by Daria M Paus
"I chose this life." He ran a hand through his hair to keep it from falling into his eyes, then let the hand drop back onto his lap and scoffed. "I never imagined this though."
"What?"
"Fans," he said. "It's too much."
I could only smile, knowing that if I began to protest, saying I knew exactly why everyone was so madly in love with him, it would make him feel awkward. That was one of the things I loved most about Johnny. How modest and down to earth he was. It was like he didn't know how special he was. He didn't seem to understand what people saw in him. I was certain that most celebrities were the opposite. I couldn’t stand people who bragged about how amazing they were, and liked to show off—who were convinced they were God’s gift to women.
“You must know how special you are.”
He was silent for a long time, then he shook his head. I believed he wasn't saying it out of some sort of shyness. He truly didn't know. I shook my head in bewilderment. Had this guy never looked into a mirror? How could such an obvious thing as his hot looks go unnoticed by him? How could he not know he had the lead role in every girl's secret fantasies. Including mine. How could he not know of his talent?
"Seriously?"
Another nod, and a genuinely confused look.
"Geez," I shook my head.
"What about you then?" He turned his eyes on me. "You're a fan?"
I let out a breath, cutting off a laugh. "Somethin' like that." Hell of a lot more than that, I wanted to add, but clamped my mouth shut before I could say something stupid.
“What made you choose this . . . work?"
He chuckled at my choice of word. "What made you choose yours?"
"I uh—" I hadn't expected the question to ricochet back at me. “It just happened like that. You know. I grew up on the farm; it was natural to stay.”
"But you enjoy it?"
I nodded, and when I was about to speak it occurred to me that he was trying to make the conversation about me again. Irritation grew inside of me and I forgot to answer his question and instead snapped.
"Why do you do that?"
His eyes widened.
"Avoid questions," I clarified, this time in a softer voice.
"You would, too, if you were me,” he said and I regretted snapping at him. It made sense. But I was not the press. I was not some nosy magazine hoping to expose his deepest secrets to sell copies. I just wanted to be his friend.
"Point taken," I said. "But—"
"But what?" There was a smile on his lips this time and I decided to push it a bit further.
"It's not even a personal question."
He seemed to think, then finally let out a breath and shook his head. I frowned, not sure what was going on.
"I grew up in—" He cut himself off as he must have seen my eyes widen in surprise. "What?"
"Nothin’! Go on."
He was silent for such a long time that I started to think he’d changed his mind, but then he spoke.
"My family was . . ." He trailed off as if he didn't know how to put it. "Troubled," he settled with, but the look on his face made me suspect there was more to it than that. I reached out, placing my hand on his arm and his eyes traveled down to study it.
"I turned to acting as a way to—" He fell silent, absentmindedly twisting the tip of his scarf around his fingers. “To escape reality," he said at last. "I was good at it. It felt good. And it just . . . continued somehow. I don’t even know what happened to get me to where I am now, I was too fucked up to remember much of that time, but—" He abruptly cut himself off, as if he’d realized he’d said too much. When his eyes met mine there was a shine in them that I hadn't seen before. I slid my hand down his arm and took his hand in mine.
"You never talked about this officially?"
He shook his head. “Fuck no."
I smiled despite the obvious sadness hanging in the air.
"Thanks.” I squeezed his hand.
“For what?”
“Telling me.”
He gave me a small smile, then turned his gaze toward the sea. I studied him, running a hand up and down his arm. My fingers stopped at the black anchor, and curiosity got the better of me. “Why did you choose this design?” I’d always wondered, but never managed to find any online information that explained the tattoo.
He didn’t look at me, but spoke turned to the sea.
“A reminder.”
I frowned. “Of what?”
“To stand firm in any storm.” He let out a cold laugh. “Which, obviously I don’t. It’s a fucking reminder of the person I’ll never be.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “A bloody joke, a curse—like me.”
I bit back a gasp.
“A fouled anchor?” I asked, tracing a finger along the rope curling around it. “Was it a part of the original design, the rope I mean?”
He shook his head and muttered, “No.”
Sadness washed over me and I started to regret bringing it up. His sudden, raw honesty wasn’t what I’d expected. The meaning behind the tattoo was just one more detail I hadn’t been prepared to hear. The fouled anchor—tangled, broken and useless. Caught in the darkness, unable to rise. Was it how he saw himself?
“Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
He snorted. “I’ve proven this anchor wrong all my life; it’s a bit too late to change now.”
“It’s never too late.”
He looked at me, emotion clear on his face. “I’m here, aren’t I? Running away.”
I couldn’t deny that. But who wouldn't run from a situation like the one he was stuck in?
“You’ll go back, and you’ll deal with it.”
Turning his gaze away, he mumbled, “It’s easy for you to say.”
“I won’t pretend to understand, but I know how it feels to be humiliated, to be used and lied to. To be laughed at.”
“The bullying?”
“That, and then there was a guy. He was an asshole, only, I didn’t see it at the time.”
“What happened?”
I groaned, regretting bringing it up. My ex wasn't the smartest topic to bring up. Johnny looked at me, waiting for me to speak. “I was young and dumb and in love, he used that to . . . you know?” I grimaced, not wanting to say the word in front of Johnny. Dropping my gaze onto my lap, I went on. “I thought I was his girlfriend, and I guess I was, for one night. The next day he dumped me in front of his mates. They all laughed. And they kept on laughing behind my back for the rest of that semester.” I dared a glance at Johnny. His face was hard, expression grim as he looked back at me.
“Fucking—”
I held up a hand, cutting him off. “It’s ok. That’s my point. I got over it. And you will get over this, too.”
He let out a sharp exhale, shaking his head at me. “You’re one of a kind, you know that?”
I giggled, asking the exact same question as I’d asked before. “Is that a good or a bad thing?”
As expected, he handed me the same reply. “Fucking good.”
I grinned. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
We both fell silent.
My mind started to wander. That intrusive thought once again tried to remind me of its existence. Something I couldn’t grasp. A thought, a memory, I wasn't sure which, but somewhere out of reach it was floating.
Johnny spoke up. His voice abruptly bringing me back to reality and I shook my head to clear it from annoying thoughts. Hadn't I promised myself to enjoy the moment?
“You ok?”
I nodded, then sighed. I didn’t want to lie to him.
“I don’t remember much from the accident,” I said. “I woke up on the beach, but before that it’s mostly blank. I have a feelin’ I’m missin’ somethin’. Somethin’ important.”
I felt his hand on my arm and looked up.
“It’ll come back when you’re ready,” he said. “You went through something terrifying, it’s normal to—" He gestured with his eyes to my head. “You know, repress t
hings.”
I nodded. Studying his face, I got the impression he knew all too well what he was talking about.
“Somethin’ terrifyin’ happened to you, too, didn’t’ it?”
He didn’t look away, and the small nod made the worry about my own mental health vanish in a flash.
“Yeah,” he whispered. “My life has been a constant fuck up since day one; should’ve learned to live with it by now.”
My eyes grew wide, and he seemed to realize what he’d said. He muttered something I couldn’t hear, then shook his head.
“You can tell me,” I coaxed. “You don’t have to. But I’m here if you want two good ol’ ears to listen and a shoulder to cry on.”
He let out a short laugh.
“I’m fine. Thanks though.”
I’d seen through that lie since day one, but I also knew there was no point pushing him.
"How about a swim?" he suddenly said.
I shot the waves a skeptical look. They didn't look inviting, but the thought of being half-naked with Johnny didn't sound all that wrong either.
“Let's do it!"
We left our stone and went back to the little beach, and the nervousness hit again like a bolt of electricity. I hesitated, but Johnny had already begun unbuttoning his shirt. Sucking in a quivering breath, I followed his example, taking off my clothes before I had the chance to change my mind. At this moment I thanked God I’d been wearing a bikini instead of regular underwear the day the storm had hit. It was a good bikini, turquoise with little orange patterns to match my hair.
"Ready?" he asked, snapping me out of my thoughts once again. I didn't dare to look at him, but felt his eyes burn into my skin. Images of last night’s intimacy came washing over me in waves more powerful than the ocean itself. My cheeks turned red and the warmth of the blush spread through my body.
I took a few deep breaths to calm my pulse. "Ready."
∞∞∞
We stumbled through the front door wet and shivering. Johnny took my hand and together we headed for the bathroom. This time he switched on a much softer lamp as we entered, and the room transformed. The bathroom I’d seen before looked totally different in the soft warm light. It was romantic and inviting, the kind of atmosphere I’d only seen in movies and never thought I’d find myself thrown into in real life. I once again found myself rooted to the spot, staring in awe at the setting. I didn’t notice him moving to fill the tub, but all of a sudden it was full. The warm water bubbled and hissed, and a rose scented steam filled the room.
Johnny took my hand again and I looked up at him. Our eyes met and I lost myself in his gaze. Too occupied by staring at him, I didn't see where I put my feet and slipped on a wet spot. My arms flew out trying to catch something to hold on to, and we both landed in the water with a splash. When the shock settled, and I could breathe again, I realized I was still clinging to him, my back pressed against the wall of the tub by the weight of his body on top of mine.
"Are you all right," he asked, moving away enough to be able to look at me. Still somewhat dazed, I managed a breathless nod.
"You?"
He nodded, too.
I was about to speak, but cut myself off as I saw the look on his face staring back at me. Those deep dark eyes burned into mine with an intensity I’d never seen before. Trapped under the weight of his body, I felt like a baby animal in the lock of a lion.
I swallowed, licking my lips as his parted. His eyes seemed to darken as they gazed directly into mine. He shifted his body, drawing closer to me again, and I let out a trembling breath. If I let this continue, there would be no backing out. Clinging to the last strings of rationality, I managed to ask, "Are you sure this is a good—”
He cut me off, “Fuck that."
His voice sent shivers all through me as he growled into my neck. "I want you."
His lips hovered over mine, and the few seconds of indecision left me trembling in anticipation.
He kissed me without warning, and the feel of those full, salty lips against mine once again made me lightheaded as the heat pulsated in my veins. With a low groan, he deepened the kiss, and fire exploded inside of me.
His hands moved over my body, leaving goosebumps in their wake. My pulse went into overdrive; throbbing in every possible place of my body. His whole being was packed with so much emotion and pent up passion that at first, it scared me. But as his hands found the bikini string, nervousness rushed over me instead. I held my breath as he untied it, and the few seconds as he moved away to watch the piece of clothing disappear into the water, I considered bolting. This wasn’t me getting naked with the dull boy next door. This was something so different and so much riskier, that it amazed me how I could even consider it. I already knew I wouldn’t be able to get away from this island with my heart intact, but what about the damage control? Just because I was already doomed to end up with a broken heart, didn’t mean I had to make it worse. Meeting him, and falling for him was one thing, sleeping with him was a whole new level of stupid.
“You’re beautiful.” His voice forced me out of my head and back to the moment. “Stunning.”
I could only stare at him. Then he smiled, and all the fear and insecurity melted away. Who he was didn’t matter, not in a moment like this. My body sure as hell didn’t care, it just wanted him, and I no longer had the strength to resist it.
"Bree.”
He didn't need to speak, the question was evident in his eyes. And yes, I was sure, I'd never wanted anything more badly than I wanted him right now.
12
Crash & Burn
I didn’t remember how we’d ended up in the bedroom, but as I felt him shift, I lazily opened my eyes to see him throw the blanket off of him to sit up.
I watched him as he sat with his back toward me, wrapping the blanket around his waist and sighed. Something was wrong. It had been too good to be true. Nothing with Johnny was easy, and this wasn't an exception.
I studied his naked body, illuminated by the moonlight seeping through the bedroom window. He’s perfect, the little voice whispered. He's the perfect disaster. I was bound to agree for once. There was no doubt he was the most handsome thing I’d ever seen, and I would gladly have settled with that, but the best things in life were never easy. Johnny was one of those things.
I sat, too, scooting over to put a hand on his back. “Hey?”
The moment my fingers touched his skin, he tensed, and I felt a shiver ripple through him.
“What's wrong?”
His silence made me sigh.
“Johnny?” I moved closer, wrapped one arm around him and leaned in to kiss his neck.
He didn't move, didn't even react to my touches. “Hey.” I shifted so I could see his face, and the moment I saw that haunted look in his eyes I regretted it. Ignorance sometimes was bliss. There was no doubt, he regretted sleeping with me. He felt bad. If his stiff posture facing away from me hadn't given him away, the look on his face surely did.
“Please don't do this.” The words left my mouth before I could stop them.
He let out a quivering breath.
“Bree I—” He shook his head.
I waited, preparing for the worst, but the words he’d been about to speak never came.
“Johnny, please.” I hugged him from behind, feeling him tense as my overheated skin pressed against his. I kissed his neck, enjoying the shivers rippling through him.
“Bree.” His voice came out as a breathless whisper. “Wait.”
It took all my willpower to stop. My breath trembled as I sat, waiting for him to make up his mind.
He didn't move, nor did he speak. Watching him tremble from tension, and listening to shallow breaths . . . I couldn't take it anymore. Irritation bubbled up. Why was he struggling so hard to resist what he obviously wanted? Hell, just moments ago he’d been all over me, leaving zero doubt about the attraction level.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I wanted to cry. I'd just had the best nigh
t of my life. And now this? “If you didn't want it, you should’ve thought about that before—” My voice broke. I moved away from him.
He rubbed his eyes before running a hand through his hair. I stared as the movement flexed his muscles, trying to ignore the clenching of my belly.
“It’s not what you think.” His voice was just a whisper.
“Then what!”
“I—I can't.”
The sorrow in his voice cut through my anger. He had issues—big ones, but he wasn't the asshole I'd accused him of being.
“Talk to me.” I moved closer again, putting a hand on his arm. “Tell me what's going on. You don't have to face everything alone.”
He sighed, but angled his body to face me.
I smiled at his confused expression. “It’s okay. I’m not one of those women, remember?”
He gave me a weak smile, hanging his head. “That's the problem,” he whispered. “You’re different. You’re—” He cut himself off. “You make me—”
I took his hand, urging him on softly. “What?”
The look on his face shifted. He clenched his jaw, eyes turning blank.
“Forget it.”
“Johnny.”
He shook his head. A silent plea to make me back off.
“I ain’t gonna sell you out to the press; I don't give a rat’s ass about such things. I mean it. Trust me.”
The look in his eyes softened. “That's not it.”
“Then what?”
“Just leave it!” he snapped, and I flinched. “Just—” He moved away from my touch. “Leave me alone.”
Tears fell from my eyes as he got up. I couldn't even enjoy the sight of his naked body as he searched for his jeans. Instead, I closed my eyes, and the sound of the door opening and closing felt like a slap to my face.
∞∞∞
I found him on the porch, shivering in the cold wind, wearing nothing but those old jeans. Moving to stand next to him, I let my eyes drift to the sea.
After what felt like forever, he spoke, but the whisper flew away with the wind before I could catch it. I turned to him waiting for him to repeat it.
He looked at me, then sighed.
