by N. K. Smith
He stands up and swiftly pulls me into a hug. With his lips pressed against the top of my head, he says, “This has nothing to do with the nomination, and you know it.” When he’s quiet for a moment, I think he might be finished, but just as I try to pull out of the embrace, he says, “It’s okay to need help, Adra. It’s okay to—”
I snake my hands between us and lay them flat against his chest. I try to pull away, but he is too strong.
“Just stop. Let me hold you, I—”
“I don’t need to be held.”
“Yes, you do. You just never want to admit it, and now that we’re on the same page about being together, I plan on holding you for a while, so just relax.”
It’s hard to do what he’s asking, but after a minute of tense muscles and trying with all of my might not to let my hard shell be softened by his arms and body, I give up. As I breathe out, it’s as if I can feel my body merging into his, folding into him.
Chapter 44
Life is funny. Just when you think there’s nothing to live for, the universe surprises you and makes all of your deep secrets a reality.
Peter!
Is there anything more to type than that?
But here is the truth of it. If I was talking inside of writing, it would be in a whisper. I know no one but me reads this, but it’s difficult to put down in words anyway. Here it is—even though I feel content sometimes, especially now that Peter’s with me the way I’ve wanted him to be with me, there is something quiet, yet dangerous lingering over me, saturating my whole body and mind. It’s apathy and numbness and depression. I think my brain doesn’t work right anymore, but I don’t want to tell anyone because then it’ll become too much.
Sometimes, even when I’m lying in his arms and happy to be there, I think about getting high and then all of the sudden I realize that the desire to be high is the only thing that I feel anymore. Everything else is dull. Contentment is nothing more than muted emotions and sensations.
***
As I lie out by my pool, letting the vitamin D soak in, I see a helicopter circle above and know my bikini-clad body will be broadcast across the world in a matter of moments. But I don’t cover up or retreat inside.
It is warm for early February. With a temperature in the mid-eighties, I’d be stupid to go back inside because of aerial shutterbugs. The world has seen my body before, and although that doesn’t stop the paparazzi from wanting more images, it does make me a bit empty to the whole thing.
I’m trying to fight against the numb feeling I have about everything. Even though I finally have Peter, and I’ll be honest with myself, I didn’t even have to work hard to get him, there are times I still feel emotionless. Or if there are emotions present within me, they all are trumped by one: Unhappiness.
I mean, I understand that I have more than most people. I have money, I have fame, I have friends, I have a career that promises even more money and fame, I have Peter.
But still, the feeling remains. I am beginning to think something is wrong with me.
“You going to stay out here all day?”
I bring my hand up to block the sun and see Peter looking down at me.
“I’ve been back for over an hour. You haven’t moved.”
“Why didn’t you come out to get me?”
He sits down on the edge of my chair. “Because sometimes I worry about invading your space.”
“It’s a big outdoors, you know,” I say as I sit up.
“Not this space,” he says while motioning to the air around him. “This one.” Peter taps his finger to my forehead. “You’ve always been—”
“How was the shoot today?”
Peter lets me change the topic, and he takes my hands and hoists me up as he tells me his day was fine. I let him lead me into the chilly, air-conditioned house. A quick glance at the clock tells me I’ve been outside almost all day. Peter didn’t mention me looking sunburnt, so I hope I have a nice tan instead. I need to look perfect on the red carpet because I know Liliana will look flawless.
When I’m at the dining room table, a place I rarely ever eat, I sit down like it’s automatic. Peter starts bringing in food and serving me. The smell of it makes my stomach tighten. It looks good, and it smells good, but my instant reaction is one of disgust. I’d prefer just a piece of toast.
After a while, Peter sits down, looking very much like a modern gentleman in his jeans and knit shirt. I’m sitting here in my bikini, staring at food that repulses me for some reason, thinking about how to best one of my friends at the Oscars.
“There’s something wrong with me,” I whisper.
“What?”
I give him a smile. “Nothing.”
Peter nods to my plate. “Not hungry?”
“Not really. Lounging by the pool doesn’t work up an appetite. I need to call Roman and start training again.”
Satisfied with my answer, Peter goes back to eating. I sigh, pick up my fork and take the smallest bite of the potatoes I can manage.
“Have you looked at any scripts lately? Sue says there’s one on her desk right now you’d be perfect for. You want me to have her send it to Meg?”
I don’t really care about figuring out my next career move, but Peter is waiting for an answer. “Sure.”
“If you get the role, there’s a part in there for me. It’d be like old times.”
“Yeah.”
I look up at the clang of his fork against the plate. Peter folds his hands together in front of his mouth as he stares at me.
“What?” I ask, although I fear hearing his thoughts.
“I’m starting to worry about you, Adra. No, scratch that, I am worried about you.”
The grin I try to push onto my lips fails. “I’m fine.”
Peter unlaces his fingers and reaches a hand out to touch me. He takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. That’s his thing. He tries to convey support and affection via a hand squeeze. I know he means well, and it’s his version of a loving gesture, but it just makes me feel flat. Even flatter than I have been feeling.
I can’t even manage a squeeze back. I mean, I understand that he loves me. I can interpret his actions and words into adoration, but I’m stunted. Something is holding me back from actually feeling those things instead of just being aware of them.
“Why haven’t we had sex yet?” I ask. I have no idea where the question came from, and from the looks of it, neither does Peter.
His cheeks redden just a little as he draws his brows together, but he never takes his eyes off me and never lets go of my hand. “I figured when the time was right, it would happen.”
What kind of guy is he? When the time is right? “Do you think of me as asexual?”
“What?” His question is a mixture of insulted incredulity and comic confusion.
“I mean, do you, you know, love me or whatever, but you’re not attracted to me?”
“That’s ridiculous. You’re beautiful and sexy, and I definitely want to have sex with you when the time is right.”
He’s not being honest. I pull my hand away, place both in my lap, and stare down at them. “You think I’m frail, don’t you? Like I can’t handle—”
“No. I think you’re the strongest person I know, but you can’t see it, and you don’t let yourself be it. But that has nothing to do with sex. I just got out of a relationship and you—”
I lock my eyes on his again. “You think I’m a slut? That because of what I did with Jude, I’m lesser than Shyla? That because I take my clothes off on film, I—”
“What are you talking about?” His eyes are wide and his mouth hangs open. “I don’t give a shit if the whole world has seen you inside or out. That has no bearing on anything I feel for you. And I don’t know what the hell you did with Jude, but if you’re worried about it making me think badly of you, I don’t know that I want to know.”
Images of the time I spent with Jude cycle through my mind. I don’t feel like I did anything wrong by being overtly s
exual even if it was just a mask. Even if it was dirty, I had a right to explore it. We were both free to discover each other. But I’m just not sure how I feel about letting myself give up control like that. I don’t understand why I thought it was sexy to be that woman who lets her man—no. I own that experience. I liked being handled like that; like I was unbreakable. I liked letting him take over, and I enjoyed the loss of control.
“I really think you should start talking to someone, Adra.”
The sincerity of Peter’s expression and voice force me to feel something. I don’t know what exactly, but it’s something. And it’s better than the nothing I’ve felt all day. I rub my eyes with the heels of my hands. “I’m talking to you, Peter.”
“Yeah, but I’m not—”
“I’ll be okay. I’ll work all this stuff out eventually. I just . . .” I let out a long breath and pick up my fork again. “I just . . . this has been a tough year, you know? With Elsie dying and the Danny thing.”
“Yeah, I get that, but I think there’s more, Adra. You are—”
It’s time to give him another get of out jail free card. “You don’t have to be with me, you know. That’s a choice you—”
“A choice I made, thank you. I know. I’m—”
“I’m sure you want to fix me, but—”
“Jesus, Adra.” It’s not quite exasperation in his voice, but it’s something similar. He pushes the hair off his forehead. “Why can’t you just let me be here? Why can’t you accept that I care about you?”
I intentionally shovel a forkful of food into my mouth as I process his question. It’s not that I can’t accept that he cares about me; it’s that I don’t think he should.
Chapter 45
I’m not sure if Peter is trying to show me that finds me attractive and more than just an asexual friend like I suggested a few days ago, or if he’s speeding up the intimacy now that he knows I want it. Either way, we’re entering into an intensified relationship with more caution that I’ve ever experienced before.
Tonight is progressing beyond what we’ve done in the past few days. He’s had a plan all day, but I didn’t exactly know about it until I walked into my bedroom and saw it was lit up by candles of all sizes. No other light exists in this room, beyond those candles and the glow of Peter’s beautiful and uncontainable internal light.
He has already removed my shirt. It’s crumpled up on the floor next to his. Peter buries his face in the crook of my neck and tastes my skin. His heavy body presses me down against the mattress. It feels good, like he is locking my soul into my body, helping me stay present and aware for what’s to come.
But Peter takes his time and doesn’t touch the parts of me I want him to, so I move my hands between us and unbuckle his belt, pull it from the loops and toss it from the bed. I don’t give him any time to pull away and challenge my forwardness; I unzip his pants and push them down as far as they’ll go.
Now he has all the confirmation he needs that I want this to go much further than simple kissing and light touching. We are both free from other people, and I want this. I need it. His nearness, his touch, his body close to mine are the only things that have been able to penetrate the chilling numbness I’ve lived with for more days than I can count.
“Take these off,” I say in a quiet voice, tugging his pants for emphasis.
Peter complies. He moves off me but only long enough to push them down to his knees. He kicks them off the rest of the way when his chest is pressed against mine again. Running two fingers under the elastic of his boxers, I whisper, “You should have taken these off, too.”
He rises up on his arms and looks down at me. “You want this to go that far?”
“Why wouldn’t I? Why wouldn’t you? You went to all the trouble of putting these candles o—”
He crushes my words with a kiss, and something tickles within me. Knowing that he has just wanted verification that this is what I want makes my whole being pulse faster.
Peter doesn’t make a move to remove his boxers. “What?” I ask.
“I’m a little nervous.”
I nearly laugh at how ridiculous it is. “We’ve known each other for—”
“That’s why I’m nervous. It’s not like you’re some girl I may never see again, or even a woman I’ve just met and want to have a relationship with. You’re Adra Willows, my best friend, and this isn’t something that can be undone, you know? If—”
“You seriously broke up with your girlfriend without realizing that having a relationship with me will involve sex which will—”
“Change our relationship?” he finishes for me. “Yes. Of course, I’ve thought about it. I’ve thought about this more than I’m comfortable admitting, but now that it’s here, I don’t want to jeopardize—”
“Our friendship,” I say with a sigh. “It won’t. I mean, lots of friends take this step. And it’s not just a hook-up, right? If this was a hook-up things will get awkward afterward, but that’s not what this is, right? We’re progressing our relationship.” I snap the elastic at his waist. “So take these off.”
Peter hesitates, and rather than think about the fact that he might be having second thoughts about doing this or that he really might not see me as a sexual being, I push him away. He flips over, lets out a breath, and runs both hands through his hair.
Then, I roll over and straddle him. The way his eyes widen and his mouth opens tells me he’s surprised. He thought the encounter was over. He brings his hands to my thighs and trails them up and down. My flouncy skirt is bunched up at my waist and only a scrap of lace covers the spot I want him to touch.
I reach around and unhook my bra, then pull it away and toss it to the floor. There is no hesitation this time on Peter’s part. He brings his hands up to cup my breasts. I scoot back so I’m no longer sitting on his stomach. His hips are nestled between my legs. I want him to feel every movement I make in reaction to his hands on my flesh.
His breathing speeds up, but it’s not until a moan escapes him that I know I’ve gotten to him.
All of the sudden, he lifts me off. He stands up. I bite my lip, not wanting to speak. He’ll either leave and that’ll be the end of it, or he won’t. I’ll either go back to my aching numbness or he’ll give me what I crave.
He hooks his thumbs under the elastic of his boxers and pulls them down. My body floods with heat and lust. Peter reaches for me, and when we are one hundred percent exposed to each other, Peter stands there and takes a lengthy look at my naked body. Even though it has already been featured prominently in several films which I know he has seen, he’s taking his time studying me. But maybe he’s giving me the opportunity to see his body, which has always been hidden to me.
He is perfect in every way. His torso is muscled and leads down to his hips that are attached to very strong legs.
I could look at him all day, but instead I change my position slightly, and this gets him to move again. He reaches for his discarded jeans and shoves a hand inside a pocket. When he produces a condom, my mind takes over, telling me he wants the condom because he thinks I’m dirty and doesn’t know where I’ve been or who I’ve allowed to use me.
I take a deep breath and unleash the portion of my mind that can fight outrageous and baseless thoughts such as those. He’s using a condom because he’s responsible. Peter has always been responsible, and there’s no way either of us are ready to give up our young adult lives to a child.
I look away, trying to reassure myself, but when he climbs back on the bed, I turn back to see him kneeling in front of me. “Are you sure?”
I answer by lifting my hips and moving closer to him. This is exactly what I want; what I need. When we come together, my mind quiets and the moment seems infinite
As much as I want to remain present, as much as I want to experience every minute detail of this connection, I cannot help being sucked in by pure sensation. Everything fades away except for the pleasure being created by Peter’s body and my own. It is radian
t like the sun breaking through the dark of night. It is loud like the start of a symphony in an empty hall. It is triumphant, like the feeling I get when someone compliments my work on a film.
It is everything I need it to be.
Peter is kind and warm, giving and adoring. I try to be the same, but, I am lost within it all.
At the end, when I have given myself to the nearly spiritual experience over and over again, and Peter is sated and fatigued, I lie in his arms, surrounded by the bliss of his love for me and mine for him.
And for a moment, everything is perfect.
Chapter 46
The dull numbness left for a little bit after Peter and I made love (or did we just have sex?). We’ve only done it once, and I’m not sure what that means. I’m not sure if it’s normal to not have sex all the time or if I’m abnormal for thinking that we should.
Anyway, the awards are tomorrow, and I wish I was more excited about them. I’m anxious, but that’s not the same as excitement. There’s so much to do and I’m almost certain that there’s no real reason to be doing anything at all. The win won’t be mine, but the show must go on, and I have to at least act like I might win.
***
Manicure. Pedicure. Hair. Makeup. Dress. Jewelry.
Getting ready for the biggest Hollywood event of the year takes all day, and it takes all of the energy out of me. Gardiner worked his magic with this dress. He’s managed to make me look curvy without going overboard and making me look pudgy.
Peter left for his place early this morning, and I’m thankful for the peace. Sometimes he stares at me when he thinks I’m not looking. It’s not so much creepy as it is uncomfortable. Even though I’m in the business of being evaluated, I don’t particularly like being sized up in my own home by someone who loves me. While his scrutiny is warranted, I still hate it, so it’s a relief to have some time alone.
Not that he’s sizing me up for anything sexist or misogynistic. I think it’s more an evaluation of my mental status, which is probably warranted. I don’t feel right, but I can’t figure out what to do about it. I don’t know how I’m going to handle losing to Liliana again tonight. At least Peter will be there, so that might help.
