Paris Hemsworth's Road to Wonderland (Road to Wonderland Series Book 2)

by Marlow, Francesca

“R...” I stutter “R-Rob. This is… It’s not true, is it?”

  “Paris, I’m… I’m so sorry.”

  That’s when my whole world comes crashing down around me again. I clutch at my chest as I struggle to breathe. This can’t be happening. It just can’t.

  As the tears begin to pool in my eyes, I find myself begging for him to speak. “This can’t be true. It just can’t. Rob, please tell him he’s got it wrong. Say something. Anything. Please.”

  “That’s right, little girl. Rob here likes boys,” Alastair snipes in a patronising tone.

  “I said enough!” Before I know it, Rob is charging from his spot, grabbing Alastair with his fists before slamming him against the wall. My head’s so lost in a colossal spin, I’m oblivious to their fight. My fingers recoil into a fist. The anger starts to burn deep along with the sting in my eyes. All this time, this is what’s been bothering him. All this time, I’ve been a pawn in Professor Stone’s conquest to discover his true sexuality. Listening to my heart shatter into a million pieces on the floor causes a deafening ringing in my ears. It all but drowns out whatever the two of them are saying. I need something to shut it up, to make it stop. The heave in my chest is heavy as I struggle to find my breath.

  “Did that make you feel good? You feel like a big man now? Well, let me tell you this… It makes me realise beyond any doubt, I was right to walk away from you. Is this how you get your kicks, Alastair? Is it?” Rob snarls in his face.

  “Well, it’s certainly how you get yours.” He laughs.

  I watch out of the corner of my eye as Rob raises his arm. Quite frankly, I want to punch both their lights out right now. It’s either that or drop to a heap on the floor.

  “Stop it. Just stop it!” I scream. The tears begin to stream down my cheeks as I launch myself at Rob to pull him away. “You’re the liar, Rob. How could you?” I begin to attack his chest, one punch landing straight after the other on constant repeat. I can’t stop myself.

  How could he do this to me?

  He just stands there taking it for a few moments, his head hung in shame. He doesn’t fight me back. An arm snakes around my waist from behind, attempting to drag me away.

  “Get off of me. Get off of me.” I kick and squirm. There’s no way in hell that guy is touching me. I manage to wriggle free and before I know it, my elbow has swung in his face. I’ve never hit anything as hard as I just hit his nose.

  “You bitch!”

  Not hanging around to see the devastation, I run straight for the bedroom, scurrying to collect my things. For the second time, I feel a desperate need to escape this apartment, except this time, I know it’s for good. I can’t believe how blind I’ve been. I don’t know how I never saw the signs. I knew I was never good enough for him, but I put that down to my age, to my inadequate looks, my inexperience in the bedroom, anything and everything but this. I also knew it would come to an end one day. It was inevitable, but not like this. I’ve never felt so betrayed, so humiliated and so much of a fool as I do right now.

  “Paris, please wait. Please, let me explain.”

  His hand reaches out to touch me, but it’s too little, too late.

  “Don’t you dare touch me,” I snap through gritted teeth. I can’t even look at him, let alone bear for him to touch me.

  “Please? I need to explain. I have to explain.”

  I swing around, clutching my clothes to my chest, barely able to see through the pools of water in my eyes. “Explain what exactly? That all this has just been a game to you?”

  “You’re not a game to me, Paris. You never were.”

  “Then what exactly was I then? Because I certainly wasn’t your girlfriend and you made damn sure no one would ever find out about us. Keeping me locked away in here so you could shag your way to an answer about your sexuality. Is that what this was?”

  He slumps onto the bed in defeat. He looks so tired and worn down, something in my heart flickers – a moment’s relapse where I want to comfort him.

  “I met Alastair a year ago when I went travelling over the summer months. I knew he was gay from the start. He never hid it. I’d never had those sorts of feelings towards a guy until I met him. He pursued me and I couldn’t resist. He can be quite the charmer, despite what you’ve just seen of him back there.”

  “Please, Rob, I don’t want to hear anymore. Just stop,” I beg.

  But he ignores me completely. “He’s the only man I’ve ever felt anything like that for. When I came back to the UK after travelling, I ended things with him. It was all just lust. I never loved him. I was just exploring a different avenue, that’s all.”

  “Like you were exploring me.”

  “Paris, I’ve had plenty of women.”

  “Not helping,” I growl.

  “What I mean is, I prefer women. Alastair was a one time only thing. A flash in the pan. He’s not who I want to be with. That’s not who I want to be. I want to be with you. I told Alastair that, but he’s not taken it well. He won’t give up.” His shoulders are now hung over his knees, his hands clasped together. He has the appearance of a broken man just like my heart. I still can’t muster up any sympathy towards him. This has nothing to do with him liking men; this is about my trust being shattered once again. I’m as frustrated with myself as I am him.

  Having finished zipping up my jeans, I swipe at my eyes with the back of my hand. “You don’t want to be with me. How could you want to be with me? If you did, you would have respected me enough to open up to me and tell me the truth. Did you think I couldn’t handle it? Did you think I’d never find out? I’m not that much of a fool, despite feeling like the biggest one on the planet right now.”

  “It’s me who’s been a fool, Paris. Not you. I swear to you, I don’t want to be with him. I only want you.”

  Stood watching over him with my arms folded, my eyes rake over the man before me. I genuinely want to believe what he is saying is true, but deep down, I know it’s all lies. He wouldn’t have treated me this way if he wanted to be with me.

  “For one, he clearly doesn’t see it that way.” I sigh, lowering my voice, sadly. “And two, we don’t get to choose what we are, Rob. We just are. You’ve had a relationship with a man. There’s obviously something there. Whether that’s a permanent thing or not, I don’t know.”

  It’s then it hits me… We don’t get choose who we like and who we don’t. It just happens, like it did for my Mum. I want to believe so much that there was an undeniable connection between her and John - that there was nothing in her power she could do to stop it. Just like what Rob is explaining now. He couldn’t stop his attraction to Alastair, just as much as I couldn’t stop mine to him or my mum’s to John.

  “There’s so many times I’ve thought about telling you. In fact, after you turned up here last night, I decided more than anything, I want to be with you. That in the hallway, right there before he showed up, I was about to be honest with you. I swear.”

  “Forgive me if I don’t believe you.”

  “I’m bisexual, Paris.” He glances up at me from the bed. “And that’s the first time I’ve ever admitted that to anyone… Even myself.”

  For the first time since meeting Professor Stone, he looks weak. I had him up on such a high pedestal for being strong and domineering, when under the surface, he’s just as much of a mess as me. The sad truth is, if he had given me a chance and let me in, I might have had an ounce of respect for him. We may have stood a chance. Our two messed up minds together could have worked, but now, all the trust and respect I had for him is gone. Not only is he weak, but I am, too, because for some strange reason, I’m feeling fragile to the anguish flashing across his face.

  I slowly begin to fall into the space next to him on the bed. “What you are, Rob, is confused, and you sound like a man who’s trying to convince himself of something he probably already knows in his heart.”

  “I swear to you, I’m bisexual. I’m not gay. Cast your mind back over all the time we’ve spent
together. I’ve been nothing but into you. It was all real; none of it was fake.” His hand has stretched out to cup my cheek as his thumb brushes lightly across the bone. I can’t lie and say the warmth of his hand doesn’t feel good.

  “Rob, I-”

  “Very cosy in here. I think you might have broken my nose, little girl.”

  Completely cut off from my words, I’m reminded of the fact we are not alone and what exactly has just happened here. From one breath to the next, I pull my head away and rise to my feet. “You’re lucky it was only your nose.” Instantly losing any sympathy I have towards Rob, I grab my jacket and bag, heading towards the door.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t do this.” I turn to look back at Rob, furrowing my brow as I speak “I’m going.” We both know what that means.

  “That’s right. Run along, little girl. Back to your dolls and tree house.”

  I roll my eyes but not at him, just at how much I wish that statement were true. I wish I could run back to the tree house – to a time when things like this didn’t happen. The responsibilities of adulthood and the goddamn heartache I seem to crash straight into at every turn.

  “Go to hell.”

  It’s all I have left as I exit the apartment and Rob’s life. I have plenty more tears to shed, but I’ll be damned if I shed them here.

  Seventeen

  13th May 2001

  It’s been another one of those journeys where I can’t quite remember how I’ve made it back to our dormitory. It’s funny because when something bad happens to me, I usually run a mile, but not this time. I've dragged my feet across the paths of town while lost in a world of what ifs - ones that could have protected my heart from aching the way it is doing right now. It's beating and pounding so hard, I'm surprised the people passing me by are oblivious to the sound and thump of it as they walk straight past me.

  What if I had never gone out that first night?

  What if I had never gone home with him?

  What if I had quit the class as soon as I knew he was my tutor?

  What if I had been strong enough at our meeting to resist him?

  But most of all… What if I had told my best friend the truth from the start? Is it possible she would have been able to spot the signs that I failed to miss? Either way, at least I wouldn’t be left with the suffocating guilt of the untold truths. At least now, when I walk into this room, there would be someone to comfort me when I need it the most. Yet, there isn’t. I have to look her in the eye and pretend everything is okay. I have no other choice because I can’t bear to see another face filled with disappointment because of my mistakes.

  I’ve lost Rob. I’ve lied to Izzy.

  I try to convince myself I don’t care, but I do, and it hurts like hell to have been deceived in this way. I’m so annoyed at myself for allowing someone to have such an effect on me, and I feel like shit because of it. I let my guard down and look what’s happened. When he kissed me last night like I begged him to, it was our last time, and I’m glad, so fucking glad. I don’t want to be with a man who offers false hope, a man so screwed up he can’t even be truthful with someone he’s supposed to care about. People always say there’s a fine line between love and hate; now I understand what they mean. In one fell swoop, I’ve lost my balance on the tightrope of life and now I feel like I'm tumbling to the depths of despair.

  I’m ashamed of myself.

  As I stand outside the room that Izzy and I share, I take a long, deep breath, mustering up a shred of composure to slap on an ‘I’m as happy as I’ve ever been’ face. Luckily, the light breeze on the walk home has created a flush to my cheeks and nose, disguising the tears I’ve already shed. Twisting the handle, I slip inside, trying my best to act normal and mask the complete devastation I’m suffering.

  “Hey,” I sigh, dropping my bag on the chair by my bed.

  “Well, if it isn’t Miss Dirty-stop-out,” she jokes while she sits on her bed with the laptop planted in her lap.

  “Sorry, I should have text.” I sniff, deliberately turning my back to her to shimmy out of my jacket, allowing me a few more moments’ grace.

  “Goose, I’m not your mother, you know, but I do have a tendency to worry about you from time to time.”

  “I know…”

  I don't know why, but for some reason, I feel the need to be close to her. Luckily for me, it's not unusual for me to slump down on the bed with her in moments like this, so that's exactly what I do, my body falling in line next to hers as my head drops to rest on her shoulder. To her, it will feel like nothing more than an ‘it's-good-to-be-home’ moment of contact. For me, it's so much more.

  Why the hell did I keep Rob a secret from her? Why? Sure, she can nag me at times, but she always has my back. Even when she knows I’m fucking up.

  “Goose…” She pauses and peers down at me. “You okay?”

  “Mmmhmm.” I sniff again.

  “Paris?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Think I’m just getting a cold or something,” I lie.

  “Bullshit. You just used the code word. Fine is not fine. What's up?” She closes the laptop, instantly breaking my focus from the screen. I deliberate being honest with her but the bottom line is, I’m too ashamed to admit what’s happened, and I’m scared she will fall out with me for lying. The last thing I need right now is another person being disappointed in me or an argument with the one person I so desperately need just to be normal.

  “Nothing. Honestly, I’m fine.” Swallowing the lump of deceit in my throat I know I need to say more. “It’s just, you know we were talking last week about staying in Leeds for the summer and getting jobs?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Well, I’ve changed my mind.” I gaze up at her through sad eyes, dropping my voice to a quiet whisper. “I want to go home, Mav. To Manchester.”

  I don’t want to hang around Leeds any longer than I have to, to be haunted by everything that has happened this semester. I need a break from the whole goddamn lot. Now the urge to run is kicking in, I know I need to tell her about seeing Mum the other day, too. There’s just so much we haven’t communicated between us lately. When did the gap between us start to crack? Once upon a time, she would have been the very first person I would have gone to.

  “I don’t get it. What’s made you change your mind?”

  Sitting back up straight, I brush a strand of hair behind my ear. “I just realised that I miss home. Despite everything, I think I need to give it another shot.”

  The sickness builds up inside me again. I hate keeping the truth from her and I know it won't be long before I need to make my escape.

  “Okay…” She hesitates.

  From the look she’s giving me, I know she’s dying to question me, but I don’t give her a chance. Climbing off the bed, I swipe a towel from the wardrobe and head back towards the door.

  “I’m going for a bath.”

  “Paris, are you sure this is what you want?”

  “I’m sure.” I look back with a sad smile at having to lie again. I have no clue what I want or what I’m doing, but I know the tears are about to flow.

  “So long as you are.” The way she mumbles so quietly, I know she doesn’t believe a word I’m saying. She knows me too well. Maybe when we’re back in Manchester and the dust has settled, I might pluck up enough courage to tell her the truth, but not now.

  As I make my way to the bathroom, which Mav and I share with two other girls, I try to hold it together. Quickly slamming the door shut, I turn the lock and begin to frantically turn the taps on in the bath and sink to drown out any noise before I fall into a heap against the toilet seat and curl my body into a ball of shame. Then I let go, and once I start, I can’t stop. The loud sobs that escape me tremble throughout my body and echo loudly in the white, airy room. I’m so desperate for someone to feel what I’m feeling now so they can understand why I’m so devastated. I’ve been lied to for months by the first man I have ever truly loved.

  I’m heartbroken.<
br />
  I’m alone.

  It feels like the whole world around me is continuing to spin, while my life has come to an abrupt halt and it doesn’t matter how many people tell me they will be there, they still have their lives to get on with. I have to face it that there are moments when I’m alone. This is one of them. While life beyond the bathroom door continues, I’m left holed up in here questioning every decision I’ve ever made. Was it all worth it? Am I truly happy with the path I've chosen? My thoughts consume my every brain cell, leaving me nothing but numb.

  It's in this dark moment that I realise just how much I miss from my childhood. I miss my dad. I wish he were here to give me one of his special hugs and tell me everything is going to be alright. But he’s not here and right now, it feels like nothing will ever be alright again.

  Eighteen

  12th June 2001

  I’ve come to the conclusion that whenever I’m due to sit exams, something catastrophic is probably going to happen in my life, just to throw in that added pressure of passing. The situation with Rob is a prime example. It floods my brain and I struggle to focus on much else. I manage to avoid my last two lectures with him, and it’s quite easy to come up with excuses to Izzy really… I’m hung over and, oh look, I’m hung over again. It’s nothing new to her, hearing that old chestnut and, despite the eye rolling I receive, it’s worth it not to have to see him. There’s just no way I can face seeing him again – not in the lecture theatre or around the campus. Not that it’s stopped the barrage of texts and voicemails I’ve had from him. All of them saying the same thing: I’m sorry. I miss you. Please speak to me, Paris. Blah, blah, blah. Even though I try to convince myself I despise him, I can't ignore the way my heart hurts like hell whenever I hear his voice down the end of the phone. Each time he speaks to me through voicemail, I have to force myself to put the barriers up. I have to let my stubborn streak play its part and protect me, or I'm afraid I will slip right back into his arms and only end up hurting myself even more.