by Eliza Park
“Well, I’d buy a new one, but I don’t want to look like my mother.”
He laughed, pulling the pin from his mouth. “No girl, don’t change a thing. I just wasn’t expecting you to have curves.” Silver earrings tingled as he bent forward to fold and pin more fabric at my waist.
The fabric he was using was a stark white, but silky and soft against my skin. “Are you making a wedding dress?”
He shook his head, “No, just a dress I’ve been dreaming about my whole life.”
“Why don’t you make it for yourself?”
Gage gave me a look from where he was bent over staring at my waist, “I will, but you try finding a size fourteen and a half heel.”
“Probably a custom order type of thing, huh?”
He scoffed, “Yeah, way out of my budget.”
I paused, “If you have time to make me a dress like this one by December, I’ll buy you any pair you want. I’m sure my mom knows a designer.”
Gage straightened with another look. “You serious?”
“If you have time.”
Incredulous, he laughed, “You can have this one.”
“The one you’ve been dreaming about your whole life?” He’d shown me the sketches and I knew it was going to be beautiful, elegant, unique.
“Well, I’ll let you borrow it. But I’d give you my left hand for a pair of heels that fit. If my professor likes this one, though, I’ll be featured in the student run fashion show at the end of the year,” he hesitated, smiling, “I’ll need a model.”
My eyes widened, “I don’t do well with crowds.”
Gage sighed, “I pick the hottest girl in school, who happens to have a surprising amount of curves, and she doesn’t want to be a supermodel.”
“I don’t like the spotlight.”
“Girl,” he said, turning away from me to grab another cushion of pins, “Everybody likes the spotlight.”
“Not me,” I mumbled. “You should model it yourself.”
He folded his arms over his chest, watching me curiously, “Maybe I will.”
“Are you going to keep it this white color?”
Gage shook his head, “No, it’ll be a dark, ruby red.” He walked over to the table and sifted through some fabrics, pulling out a silky scarlet colored one and handing it to me.
I ran my fingers over the silk, marveling at the feeling of it against my skin. “Wow,” I breathed. It was a dark, rich, color, reminding me of a rose that hadn’t yet bloomed enough to be faded from the sun, or the skin of a fresh cherry.
“Mmhmm.”
“I should probably find something to wear underneath,” I said quietly.
“Girl, this dress and your body together will be magic, you won’t want to wear anything underneath.”
I raised an eyebrow. Maverick would like that. I bit my lip, wondering if the night of this winter dance would finally be the night. I was supposed to see him this weekend for another date, and although we had a lot of fun, I felt like a wedge was driving between us without the physical intimacy. I’d seen him last weekend and he’d asked me again about going to a game. This weekend would be his fourth game of the season, he was nearly halfway done, and I was running out of excuses.
“So, you got a boyfriend who goes to Yale or what?”
I smiled, “Yeah.”
“How long have you been together?”
“Um…well, recently not long, but—well I just got back from Ireland and before that I was in rehab—.”
Gage’s mouth fell open, one of his eyebrows rising straight to the ceiling.
“Before that I was in an abusive relationship, but before that I dated Maverick for maybe…three years or so? Although, I didn’t realize I was dating him because of the…prescription drugs.” My voice faded.
“An abusive relationship huh?”
I nodded, “Yeah, worst time of my life.”
“Yeah, I know how you mean.” He went to sit down at his sewing machine, folding open a small notebook and picking up a pencil to jot something down.
“How long were you trapped for?”
His voice lowered, “A couple of years.”
I grimaced, “I’m so sorry.”
Gage gave me a weak smile, “Me too. We’re in a club that no one wants to be in.”
I returned his smile. We spent the next couple of hours trying to pull the dress off of me without moving any of the pins, resulting in a few hilarious positions that had us both rolling with laughter. I helped him guide the long pieces of fabric through the machine, listening to him talk about his boyfriend and family and sharing anecdotes about my own. I never told anyone who my father was anymore, refusing to admit to being tied to the Hanson name unless absolutely necessary. I could change it, I knew, but to what? Bohanan? It didn’t feel quite right to own a name that had been destroyed by the reputation of my father.
Gage was easy to talk to. He had an openness about him that invited you in and a few devastatingly judgmental looks that could destroy even the most confident of supermodels. His opinions regarding the fashion world fascinated me and I peppered him with questions way past my normal bedtime. By the time I left, I knew I’d made a friend worth keeping and vowed to introduce him to Janey as soon as possible.
I had an Uber waiting before I left the building, racing across the sidewalk to slide into the backseat as quickly as I could. I didn’t take any chances at night, and I took the extra precautions of updating Janey to my whereabouts any time I left the apartment. I was lucky she happened to be just as paranoid, and although the self-defense classes we’d taken from her brothers in Idaho and the professional ones in Dublin were helpful, our motto was that you could never be too cautious.
Making and keeping friends was a new step for me since rehab. I didn’t think cousins counted when it came to establishing solid friendships. Janey was obligated to be my friend based on our age and our shared heritage, but it was still nice to have someone to talk to who wasn’t a therapist or a mega attractive quarterback.
My apartment was dark when I went through the door and I scolded myself for not leaving any lights on, my heart racing as I went through and turned them all on one by one. Maybe, maybe one day I’d be brave enough to walk through an apartment with the lights off. But it wasn’t today. I flopped on my bed when I got to my room and updated Janey that I was home safe. I let my head fall to the side, sitting upright when I noticed the haphazard state of my closet. The shirt I’d worn last night was to the side of the hamper, crumpled in a heap on the ground, and not safely tucked away with the rest of the dirty clothes. The hangers were unevenly spaced, the clothes slightly out of order, and the only pair of boots I owned were limp and falling to the side.
I rolled off the bed hurriedly, spending another hour meticulously straightening every article of clothing. I went through the apartment next, surveying every inch and reorganizing the silverware in the kitchen drawers so they were perfectly aligned. I was exhausted by the time I showered and climbed back into bed, being certain to throw my dirty clothes into the hamper this time.
I closed my eyes, wondering how long it would be before I showed the new control freak side of me to my boyfriend.
Soon.
——————————
Maverick seemed more than a little anxious on our next date. It was mid-October and New York was starting to change. The air was crisper, the wind between the tall buildings tunneling harshly against heavier jackets. The leaves were changing from their floral green to a variety of gold, chestnut, and currant, falling to the sidewalk and being swept into the dark corners of the streets.
He held my hand, the collar of his jacket rolled under his ears and they were pink from the wind. He was thoughtful, elsewhere, and a little on edge. In the city there was always a new place to go, and I was grateful he had a list somewhere hidden in his brain, finding us secluded cafes, restaurants, coffee shops, bars, and bakeries. He always kept us within a few blocks of my apartment and over the week
s he’d been slowly outlining some of my new favorite stops, including a bodega with gorgeous fresh fruit they kept under a green awning in front of the store.
“So,” I said, sipping on the warm coffee in my other hand, “How’s school going?”
He shrugged, “The fucking same, really. Senior year, it’s mostly analytical writing and human rights bullshit.”
“Human rights bullshit, that sounds nice.”
Maverick smiled down at me and my breath caught in my throat. He was too attractive sometimes. “I’m doing much better this year than I have been. I was barely passing freshman year, kind of turned into a freak about it the last two years, and Senior year,” he lifted my hand to his lips, “Has been a fucking breeze.” The blue of his eyes always looked so much lighter outside, like the ice in Rockefeller Center. He brought my hand down to his side and tugged me closer so he could look right down into my eyes. His smile was easy, brilliant, and he kissed me slowly, putting his other hand on my lower back. The heat between us intensified after a few short moments, my hand cupping the stubble on his jaw. He pulled away from me, groaning, and leaned his forehead against mine. “Five more weeks,” he whispered.
“Five more weeks? Until what?”
“The end of the semester, the beginning of the holiday season,” we started walking again, the hot points of my cheeks cooling with the wind. “Are you going anywhere?”
“For the holidays? I haven’t made any plans…” The truth was that I was hoping to be invited back to the Lockwood estate during our time off and hadn’t made any plans with my grandparents. Myrna was pushing hard for Christmas, and I was one week from caving.
He looked nervous all of a sudden, scratching at his scalp and looking everywhere but at me, “Would you want to come to the Hamptons with me?”
I smiled and sipped my coffee, just a hint of heavy cream making the bitterness more bearable, “Yeah, okay.”
“Really? For a couple of weeks?”
“Um, yeah, I was hoping you would ask.”
He grinned and kissed me on the cheek, “Cool, we can leave after the Yule Ball bullshit. I’ll sort out the details later.”
I shivered, thinking of the potential of that night, “Sounds good to me.”
Maverick left me at my apartment door again, giving me a chaste kiss and a broad smile. His thumb brushed my cheek before I stepped through the doorway. “I’ll see you soon.”
I nodded and smiled, closing the door, and letting my head fall back against it, my heart racing.
I felt like a teenager, my stomach full of battling butterflies.
——————————
It was another two weeks before I could see him again, and my memory therapy was going nowhere. I would wake up at the same part every time, a block keeping me from seeing anything past that moment when my mother tells me to be still.
Dr. Kroger remained perfectly patient, talking me down from the cold, nightmarish sweats with each session. She was beginning to worry about the stress the memory was taking on me mentally.
“Maybe we should take a break for a couple of weeks, Celeste. You’ve made some great progress—.”
I stood up from the chair, overwhelmed. “I don’t want to take a break.”
Dr. Kroger was silent, watching me pace.
“There has to be a way to get past this, I have to remember.”
“Why do you have to remember?”
I froze. Why did I have to remember.
“Because,” I started, “Because whatever happened is the reason I am why I am.”
Dr. Kroger nodded, smiling, “Celeste, we’re going to take a break. I understand your passion, but your finals are quickly approaching.”
Jenny was less help, her insistence on keeping away from Maverick sexually becoming more infuriating with each session. I mentioned to her about the wedge I thought was building between Maverick and I, and she had a different take on things, as she always did.
“I don’t think there’s a wedge, Celeste. I think you tie your emotional worth to your sexual capabilities.”
I was stunned. “What does that mean?”
“Your only other relationships, and I use that term loosely when referring to the trauma you experienced, have been sexual. Maverick was your first and you had an understanding that was less about a relationship and more about sex. With Elliott—.”
I kept my face from flinching, although his name still sent tremors of anxiety through my body.
“He made you feel like your worth was defined by what you could give him. And when you couldn’t give him the thing that he wanted, he lashed out at you.”
I remembered the stapler, the rope, the fury in his blackened gaze.
“You still have a lot to discover about who you are as a person, and I don’t want you to get lost in a relationship that could cause a rift in that discovery.”
I nodded, “It’s possible to discover who you are when you’re with someone else. People can grow and change together.”
“You’re absolutely right. And I have no doubt that Maverick is that person for you. It’s all about being aware of ourselves, our emotions, and the things we’re capable of.”
“I think I disagree with you, Jenny,” I said then, surprising even myself. “I wonder if I should be taking control of the power I have sexually. What better way to discover my self-worth when I get the thing I used to define me out of the way?”
Jenny smiled warmly, her eyes lit with pride, “The fact that you’re countering my point speaks volumes to how you’ve come to define yourself, Celeste.”
That decided it.
I was ready.
I called Maverick before I packed up from the seventh floor NYU library.
“Hi, beautiful.”
“I want to come to your next game.”
He paused, “This weekend?”
I stood up straighter, remembering the promise I’d made to Janey to find some couture lingerie that weekend. “Wait, no, next weekend.”
He laughed, “Alright. You’ll sit with my parents, that okay? Right on the five-yard line. You’ll practically be able to smell me sweating.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Hopefully the wonderful company of your parents will distract me from your gross sweaty body smell.” I was lying, I loved to see Maverick sweat. Especially when he was on top of me, comforter over his shoulders, elbows framing my forehead—.
“I’m glad you’re coming, Ace. Really glad. You’ll get to see me win.”
I smiled, “Me too. Maybe we could hang out after? Get a drink? Or do you have a post-game ritual?”
“You talking about breaking a rule?”
“I’m talking about breaking all the rules,” I said lowly.
He let out a breath, “No, no, no. I will send your horny ass home.”
I rolled my eyes, “Fine. A drink in a public bar? Preferably one without any busty waitresses.” I mumbled the last part.
“Alright, deal. I’ll have my parents wait for you in front of the stadium. Maybe you’ll witness our two-hundred-yard walk.”
“Sounds great,” I paused, “I miss you.”
“I miss you too.”
I bit my lip. “I’ll see you next weekend.”
“I’ll be the one throwing all the winning passes.”
Chapter 38
Maverick
Celeste was here. She was in the stands with my parents, watching me be a complete fucking badass on the football field. I was working harder during this game than I ever had before. I was showing off. And we were annihilating the other team. At half-time I saw a flash of blonde as we left the stadium, and I’d been looking for her in my spare time.
I’m talking about breaking all the rules. She’d said. Was she really ready? Had her therapist told her she was?
Fuck. Was I?
My body was pumped full of adrenaline, so energized I couldn’t sit down during the breaks. Coach pulled me out a couple of times and I took the moments to look for her in
that same spot. She was there. Sandwiched between Abel and Lucy. She smiled when she saw me and the traitorous red organ in my heart started racing impossibly faster. I was almost certainly having a heart attack when Fitz called me back. In the last quarter I knew she’d get access to the field and I’d get to see her there, waiting with the rest of the player’s girlfriends and parents.
The ref called the end of the game and I spun to the sidelines.
I pulled off my helmet and wiped the sweat from my forehead, looking over the bobbing heads of my teammates for the only blonde one I truly wanted to see. She was there, standing on the sidelines with my parents, wearing a gray coat over a hooded sweatshirt, her hair pulled back into a long ponytail. And glasses. Fucking glasses. She smiled when she saw me, her mouth closed. I pushed through the crowd of people, a faint sense of DeJa’Vu clouding my memory. A broad grin broke out over my face thinking about how far we’d come in the last few months. When she was finally in front of me, I didn’t hesitate, pulling her into my arms and kissing her in front of all of my teammates, their fan base, and even my parents. I held her close to me, my arms around her back, and she gripped my chilled forearms for a moment before relaxing against me.
The cheering, raucous sounds of the stadium drowned out around us as I sank into this moment. Everything was more perfect than I could have imagined. The Yule Ball was a week away, and after that, the Hamptons, where I was going to tell Celeste everything I’d been keeping from her, and then finally, finally we could really be together. No guilt, no strings, no one standing in our fucking way. Just us.
I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder and pulled away from her, glancing over at my roommate. His face was full of joy after our win, the war paint he insisted on smearing across his cheeks nearly obliterated with sweat, “Might want to save that for later, golden boy, you have an interview to do.”
I groaned and rested my head against her forehead as Brody leapt away cheering.
I wanted her. I wanted her now, here. On the fucking field.
“Come over,” I said quietly. I touched her chin with my thumb, kissing the side of her mouth.