by Alex Rosa
“Blake, hellooo!” she says, trying to get my attention, “We’re actually going to a party, rather than doing a stupid interview. Can we just let loose for one goddamn night? You owe me drinks! You owe me a good time! You promised. This is supposed to be fun. You’re about to hit it big. Why can’t we finally celebrate?”
I clench my jaw, and it aches when I do it, sore from doing it all morning, but my shoulders vibrate with tension, eager for a release the idea gives. I want to submit to her words. I’m exhausted from the stress. Maybe she’s right. This is supposed to be fun. Just because my girlfriend is on the other side of the country doesn’t mean I have to hate my existence here.
There’s another knock, and then the sound of the door opening to my hotel room, and I immediately regret giving Josh a key to my room as he steps inside.
“Hey bro, I . . .”
He appears in the hallway, his eyes falling onto Kathryn’s hands still on my tie before colliding angrily with mine. She drops her hands and takes a step back.
“Hey, Josh,” she says sweetly, seemingly oblivious to the suspicion building in his eyes, but I know better. She thinks it’s funny. She thinks this is a game. For her, it’s fun.
I clear my throat and shake my head, admonishing him. “Don’t even start, dude.”
He raises a brow, and is on the verge of responding, but I speak before he does. “Have you talked to Skyler today?”
He seems to relax, his shoulders dropping slightly. “Yeah, actually. I called her to see how school was going, and if she’s heard back from any med schools yet.”
My stomach plummets. Why hadn’t I thought to ask? Also, how does Josh make time to call her and I can’t seem to find a free moment between the constant interviews and radio segments? I’m jealous and frustrated at once, causing my shoulders to nearly buckle with the heavy tension.
I nod, letting out a remorseful sigh. “How is she?”
“She really only wanted to ask how you were,” he says while rolling his eyes.
It’s a relief to hear, and the want to be near her triples. “Why didn’t she call me?”
He shrugs. “She knows you’re busy. She doesn’t want to seem like a needy girlfriend, so she takes her neediness out on her dear brother.”
I had almost forgotten Kathryn was here until I hear her own high-pitched chirp of a chuff from the kitchen.
I ignore it. “Has she heard back from schools then?”
“She told me she didn’t want to talk about it. She was sort of closed off. She’s in the middle of studying for her midterms, so she’s stressed. It’s her last semester and all. I know her apps depend a lot on her final grades.”
My chest constricts, pushing the air out of my lungs. “It’s her last semester?”
I hate the way Josh’s brows pucker together as he replies, “You didn’t know that?”
“I mean, I knew she was almost done with school, but I assumed people graduated in the spring.”
Josh, obviously annoyed at my ignorance, turns away to face the mirrored closet, adjusting his olive-green tie. “She’s a smart girl and is graduating a semester early. She was a little late on the med school apps. Her plan is to start next fall, I think.”
I feel like I’m going to puke. Why have I only ever talked about myself around her? Every time we’re together, there’s never enough time to delve into the details. I pull in a leveling breath.
“Hmm” is all I can manage.
Skyler is always so selfless. I’m angry at myself for not asking more, but why wouldn’t she tell me all about her collegiate goals and schedules? Her future is just as important as mine. It has me feeling guilty that I’ve been pushing her to do something like modeling. Josh doesn’t even know that yet.
Suddenly, alcohol sounds very appealing as my head spins.
“Med school? Who wants to be in school until they’re thirty-five?” Kathryn echoes ignorantly from the kitchen.
Josh laughs as he walks away without glancing back at me. He’s annoyed. He thinks Skyler deserves better, and I keep proving his point. Fuck-dammit.
I want to punch a wall, or his face, but instead I grab for the sleeve of his blazer before he makes it to the kitchen.
He stares at my hand before bringing his all-too-familiar stark blue eyes to mine.
“Dude, don’t be like that. I’m in love with your sister. I’m just a bit overwhelmed.”
“You don’t have to prove anything to me, Blake.” I reflexively want to argue, but I choose the more practical route and I watch him continue, “I only want what’s best for her, so just get with the program. Obviously, if anyone understands that you have a lot going on, it’s going to be me. Just keep Skyler’s needs in perspective, that’s all I ask—oh, and don’t be an asshole.”
Instead of reacting to his name-calling, I’m too caught up in picturing Skye bent over her textbooks, nibbling on her bottom lip, twirling a midnight curl between her fingertips before lifting her eyes to shoot me that I-want-you-right-now-but-just-give-me-a-second look she mastered when I’d join her at the coffee shop, or in the library before all of . . . this.
Getting caught up in the thought, I nod my agreement. Josh gifts me with a confident smile as he continues. “I don’t want to give you a hard time about this constantly. I’m just going to trust you to do the right thing, personally and professionally, all right?” Before I can respond, because his question is obviously rhetorical, he looks at his watch as he says, “Vanessa should be here any minute.”
I follow him into the kitchen. Kathryn has helped herself to pouring three shots of tequila, but I’m too distracted by his words.
“Vanessa?” I question with a look of shock. “Holy shit, she came to NYC for you? Getting serious, then?”
Josh’s grin is fucking jealousy-inducing. What I would give for Skyler to come with me on these PR trips, but with school, there’s no way she could. I’d feel guilty for distracting her more than I already do.
Josh laughs, “I guess. She’s a trip. She actually asked if she could come. I didn’t think to ask her, but I can’t seem to say no to that girl. She flew in today and will be flying with us back home.”
“Are we drinking or what?” Kathryn interrupts. “I’m so sick of you boys moping around every time we have to go out. Can we please have some fun? I need fun, guys. Real fun. Blake and I finish filming soon, and we haven’t let loose, and we’re actually going to a party. Just this once? Pleeeasseeee,” she whines.
The knot in my shoulders pulses, begging me to relax, as if my body is telling me to stop beating myself up, and that things will eventually level out.
Josh’s crooked smile in approval is my green light, and I remember he’s my best friend as we both grab for the shots, downing them in unison as Kathryn squeals, “Hey! Wait for me!”
We chuckle as we slam the shot glasses back onto the counter, hissing out the tequila fumes. Josh taps the counter with two fingers to signal more. “Let’s have fun, just don’t make fools of yourselves, or it’s all of our asses.”
She refills our shot glasses as we all nod our agreement.
SKYLER
When I leave the stuffy college library, the fresh oxygen rejuvenates my frazzled nerves. I’ve been studying all day, and it’s been weighing heavy on me lately, just like the unopened med-school envelopes in my backpack. They feel like bricks.
School hasn’t been the same, and I find myself counting down the days until I have a semester off.
With Blake busy with filming, and Josh trailblazing forward to keep Blake’s career in line, it’s been a lonely semester so far. I submitted my graduation application this morning and ordered my gown, but when the counselor asked me where I was headed, I had no reply.
I want Blake and me to choose a school together. I want us to see what would work best. But the envelopes that have arrived are from my o
ut-of-state backups. Nothing yet from UCLA, or even UCSD. I don’t need to be farther away from Blake. Life already doesn’t allow us any time together.
I know this is what I signed up for, but when you pile the lack of time on top of midterms and graduation, the weight itself can feel menacing and foreboding. I don’t know which way is up or down, or forward or backward, when it comes to my future.
The vision of my future always felt so crisp and in focus, right now it’s blurry and filled with a heavy fog.
I think of the mechanics of Gio’s camera as it snaps away when he’s working. The twist of the lens, focusing and refocusing, and I wish I had that much mechanical control on my life.
I pull out my cell phone. I don’t want to go to my empty house. There’s nothing there for me except more studying and silence. Tucker is too busy with his new boyfriend, and I can’t bear the thought of interrupting Blake.
I talked to Josh this morning, and he explained that he and Blake have promotional stuff going on into the night. I figured Blake would call me when he could, and Josh tried reassuring me that things are fine, so I’m trying not to worry about it.
Normally, I would’ve been reluctant to be so calm, but knowing my brother is there at my boyfriend’s side comes with its remedying benefits to my nerves.
I heave in a breath, and it ends in a grumble when I remember Vanessa texting me her excitement about flying out to meet Josh in New York City. I was sitting in the library trying to focus on my physics textbook, but found myself wanting to fling it across the room in bright green envy when she told me she was at the airport. I don’t have the luxury to jump planes to fancy events to see my boyfriend. Not with entering the home stretch of the ending of school.
This thought has me nearly sprinting off the campus grounds and ducking away into the nearest side street lined with shops and cafés.
I walked to school today, deciding that the grueling amount of miles would do me good, and that I could use the fresh air, but I’m considering the bus to take me home. I wish I had taken my damn car. I don’t have much patience for the day anymore.
I glance back at my phone, wondering what one infamous photographer might be doing on a Friday night.
Probably something glamorous and fantastic.
I grit my teeth.
In a panic, and with misplaced confidence from not wanting to be alone, I decide to try my luck, thinking I don’t have much to lose.
I dial Gio’s number. Blake probably wouldn’t approve, but I don’t know where to turn. I’m knotted up by not telling Blake about Jason and Gio before, but right now, I just need somebody. Anybody. I refuse to be blamed for that. I’m exhausted with being alone.
Within three rings I’m smiling when I hear his smug Italian accent.
“Buonasera, bella. To what do I owe the pleasure of this phone call?”
“Am I allowed to call you to hang out, or are you too famous? This world is sorta new to me, and I can’t tell if we’re really friends or not.”
His baritone chuckles come through the phone, and I’m relieved he finds me funny.
My friends are all preoccupied, and my boyfriend is across the country. Right now, with those bricks in my backpack, I could use a friend, and Gio has become one, whether I like to admit it or not.
“Where are you?” he asks instead of answering my question.
“Just now leaving school. I don’t have my car with me, but I can head home and get it. Are you busy?”
He hums, “Is it embarrassing to admit that this, how did you say? This famous photographer has no plans tonight.”
I grin even wider. “Terribly embarrassing. Aren’t you supposed be attending parties and bedding models?”
He laughs again. “I’m at a café on Sunset. I’ll come meet you.”
I shake my head, even though he can’t see me. “Don’t, I’ll just cab it to you.”
“It’s oka—”
“Gio, just let me get a cab.”
He grumbles, but it’s still just as charming as his accent. “We can walk back to my place from here, if that’s okay with you, bella. Pizza? Movie? What’s your poison?”
I smile, trying to do the impossible in LA—hail a cab. “‘What’s your poison?’” I repeat back to him, “Sounds funny coming from you. How about yes to all of the above, but I can’t stay out too late.”
“Buono, me either. I have a flight in the morning, but could use the company. Thanks for calling.”
There’s a sad resolve that I’ve never heard in his voice before, but I don’t want to address it over the phone. “Text me the address, and I’ll see you in twenty.”
***
When I step out of the cab to see Gio on the corner managing to look devastatingly sharp in a tight, dark pair of jeans and an olive-green cotton shirt that buttons down a few inches from the collar, I worry that even for an impromptu hangout that my sweater, leggings, and boots combo is too casual.
His perfectly trimmed scruff that’s shaved in a dramatic line over his sculpted cheekbones looks as fashionable as the photographs he takes. The only thing almost out of place is his huge camera hanging from his neck. His hands are stuffed into his jeans pockets as he watches me.
I shake my head as I approach him. “Do you ever leave your house without that thing?” I ask, pointing to his camera.
He reveals a crooked smile. “What kind of artist would I be if I didn’t keep paintbrushes with me everywhere I go?”
I want to tell him artists don’t do that, but I let him have the metaphor.
The swanky high street that eventually branches off to his fashionable home suits him in a way that has me feeling foolish and out of my league as I sling my backpack over my shoulder.
He strides toward home, and I have to move quickly to keep up with the long stretch of his legs.
“So, how was school, bella?”
It feels funny for him to ask me about something so mundane in comparison to the world he’s opened my eyes to.
I shrug, allowing my eyes to get lost in the city scenery in front of us instead of Gio’s statuesque lines. “Fine.”
“Just fine?” he asks.
“Yeah, this semester has kind of sucked. It’s just very different than I imagined it would be.”
Those words are the understatement of the century. Months ago I was getting over my abusive relationship, dropped friends and got new ones, started a new job, and thought I would have Rich by my side to help me scholastically. This new world feels bizarre, uncharted, and school is a lonely road traveled.
Click. Click. Click.
I yank my stare away from the passing cars and back to Gio, but his face is blocked by his camera, which is going off in rapid succession.
Click. Click. Click.
“GIO!”
His deep chuckle erupts from behind the camera, and I can’t help but start laughing with him while trying to cover my face.
Click. Click.
“Why do you like tormenting me so much? I’ve been in your presence ten minutes, and you’re already testing my patience.”
He lets the camera fall to his chest, baring his teeth in a startlingly radiant grin. “Funny, bella. People all around the word beg me to take their photos, but yet, when I take yours, I get a tongue-lashing.”
The words tongue-lashing make me blush, and he tries reaching for his camera before I shout, “Ah-ah! Don’t you dare!”
He nods his reluctant agreement, letting go of his camera as we round the corner to his street.
“I can’t wait for you to see the photos I took of you,” he says as we walk, our shoulders nearly touching as we find a rhythm in our strides together.
“Can I see them now?” I ask, more curious than he would ever begin to realize.
He smiles. “They aren’t ready yet, but you will. In a way, you ne
ed to understand it’s hard to be around you. You’re too fascinating for your own good, and you don’t know it.”
His words remind me of Blake, and I miss him instantly.
I don’t know how I get so daydreamy or distracted around Gio, but his hum is what brings me back to his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
I shrug as we approach his door. “I just miss Blake. He calls me fascinating, too. You’re both so ridiculous.”
“So, not all men are fools, then?” he replies, and I don’t quite understand his meaning as he opens his front door.
“You’re studying to be a doctor, no?” he asks as we walk inside.
Feeling the sudden weight of my backpack at his words, I slip it off my shoulder and lay it on the floor next to the door.
I watch him set his camera on a hallway table before moving on.
“Yep,” I reply, swiftly making my way to his living room.
I can feel his eyes heavily on me from behind before I plop down on his couch. “What, Gio?” I ask when I see his apprehensive stare.
“Doesn’t going to school make you happy?”
“It did,” I spit out, and my hands fling themselves to my burning cheeks at the confession. I try shaking my head clear of it. “It’s complicated now.”
Gio’s grin has a way of making me feel like it turns the earth’s axis upside down. “You like it when I take pictures of you.”
It’s not a question. He says it like a fact. My cheeks continue to burn.
“If you can’t admit it to me, then who else can you tell?” he asks. Instead of joining me on the couch he leans against the frame of the entryway to the room, his arms crossed over his broad chest and his electric stare hardening. He’s scolding me, and it causes a strange sensation of nerves to bubble in my gut.
“I don’t know,” I exclaim while flinging back against the couch, wishing the cushions would sink and swallow me whole.
“What’s wrong with liking it?”
He takes a step forward, and the whole room feels like it expands to fit his presence.
“I told you, it’s complicated. I’ve been going to school for four years with this exact goal in sight of being a doctor. I worked too hard to have that change.”
