by C. L. Stacey
I open my mouth and let out a slew of curses, doubling over to clutch the aching spot, and then my beer spills everywhere.
I hand my bottle over, but Ari doesn’t take it. “Don’t offer that shit to me, Caleb, I’m only sixteen!”
“Christ, Ari, I’m not asking you to drink it, hold it! It’s spilling everywhere!” The words come out whinier than I intended, but I don’t care. This shit hurts.
Ari snatches the bottle from my hand, eyeing me with an all too proud look on her face when she sees me limping over toward the empty spot.
“You are evil,” I state. “Evil spawn.” I take my beer back from her and sit. Ari scoots to the far side to avoid any physical contact with me. “And watch your mouth when you’re talking to me. It’s not nice for little girls to cuss.”
“Fuck you, Caleb. I’m not a child,” she deliberately defies my request for clean, teen-appropriate language.
“Hey!” I snap. “Mouth!”
Ari bites into her cheek and inhales deeply through her nose. “Leave me alone.” She releases her breath through a heavy sigh.
“I can’t walk down the stairs on this leg, I’ll break my handsome mug.”
A funny noise flies from her mouth. “You’re hideous. And annoying. You’re hideously annoying.”
I chuckle. “Come on.” I nudge her with my elbow in an attempt to lighten the mood, but she just glowers at me. “Let’s talk about what happened with your brother downstairs. Like a big, happy family.”
“I’m really not in the mood to talk to either of you right now.” She turns away from me. “Just leave me alone, that’s the last time I ask nicely.”
“Oh, was that you being nice?” I quip, earning another dirty look from her. “Fine. Don’t talk. You can listen.” I settle back, draping my arm along the back of the bench. She glares at me again. “I’m going to give you what the world likes to call a reality check, kid.”
“Don’t need one,” she stubbornly states. “And stop calling me that, or I’ll kick you again.”
I don’t give a tiny rat’s ass about what she thinks she needs. She needs to hear this, so I proceed, with caution. “The world is an ugly place, you have to watch out for who you let into yours. Men are filth. You need to learn to guard your heart, and most importantly, you need to protect your body. They will take what they want without blinking if you continue to be this naïve.”
She opens her mouth to speak, but I hold up my beer-holding hand, indicating that I am not yet finished. “That guy in there—he wasn’t here to make you his girlfriend. He was here to check you off a list.” I bite down hard, grinding my teeth together.
The thought of it makes me physically sick, but this is only a fraction of what Aryn must be feeling as her actual brother.
“Your brother and I were only protecting you. You should be grateful, because like you said, we will be graduating soon, and who the hell knows where life will take us after that. What then, Ari? Who will protect you then?”
A fat teardrop falls, running a wet line down Ari’s cheek, and I feel my heart swell with a strange sense of pride. Not for making her cry. I’m not that mean.
Words have never been my strong suit; others rarely ever came to me for advice. This marks my first ever attempt at offering another human something good, and I’m proud of myself when the result isn’t half-bad. Well, crying is never “good” but at least I know she’s listening, and that’s great, because I need her to hear me.
When I see another teardrop fall, I feel conflicted. Now it doesn’t feel so good. It feels like shit—I feel like shit. This is why I don’t converse with females for longer than five minutes, tops. I end up offending them somehow.
I let out a long, heavy sigh, scratching the back of my head when I grow aggravated with the situation. Maybe I’m making things worse. Why the fuck did Aryn send me out here?
“Making you cry was never my intention,” I say, making sure to come off sincere and apologetic. “But you need to promise to be careful. When the right person comes along, you will know, and your first time will be exactly what it should be.”
“Yea, and what’s that?
“Special. Because that is what you deserve.” I turn away, slowly rocking the bench as I stare off at nothing in particular.
“You had no right to do that tonight, Caleb. You’re not my dad, you’re not even my brother…”
Given how angry she currently is with me, I shouldn’t take offense, but I can’t help that I do. I peel my gaze from the view to face her, and she returns the attention with an unapologetic stare. “Sharing DNA isn’t what makes a family, Ari,” I firmly state. “Blood or no blood, I consider Aryn a brother, so that makes you my little sister—whether you like it or not. So, as your brother, I’m telling you to be careful. Don’t ever put yourself in dangerous situations like tonight. It was stupid, not to mention careless.”
“I wasn’t going to do anything!” she says in her defense.
“Maybe not, kid, but like I said, men don’t care. A few smooth lines to persuade you, and he could have had you pinned under him. Do you have any idea what that guy was thinking?” I don’t give her a chance to answer me before I cut back in. “No, you don’t… but I do.”
Her brows knit together, disbelieving. “How could you know something like that?”
“I’m a guy, and not a very good one, if I’m going to be totally honest.”
It sucks having to say, but I’m the prime example, and Ari needs to learn about what kind of guys are out there. She’s too trusting. If she were careful, she wouldn’t have let that boy into her home. She’s lucky Aryn and I was here tonight.
Frowning at my claim, Ari tilts her head. “Why the heck would you say that? You’re a good person,” she argues.
“Do you see me with any girlfriends, Ari? No, because after I get what I came for, I’m done. That’s really all that guys are about, we’re simple. Don’t buy into their lies when they try to tell you different.”
“My brother loves Kayli…” she counters.
“Do you know how many women it took for Aryn to find Kayli?” I argue back. Her eyes widen with surprise, and I shake my head. “No, forget I said that. We’re getting off topic.”
And then she laughs, making me feel slightly less shitty about what I’ve done to ruin her Friday night.
“Boys are gross.”
“Yes, they are,” I agree. “So be smart about your decisions. Please.”
Ari stares at me silently for a few beats, like she’s trying to find something else to argue, and I readily stare back. I’m always ready to make a counter remark. It’s one of my many things.
I don’t start fights I know I can’t win. This one, I fully intend to win. There’s no way in hell I’m letting her win this one.
She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “Whatever, Caleb. Fine.”
I grin triumphantly before relaxing against the back of the bench again. “You’ll find your guy, Ari. He’s out there, I promise.”
“Yea, well, he better be worth it…” she sighs, then adds, “and he better fucking love me.”
Again with the unnecessary profanity…
“Learn to filter that mouth of yours, and I’m sure he will.” I tilt my half-spilt bottle of beer into my mouth, neither of us saying anything more as we stare off straight ahead.
Present Day
I blink an eye open and slowly sit up, still groggy with sleep.
It wasn’t a nightmare, but waking up from this dream still leaves me uneasy, only reminding me of the relationship I destroyed.
Whether I’m comfortable with the idea of another appointment with Kellerman or not, I need to find a way to either leave Ari behind, or to find a way to somehow pick up where we left off.
This is my choice to make, and I choose to resuscitate what I thought was dead.
I need a second session.
When Bethany scheduled an emergency session with Kellerman, he agreed to accommodate me with very lit
tle hassle. He was pretty adamant about bringing me back for a second session, so I knew he wouldn’t keep me waiting long.
It’s been three days since our first attempt, and I’m feeling even more restless and unsettled than I did the first time I walked through his doors.
As soon as my ass touches the couch, I speak out with very little control. “Ariana Andrews.”
I decided in the parking lot that I’d try to be as cooperative as possible today. I need to sort through the issues I have with Ari more than I need to get to the bottom of these nightmares. Jackson said that I needed a plan; I can’t plan anything if I don’t know where to start. I’m hoping that Kellerman can help with this.
My outburst doesn’t seem to surprise him in the slightest. He readily follows up with a question. “Is she the reason for your emergency session?”
“Yes.”
“Is she the woman you refused to speak about before?”
The question feels like a ton of weight being dropped onto my chest. Constraining. I breathe in deeply through my nose and run both my hands roughly down my face. Personal questions make me uncomfortable, which usually makes Ari questions off-limits, but I came here to discuss her, so I force myself to suck it up.
Cooperate, the word flashes in my mind. I clear my throat and lean forward to rest my elbows against my thighs. “Yes.”
Satisfied with the progress we’re already making, Kellerman simply nods. “Who is Ariana Andrews?” It seems like an easy first question, but it still feels like being trapped underneath all that weight with nowhere else to go. “Why did you draw the line at discussing her during our first session?”
Constraining. I tug at the knot in my tie and lean back.
For the next few seconds, Kellerman watches as I try to make myself comfortable. I can only imagine looking as ridiculous as I felt, shifting from one position to another, like the way a dog circles around before settling in its perfect spot.
“She’s…” I begin, my brows pinch together as I try to come up with the right answer. But there isn’t one, is there? This is my session. I’m here to talk about me. Nothing I say here can actually be wrong. “She’s the only thing I’ve ever truly wanted,” I finish.
“How’d the two of you meet?”
“Through her brother, Aryn,” I answer, feeling the familiar twinge in my chest. “I met him at freshman orientation back when we were attending Yale; we were also on the football team together. He was my best friend.”
When I hear Kellerman’s pen scratch the surface of his notepad, I close my eyes and breathe in, trying not to think about the fact that Ari and Aryn’s names have officially been recorded into my session.
“I noticed you said was… what happened there?”
I don’t answer.
Sensing my discomfort, Kellerman takes a small step back. “Can you please describe to me your relationship with Ms. Andrews?”
Relationship. Where do I start? “A personal one, at first… and then a professional one…”
Kellerman holds his palm out to stop me. “Let’s take a small step back. To help me understand better, I would like for you to avoid direct answers. Take your time to walk me through them. Define personal.”
I bite against the inside of my lip and breathe through my nose. He wants to separate me from my comfort zone, encouraging me to dig through my unsorted bullshit. I didn’t demand this session assuming that it’ll be easy, but I never dreamt that it would be this difficult.
Cooperate.
“Aryn was a close friend of mine. Inevitably, I became close to the rest of the family.”
“Including Ms. Andrews,” Kellerman states the obvious, engaging me.
“Yes.”
“Go on.”
“The Andrews family was like a surrogate family… I guess for when mine were absent.” When Kellerman’s eyes reflect more questions, I provide him with an answer. “My parents traveled a lot for work, so whenever school let out for the holidays, I would usually stay with the Andrews family. They were always warm and welcoming. My parents and I were always grateful for the kindness they’d shown me.”
“They sound like very generous people. I see how they would have gained your loyalty,” he agrees.
“They are.” I nod. “Over time, Ariana became like a sister to me. I cared for her like a brother would.”
“So, what happened?”
“We did.”
“And when exactly did you two… happen?” He remains patient in spite of my vagueness.
“About three years ago. Shortly after she came to work for me.”
“Walk me through it, Mr. Carlisle.”
Where do I even begin? Where any story starts, I suppose.
The beginning.
Stab me in the eyes, we are getting absolutely nowhere.
Lena Durev, one of the designers for Runway Designs, is coming out with a new line next year in honor of her late grandfather. Like any other new brand, Denim Gene’s needs a face, one that will appeal to consumers. So, here I am, in New York, for casting calls.
This process is in no way as easy as it sounds. We aren’t just sitting here watching these women parade around simply for our amusement. Whoever it is needs to be perfect. Not only does she need to be beautiful, but her body should also fit the part.
We are nearing the end of our day, and after meeting with hundreds… no such luck.
‘We’ll be in touch,’ we told them. But Lena isn’t too happy, and neither am I.
The women are all beautiful, obviously, but I didn’t feel drawn to a single one of them. Usually, I’ll know as soon as I see the model, but I have yet to make that connection.
I reach for the small stack of profiles we’ve narrowed the search to, and I give each of them another glance, hoping that maybe one of the faces will trigger something this time.
Nothing. Not a single one.
“I’m not connecting with any of these women. Have you given thought to any of the models you’ve worked with previously?” I offer.
Lena shakes her head. “I want someone new, a fresh face.”
I give a knowing nod. Lena’s vision for this line is her own, and anything anyone else suggests is just noise, so I don’t bother arguing her decision to keep looking. “Is it just me, or are all these women starting to sort of just blend together?”
Lena snickers. “Well, it’s usually just you… but I agree with you this time.” She drops the heavy stack from her hands to apply pressure against her temples. “So far, the day’s been a huge fucking waste. If the next girl isn’t better than basic I’m going to shoot my tits off.”
Laughing at my friend’s peculiar sense of humor, I call out, “Next!” as I pull the next model’s file.
“Now, that’s more like it,” Lena whispers to me.
The relief and excitement in her tone is unmistakable, prompting me to look up.
Then I feel it, the connection… with a very familiar face, and an involuntary grin flashes across my face. “Oh, what the hell?” I blurt.
Meeting new people and making new friends is a huge part of growing up, but only a few make a difference in your life. One family in particular made a mark in mine, but we naturally grew apart when life set us down separate paths.
In my case, the path I’d taken landed me in Los Angeles, placing me on the other side of the map—far, far away from the Andrews family. Keeping in touch with anyone who isn’t part of this hectic life I live is damn near impossible. It’s the way of life, but drifting from that family is one of the very few regrets I have.
Which is why I’m grinning like an idiot right now.
The last person I expected to see just rolled back into my life. I’m a bit blindsided, to say the least. I know she’s done some modeling as a young girl, but never did I ever expect to see her here today.
Exposing a row of pearly whites, Ari flashes me a familiar smile. “Hey, Caleb.”
Lena and Liz, my casting director, exchange glances, their eyes f
lashing from Ariana to me. “You two know each other?” Lena asks first.
“Yes. We go way back,” Ari answers with another sweet smile.
Once I get past the initial shock, I get to my feet to give her a hug. “Jesus, kid, how the hell have you been?” I squeeze her tight.
“I’ve been good, stranger. How are you?”
“Good, I’m fine.” I pull back. “You’re blonder now, I almost didn’t recognize you!”
“Yea,” she giggles. “Thought it might make me look a little older.”
“I don’t know about older, but it looks nice,” I compliment. “And you’re modeling again?”
Ari shrugs with a more nervous smile. “Trying.”
“Since when?”
“Just recently.”
I cross my arms over my chest and lean back against the table my team is still seated behind. “That’s great! What agency are you with?”
“Well… I was hoping to talk to you about that before I left here today.”
I point a finger into my chest. “You want me to represent you?”
“Your agency,” she laughs. “It doesn’t have to be you.”
As Ari stated just moments ago, we go way back. It will feel wrong to let someone else take care of her when I am fully capable of doing it myself.
“No, I’ll do it.”
Satisfied with my offer, her grin grows wider. “Yea?”
“Yes, of course I will.”
“Um, hello?”
We both turn our attention to Lena, who is sitting there with her hands in the air by her head.
“What’s up, Lena?” I ask.
“Are we going to take a look at her or not?” Lena snaps, eager and impatient to know more about Ari.
“Right, shit, my bad.” I walk back around the table, then I motion for Ari to stand in front of the backdrop before I take my seat.
When Ari turns to walk over to the mark, Lena leans into my space. “She’s stupid hot.”
The statement makes me laugh. I’ve never thought of Ari in that way, but Lena isn’t completely off base. Ari is beautiful. She always has been. But I don’t know about hot. There is a difference.
