know what hit her when we have our session in a few hours.
“What would you like for breakfast? I’ll get started on it when we get back from a surf,” Tess says, glancing between me and Harrison.
Seeing her keen to do her job brings a small amount of respect. I look to Harrison but direct my words to her. “Thank you, that’s okay. I’m used to getting my own food around the set.” I’m about to say something snarky about Harrison being the one waited on hand and foot, but thankfully, something stops me. “I’m just going to grab a shower. Let you two pick up from last night.”
Giving my bedroom door a tap, I expect it’s going to shut behind me so I whip off my top. When I see that it doesn’t, I give it another push only to have it open in on me as Harrison comes in unannounced and closes the door behind him. Suddenly, the room feels a lot smaller. I’m used to him seeing me in minimal clothing, but this is my bedroom.
“I was hoping I’d get a chance first to tell you about Tess,” he starts and looks like he’s struggling to find the right words.
Aiming to keep my words as civil as possible, I say, “Who you sleep with is not my concern. Can you just not bring them back here? I have to live here, too. Couldn’t she make you breakfast at her house?”
Harrison shuts his eyes and shakes his head. “What?”
“I’m just asking for a little bit of respect. Don’t bring your women here.”
“My women?” he says while crossing his arms, and that antagonising smirk spreads across his lips. His stare holds mine as he moves towards me.
I maintain the distance until my back hits the wall and he crowds around me.
“Are you jealous?” he asks.
“What?”
“You heard me. Are you jealous? You did list it as one of your character flaws.”
Mirroring his stance with my arms across my chest, I give him a glare. Yes. “Hardly. Explains the girly screams from your room last night.”
This is the moment where things change for us. Harrison was honest with me. He doesn’t back up an inch. “Okay. I said to myself that I was going to be honest with you from now on. That girly scream was from me. I didn’t realise I had a feminine scream as I don’t scream much, but I do like to learn new things about myself. I didn’t bring any woman home and I don’t plan to.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper and even have trouble hearing it myself.
Harrison ducks lower and brings his mouth closer. All I’d have to do is step forward and I’d easily take his mouth. Do it. Do it! My heart screams at me while my head is trying to make sense of what’s happening.
“I said I’m sorry.”
That curl of the lip is my end. I’m going for it. Well, I was until he stands to his full height and moves out of the prime position.
“I heard you. I just wanted you to hear it. Now. I’m going to go for a surf with a woman who offered to correct my stance.”
Damn him. Damn you, universe. Damn you all to Hell.
“There is nothing going on with me and Tess. I have my eye on someone else.”
Great. More competition.
“Other things. Your mouth and the shit you give me that comes out o
f it.”
What?
“The way that you deliver your lines to make me want to do better.”
Oh. His list.
“The fact that you don’t take any of my shit.”
My lungs pound from the breath trying to escape as he leans in just a touch closer to whisper. His eyes pierce into mine, and the ragged breath shakily comes out.
“And the fact that you said yes to doing this with me. I can’t ever thank you enough. It gives me hope that we can move on to better things. I know we can.” He turns without saying another word. That is, until he’s almost clear of the door. “Speaking of calling out last night. Did you happen to call anything out?”
Oh fuck! My heart just stopped. He’d heard me. All I can give him is a shake of the head, and he seems satisfied with my answer because he doesn’t stay, and I take refuge under the shower spray.
By the time I’ve come out of my room again, the cabin is silent. My stomach is aching for food, and I wrap the towel around my hair. I’ve run our encounter this morning through my head so many times, I’m starting to question if it was real. There’s a piece of paper folded and propped against the coffee maker and I collect a cup full. I slow my steps because I know what it is. This questionnaire is a double-edged sword. I want to know more about him, and maybe his thoughts will help tell my heart that it’s pining after a losing situation. Flicking the button, I’m going to have to make this a strong one.
I take my imaginary chocolate muffin, which is really cut-up fruit, and my cup over to the table. I flatten the page out with one hand while I take a deep breath. He already loves making your life hell, this will just be confirmation.
Favourite colour. Hmm. Blue Same as mine.
Favourite dinner. Roast dinner. That shit! He’s copied my answers. My favourite dinner is a roast with all the trimmings and enough left over for the following days for toasted sandwiches. Juice squirts from the apple slice I crunch down on and sprays onto the page.
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