by Shey Stahl
Despite the awkwardness of millions witnessing our reunion, there’s an undeniable sense of familiarity between us, both confusing and comforting. It’s effortless, the way we come together, our bodies pressed to one another with no hesitation. He leans his forehead against mine and removes his hand from his pocket to touch my cheek. Electricity jolts through every nerve ending inside my body and it’s like I’ve been brought to life again by his touch and his voice as he sings the chorus.
“Take this rose of revenge, what’ll ya make of it? It’s the axe that forgets, the tree remembers. Honey, I’m on my knees. I give you these roses of revenge, I don’t know any other way.”
My mind and heart battle for dominance through the entire song and all I want to do is wrap my arms around him, press my chest into his and kiss him. But I can’t, and I don’t. Instead, we finish the song together, and as the music fades, his hand slips from my body, his eyes heavy on mine.
I want to say so much to him, but there just isn’t time for it once we’re backstage. I try to say something, anything, but we’re pulled apart. I barely have time to take a breath before I’m rushed away to accept my award for Best Rock Album of the Year.
Me. The princess of pop. Can you believe it?
When they say my name, time stops and there’s only one person who holds my stare.
Him.
The one who after everything still sends my heart racing and the spark that sends a flush in my cheeks.
I cry. As does Bella and my mom in the audience. Holding the golden trophy in my hand, I look for meaning and a way to express my gratitude. At first, nothing comes to mind. A thank-you seems insignificant.
My hands shake as I look out at the audience again. I should have written a damn speech, but I’ve always been a firm believer in speaking from the heart. Swallowing over the lump in my throat, my voice wavers. “This was the first album I did for me. I wrote every lyric. I produced it and in a lot of ways, I feel like this is my debut album because this is the first one I ever had a say in. I did it for me.” I stare down at the award, tears flowing like water works. “I created something that truly represents me and though I’m grateful for everyone who supported me, I’m even more appreciative for you accepting me for who I am. Someone once told me, you have a voice. Use it for you, and only you. You owe it to yourself to create your truth.” My eyes find his for the first time. With his elbows propped up on the arms of the chair, his hands clasped in front of his mouth are holding the smirk at bay. In true Revel fashion, he winks at me. My heart bursts with adoration for him. “I’m not sure he knows how I feel about him, but I couldn’t have done it without you.” And then I raise the Grammy, to him.
There’s no smile. No emotion. Nothing. He’s still incredibly good at hiding his emotions from me. His eyes drop from mine, his jaw tight and if I had to guess, he’s shaking, but I can’t tell for sure. He doesn’t look up again.
Revel wins for Best Song of the Year for “Roses of Revenge,” and though he’s never been one to give a speech, the front man rises from his seat next to Cruz. Looking over his shoulder, he smiles in my direction and gives me a nod to join him on stage.
I do, but as I’m walking up there, his hand in mine, I think about all the things he said to me on that tour, the words that have been ingrained in every part of me since we parted.
“Tastes like sweet cherry pie.”
“Don’t bite the apple, Red.”
“I want to keep you the way you are, princess. Innocent and untouched.”
“You’ve never been touched by me.”
“Your heart makes my favorite sound.”
“No one calls you princess but me.”
“It’s precious. The way you think I give a goddamn.”
Sometimes walking away is the greatest act of love you can give yourself. I still believe that, and even more so now looking at Revel standing on a stage with me, his head bowed to a Grammy looking for something to say.
It’s then the fall seems worth it. Revel holds up the Grammy, his head drops as an uneasy silence falls with the wavering of his voice when he says, “This should really go to you, Red.”
His eyes hold mine and every single person in the room cheers. And I’m crying again. On stage. I’m angry and sad. I hate that it didn’t work for us the first time and that we didn’t have our happy ever after. I also knew, deep down, maybe he wasn’t capable of offering it. A girl like me, I don’t love casually. I love as fiercely and feistily as the hair on my head. Without a doubt, I still love him, and I have no idea where this leaves us.
You think we have an interaction backstage, don’t you? We won a Grammy together and performed, we should at least be able to talk at some point, right? Nope. I don’t see him again until the afterparty. It doesn’t surprise me, but at first he pretends I’m not there, or that he doesn’t see me. The only indication I have that he knows I’m here is the tensing of his body anytime my name is mentioned in passing.
I’m standing in a line waiting to be interviewed, Bella beside me Facetiming her baby who can barely hold his own head up, let alone talk to her.
The faces and voices around me hold no meaning, until “Princess” is whispered in my ear.
God, the way my name sounds on his lips. . . I close my eyes, taking a deep breath and letting the sound wash over me.
I turn, his smile igniting my own. Do you notice his cup? It’s water. I smile. I look at his eyes, the blue, the clearness to them. “You’re sober.” It’s not a question, but he nods. “It looks good on you.”
His gaze falters, then returns, so intense that it makes me think I’ve upset him. He shakes his head and my blush deepens. The weariness eases from his face. “You deserve it,” he whispers, his eyes moving around the room, no doubt looking for an exit. Formal events had never been his thing. And then I think about his words, you deserve it. Is he talking about him being sober, or the Grammy? I’m not sure of the answer, but I don’t ask for clarification either. I like to think maybe it’s both.
The moment his body moves away I crave the heat. My fingers itch to pull him back, but I know I can’t. Maybe we had our chance. Just because he didn’t love me the way Prince Charming would have, doesn’t mean it wasn’t real. He’s like a storm. A raging one that comes out of nowhere. And after the storm when his winds ceased, I just wanted to say I survived. That I loved him through it. That I weathered him. Even when he gave up, even when I didn’t want to, and even when I shouldn’t have, but knew I had to. For him.
With a heavy breath, and without another word, he leaves, his hands buried in his pockets.
Bella grabs onto my hand, nudging me forward. She’s still Facetiming the babysitter. “Where’s he going?”
“I. . . don’t know. Home?”
“What? Really? They have press to do and interviews.”
Cruz approaches, his arm around Bella. He kisses her cheek, waves to the babysitter, and then smiles at me. “Where is he?”
“Why does everyone keep asking me that?”
He laughs. “Because he doesn’t like us. If he’s not next to you, I’m assuming he left.”
“Then you’d be correct.”
Liz darts out of line, blinking rapidly. “What? He’s gone?”
I nod.
Her face falls like my heart. “That asshole. He said he’d stay.”
“He lies,” Cruz adds, making cooing noises at his son.
I can’t help but feel confused as to why he left and wonder if I’ll ever see him again. My words, “It’s over,” haunt me. Had I meant so little to him that he couldn’t stay or even talk to me more than a few words?
YOU DIDN’T SEE THAT COMING
REVEL
I should have stayed.
No, I shouldn’t have.
I should have told her I was sorry to start with.
Yes, I should have.
Regardless of what I should or shouldn’t have done, here I was again, walking away.
Liz calls me.
Cruz calls me.
Red. . . she doesn’t. Probably because I’ve confused her once again.
I left. I couldn’t stay. If I did, I would have done it for the wrong reasons. They would have been selfish and only because I couldn’t get enough of her. She needs her night in the spotlight without me there interrupting or causing a scene. If I stayed, that’s what it would have been about. It’s why I didn’t attend the preshow and wouldn’t be attending any of the after parties. I might be sober but I’m not stupid. I knew what I’d be walking into.
The moment I saw her standing there in that black dress, it was hard to fucking breathe. It took every ounce of self-control I had—which is a lot—not to run to her and beg her to take me back, and then if she said no, kidnap her and make her.
I desperately want to take her with me, but I keep my distance. Deep down I want to tell you me lurking in the back of the room like some kind of creeper had been for her benefit. It wasn’t. It was all me. The consuming urge to hold her, bury my face in the gentle curve of her neck and let those red curls wash over me, it’s more than I can handle.
So I stood back. I let her have the spotlight she deserves. I let the world bask in her beauty without my presence. I ruined her previous Grammy night and I wouldn’t make tonight about me, again.
In the back of my mind, I think about that stupid piece of advice Liz gave me in rehab. “When two people are meant to be, distance and time don’t exist. They’ll find their way back to one another.”
While I hated her at the time for saying it, and told her to get the fuck out, as I watched Red bathed in glitter and gold, I finally, in part, understand what it was Liz had been talking about.
I think about red curls under a purple haze long after I leave.
HEY, RED?
TAYLAN
I left Los Angles the following day and headed back to Paris where I had been touring. Only this time, I made a detour. The city comes into view, gold and beautiful as I cross the Seine. And there, in all its beauty, is the Eiffel Tower. It’s like a vision from a storybook, metal projecting upwards and all I can think about is him.
Always.
Him.
Why hadn’t he stayed?
I know what you’re thinking. I told him we were over so what did I expect him to do? I didn’t expect him to walk away. I thought for sure he would have at least, I don’t know, said something more than he did.
Tears surface again, because I’m an emotional weirdo these days. Why am I so upset about it when I didn’t talk to him for a year? Should I have reached out? No, I said I wouldn’t and honestly, I didn’t have a lot of time during that year with releasing the album. Excuses. All excuses. I can close my eyes and pretend this new version of me is all right, but it’s a lie. I can’t accept that we’re over. I don’t want to.
Screw this. If he’s not going to talk to me, damn it, then I’m going to find him and make him talk to me. Make him tell me to my face that it’s over for him too.
Yes, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
With a renewed sense of determination, I turn around, intent on finding Ben and making him drive me back to the airport, when I run head-on into someone’s chest.
“Hey, Red,” the man whispers.
My eyes snap up.
Holy.
Crap.
Did your heart just explode like mine? I’m not sure I’m even breathing at this point.
He came for me. Either that or he’s in Paris on vacation, but he’s set to go on tour in two weeks so who knows. Ha. Funny. Revel wouldn’t go to Paris on vacation. He’d go to Tijuana just to get away from tourists. So that means. . . me. He’s here for me.
In the darkness, his eyes find mine, but they tell a different story from the one I knew from before. This one splits my chest and bares my soul for him.
It takes me a moment to find my voice and steady my heart to keep from passing out. I inhale a deep breath, letting the air fill my lungs. I feel like I need every tiny grain of strength I can muster to say what I need to say. “Does anyone know you’re here?”
He shrugs one shoulder, his nearness like a noose around my neck, nearly suffocating yet something I desperately crave. “I’m pretty good at disappearing.”
Hundreds of people walk by us, no mind to us standing in the middle of the street, staring at one another. “Yeah, you are.” I wait, but no words follow. I’m not sure what I’m expecting him to say. The noises of the busy streets and unfamiliar faces fill the space between us. “You left. I thought you. . . well, I thought maybe it was really over.”
“Don’t do that,” he chokes, the words breaking. “I never said that I didn’t want you.” He’s right, he didn’t. He swallows, and I can see that he’s chewing on the inside of his cheek. It takes him a moment but then he draws in a heavy breath, his chest expanding. “I thought about you all night.” His brow pinches together. “I’m sorry I didn’t stay.”
My throat tightens. “Why did you leave?” I ask, watching his blinks quicken, his control slipping. “I just. . . I thought you would have stayed.”
His eyes lift to mine and there’s still coldness in them. “What can I say, I’m a fuckin’ dick.”
Rolling my eyes, laughter slips past my lips. With the same intensity he always had, he’s still the same guy I fell for. “I think it’s more than that,” I tell him, watching his face to reveal the truth.
But then to my surprise, his expression shifts, and then he focuses on my lips. “I’m not sure. Nerves?”
I smile, drawing in a deep breath, and push forward, wanting to know his reasoning. “You expect me to believe you were nervous?”
With his eyes on the ground, he whispers, “I was nervous about seeing you again. . . . ” Shrugging, he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I didn’t know what to say to you after everything I’d put you through. I panicked and left. I didn’t want the night to be about me.” His words die off as he sucks in a deep, shaky breath. For a moment, I’m stunned by his sudden nervousness. He’s almost distraught over what he’s trying to say. I almost feel guilty for bringing it up. “I didn’t want to go to rehab. But fuck. . . . ” He runs his hands over his face, covering his eyes for a moment. And then he drops them and looks at me with such intensity I damn near gasp. “I’m so fucking sorry for the shit I put you through, but I’m a better man for what you did for me.”
We’re both quiet as I process everything he said to me.
We stand in silence until I’m finally able to ask what I want to ask. Where we stand and if there is an us in his future, because I’ve never been so sure of what I want. I breathe in deeply, trying to calm my nerves. It’s like lightning has hit my chest and sent my heartbeat into overdrive. “So where does this leave us now?”
His passion speaks like a slow crescendo, his lids lowering in a heavy blink. I’m caught in a moment, unmoving, waiting for his words. And then he speaks, slowly, with that familiar southern accent he rarely reveals. “I guess that depends on you. Either I’m here to see what’s left after the fall, or I leave and you go on with your life. It’s your call, Red. It’s always been up to you.”
Never in my life have words affected me like they do now. My chin shakes, stupid happy tears surfacing. I raise my palm to his cheek, holding his eyes captive as the tips of my fingers dance over his jaw. “It’s not over.”
His shoulders are tense, his body taunt against mine as his breathing, and mine, seem forced. He lifts his head a little, just enough to see my eyes. His swallow is thick. “You tamed me and then let me back in the wild. It’s cruel really, what you put me through, taming the beast. I don’t belong there without you.” He shakes his head. “I know I’m making this about me, but it really is all about me. It’s hopeless. I thought rehab could get you out of my head too, but all that got me was sober and even more restless.” Stepping closer, our chests press together, his lips hovering over mine. His breath blows over mine when he whispers, “You’re in
my blood. Every pulse and heartbeat is for you, Red.”
I know what you’re thinking, who is this guy? It’s certainly not the Revel Slade the world knows, is it? Did he smack his head on the drum riser again? Where’s the guy who said my mouth would look better with his cock in it?
I pull back slightly to look at him. There are no bloodshot eyes, no dirty teasing smirk, only true blue and honest vows. I mean words. Ha. We’re not there yet. “For better or worse?” I tease. I used to think his eyes were cold and restless. I’m wrong. The hottest fires always burn blue.
A grin graces his lips as he wraps both arms around me. “It’ll probably be worse.”
“And there lies the fun.” Closing the distance between our lips, I kiss him. His lips are warm and soft, yet I can sense the eagerness behind them. Rising up on my tippy-toes, I fist my hands in his jacket, pulling him closer, my mouth surrendering to his. It’s not a chaste kiss. It’s one that should be done in a bedroom, but I give it everything I have to give. Everything about it seems familiar, yet new because this is new. We’re not trying to prove anything. We’re simply surrendering. His lips are soft, moving against mine fiercely, tongues exploring with soft moans and content sighing.
His forehead leans against mine and I let him give me his love. I let his hands roam my body, and his lips mark me. I don’t know where this is going to take us now, but just like our song, I give my heart to him, because I don’t know any other way.
I’ll tell you where it took us for the time being. Back to my hotel room. Revel breathes heavily against my lips, his body rocking against me in the most desperate way. Adjusting his weight, he peers down at me. “It’s been a long time for me,” he admits.
I knew we’d end up here and don’t care we’ve already found ourselves in bed. I just want to be alone with him. “How long?”
“Not since you. . . .”
My heart bursts with love for him. I reach up, touching the side of his face. The feel of his scruffy jaw, the need in his pleading words, I can’t help but remember how I fell for him the first time. My feelings remain the same, strong and rampant. My heart beats wildly, for him.
