That’s the thing he doesn’t get about girls and dating. If he’s having sex with them and taking them out, they’re in a relationship unless both parties agree they’re not. And I’m positive no such this is totally casual agreement exists between them. If one had, she wouldn’t have turned Shrek-green and made a spectacle of herself tonight.
“I told her I wasn’t looking for anything serious,” he says tersely.
“Well what you’re looking for, and what you actually get are usually two different things.” This I say from the heart because that’s the story of my life.
“Are you defending her?” he asks in disbelief.
I roll my eyes. “Do I look crazy? Of course I’m not. I’m just saying you need to be careful about the message you’re putting out. Remember actions speak louder than words.”
When he angles his head and his gaze narrows in suspicion, I immediately want to snatch back my words. Did I reveal too much? Does he suspect I’m talking about myself? God, I hope not.
“Okay, what’s this really about? I get that you’re embarrassed—”
I scoot away from him, reestablishing my personal space. “You think this is just about me being embarrassed? What your girlfriend did almost singlehandedly undid everything I’ve worked on the last three months.”
Bewildered, he shakes his head. “What?”
“Do you know how long it took for me to convince Colin that there’s nothing going on between us? And then your girlfriend comes along and—”
“For God’s sake, she’s not my girlfriend. We’re nothing now,” he snaps impatiently.
“You guys broke up?” As soon as the question’s out, I can hear the hopeful note in my voice. I pray to God Troy didn’t.
He treats me to another incredulous stare. “Seriously, April? Do you honestly think I’d want to have anything to do with her after what just happened? Anyway, our breakup was mutual. She doesn’t want to have anything to do with me either.”
I huff a laugh. “That’s what she’s saying now. You wait.”
“Forget her,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “So Johnson thinks there’s something going on between us?”
I sigh and flop back into the couch. After Troy left, I’d have been blind not to see the displeasure and question in Colin’s eyes. I’d immediately reassured him that she was lying. It’d taken a bit—a good half hour of reassurances—before he’d eventually relented and said he believed me. But he has doubts. Ones he won’t admit to in the face of my insistence, but I know they’re swirling around in the back of his mind.
Despite my many attempts to get the date back on track, dinner had been quiet with a sprinkling of disjointed conversation. Halfway through, I gave up completely. Even our goodnight kiss had been a lukewarm affair.
“He thinks it’s weird that we’re best friends and that we’re not—you know…”
A faint smile curves his mouth. “Having sex?”
“So you think this is funny?” He’d better not.
My accusation only seems to make his smile wobble, as if he’s trying hard not to. “No. No. But why do you think Mel went off like she did?”
“She thinks we’re screwing. Yeah, that part I got.”
“No. I think she actually believed me when I said we weren’t doing anything. It’s when she asked me if we’d ever had sex that she started to lose it.”
I stiffen, and then my back comes abruptly off the cushion. “You didn’t tell her…”
“The truth?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “No. I told her it was none of her business.”
I literally collapse back into the couch and let out a long groan, crumpling like all muscle strength has left me. “God, Troy, you might as well have said that we did.”
He scowls and runs his hand through his hair. “I wasn’t gonna lie.”
I sit up straight again. “There are lies and then there are lies. This is one of those necessary lies.”
“So if Johnson asked you if…” His voice trails off at the blush that must be turning my face beet red. “He did ask, didn’t he?”
I give a short nod.
“And you told him nothing’s ever happened between us, didn’t you?”
I beat back the guilt welling up inside me. It’s so completely misplaced, it’s ridiculous. “Why are you looking at me like that? Of course I did. If I’d told him we had sex, there’s no way he’d ever believe that nothing’s going on between us now.”
I’m not sure why Troy’s upset. I mean, I get that he doesn’t like Colin but this is a completely acceptable lie.
“So you think lying about us is going to help your relationship? I guess the same way you think avoiding me is helping it, right?”
“Troy—”
“Or when he asked, you could have told him it was none of his goddamned business.”
“Well unlike you, I want my relationship to work,” I shoot back.
“Yeah, even if you have to lie and throw your friends under the bus to achieve it, right?”
My jaw drops. I clamber off the couch, to stand over him. “What is your problem?”
He rises to his feet and now I’m looking up at him. Not fair.
“Did you ever think that a relationship where you’re lying about your best friend as well as blowing him off is not one worth keeping?”
My mouth snaps shut. I have no response to that. And it’s probably because I’m secretly afraid that the answer is one I don’t want to face.
At my silence, Troy says, “Anyway, I just wanted to apologize about what happened at the restaurant. He gives me a curt nod and exits the living room. I follow him to the front, my stomach turning in turmoil. I need to say something but as is the case so much these days, I’m at a loss of how to deal with Troy since our relationship became split into two categories: BS (Before Sex) and AS (After Sex). I don’t need to tell you which time I prefer.
He opens the apartment door, and then turns to me, his expression impassive. “I was going to say see you later, but the way things have been going lately, I’m pretty sure saving your relationship won’t leave room for that.”
The tightening of my chest is a physical pain. My heart is pounding like a Kentucky Derby racehorse at the end of the race. “Troy—”
“Night, April.”
I feel a sense of helplessness…and shame as I watch him leave. I automatically turn the deadlock after he pulls the door close behind him. My feet are heavier than cement blocks as I make my way to my bedroom.
I hurt him. He thinks that my relationship with Colin is more important to me than the one I have with him. And I’m the one who’s given him every reason to believe that.
Numb, I change into my pajamas and then grab my cell from my desk. I don’t want to go to bed with Troy mad at me. Not this time. Not like this.
I crawl into bed and check the time on my phone. It’s been a couple minutes since he left, giving him plenty of time to get back to his apartment. I quickly compose a text and send it to him.
Don’t be mad at me. You’re my best friend. I can’t bear to lose you.
Seconds go by and then minutes as I wait for him to respond. I pull the covers around me when it passes the half-hour mark. At the hour mark, I know he’s ignoring me. He must be super pissed, which doesn’t make for an easy sleep. But I do, eventually, in the wee hours of the morning.
***
The first thing I do when I wake up is check my phone. It’s 9:08 and the green message bubble displays two unread texts. One’s from Colin and the other is from Troy. I swipe and read Troy’s.
Calm down. You’re not going to lose me. And I’m not mad at you…anymore. I am replacing you as my BFF though.
Giddy with relief, I laugh and immediately text him back.
You wouldn’t dare. And it took u long enough to text me back. U had me sweating.
He replies instantly.
I thought some sweating/suffering was in order.
Fiend.
Me: What are u doing 2night? U want 2 do something?
I have three finals I need to study for, but I can do that during the day. I’m more than willing to clear the evening to hang out with my best friend.
Troy: Thought you’d have plans with Johnson…
Me: Nothing definite.
Not exactly a lie since I planned on canceling with Colin anyway. After the Melissa fiasco, a night off won’t be a bad thing.
Troy: I’m going out with the guys.
Swallowing hard, I stare blindly at the screen. Then my fingers are back in motion.
Me: And...?
Troy: Sorry, I can’t.
Of course he can. He can ask me to come with, or he can blow them off and go out with me. It’s not like he hasn’t done it plenty of times before. And aren’t I asking him to do the one thing he’s been complaining I haven’t been doing enough of lately? Spending time with him. Obviously he’s not over the making-me-suffer part.
He’s really good at it.
Me: Okay. Well have fun.
I tag a no-hard-feelings smiley face on the end even though that’s a lie. His rejection hurts.
Troy: U 2. ;)
I drop my phone on the bed.
Right. Fat chance of that happening.
CHAPTER EIGHT
School on Monday is a welcome break from what had basically turned out to be a thoroughly uneventful weekend where the highlight had been studying with Em. I canceled on Colin and I hadn’t seen or talked to Troy since the texts we exchanged Saturday morning. The latter bothered me the most. Even still, at the end of a long day of classes, I’m more than happy to get back to my apartment.
“I’m home,” I call out and push the door shut with a loud click.
There’s a pause and then the place erupts into screams. My heart stops but within seconds I’m surrounded by my two shrieking roommates. Their beaming smiles and the crazed excitement in their eyes starts my stalled heart beating again.
I open my mouth to curse them out for scaring the bejezus out of me, but anything I would have said would’ve been drowned out.
“Oh my God, April!” Rebecca grabs my wrist and starts pulling me down the short hall. Liv positions herself behind me, her hand pressing against my back, urging me along.
I let out a bewildered laugh and let them whisk me into the living room. As if I have any choice in the matter. “What is the matter with you two? Have you gotten into the liquor cabinet?”
“Look!” Rebecca points to the 52” flat-screen TV her father gave her for Christmas.
Their ohmygod ohmygod chants fill the room while I stare at the commercial where the Progressive woman sings I’ll Stand by You.
When I turn and give them the are-you-nuts look, Liv says, “Wait. It’s coming on after the commercials.” She glances at Rebecca as she bounces on the balls of her feet, her body humming with barely contained excitement.
“What’s coming on after the commercial?” Liv of all people knows that a) I don’t like surprises. I prefer to be prepared for any and everything. And b) I have the patience of a two-year-old.
“You’ll see,” is Rebecca’s cryptic reply.
Okay, now I’m completely baffled. I turn my attention back to the TV and hear the familiar intro to TMZ.
“There’s no question. This chick has the best ass,” says the bearded guy behind the cubicle wall.
One of the black guys snorts. “Hey man, I’m not gonna argue with you.”
After a brief shot of them, the show goes to a videotape of a girl in a bikini standing on the beach, her back to the camera. It takes me a couple seconds for the black string bikini, the girl’s shape and finally the long strands of her curly dark hair to register.
My mouth falls open and my eyes go as wide as they possibly can.
Holy shit! That’s me.
“What the hell?” I mutter.
My friends start clapping their hands, and resume jumping up and down as if they are on pogo sticks.
Rebecca squees loudly. “April, you’re famous.”
“They said she has the best ass in the country. I think it’s more like she’s infamous,” Liv jokes.
Eyes glued to the TV, I finish watching the fifteen-second video of myself on a shoot I’d done last summer in California. It had been a print ad for a cruise line. At the end of the tape, a close-up picture of my face flashes across the scene—another modeling shot. No anonymity there.
Liv waggles her eyebrows at me. “Honey, I’ve always known you have a sweet ass and now millions of people are going to see it.”
“Very funny,” I say and slap at her hand when she pinches one of the cheeks half exposed to the TMZ viewers.
“Her name is April Rose Wheeler. And here’s some interesting news. She’s model Victoria Wheeler’s younger sister,” the blonde says .
The brunette swivels in her chair toward the blonde. “The Victoria’s Secret model?”
The blonde girl nods amid a chorus of wolf whistles and groans from the guys.
“I’ll take that sister action anytime. Ménage a trois anyone?” That remark elicits collective laughs from the group.
“Christ, could you imagine that?” one of the black guys muses, his fingers rubbing his jaw in contemplation.
“Harvey, what do you think, better than Kim Kardashian?”
Rolling his eyes, Harvey chuckles. “Her ass is perfect. Not too flat and not too big.”
“Yeah, the Goldilocks of asses.”
“And the rest of her aint bad either.”
“She is bleepin’ gorgeous.”
The glowing string of compliments has me blushing up a storm.
“Honey, you have a better ass than Kim Kardashian. Tell me you’re not flattered.” Rebecca elbows me gently in the side.
“Ha ha. Very funny.” I’ll be the first one to say I think Kim’s ass is too big for my tastes.
“Well your ass is a hit with everyone.” Liv winks and makes a move to make another swipe at the part of my anatomy in question. Laughing, I swiftly turn so it’s out of reach of her groping hands.
“Wait till the guys see it.”
Rebecca’s comment brings home the full realization of what this kind of exposure might mean to me on a personal level. And it’s the kind of exposure I don’t want. When you’re a model, this kind of attention is par for the course. But my friends—especially the guys—and the people I go to school with are another matter entirely.
“Don’t you dare say a word to them.”
One of the few things I like about modeling at my level—besides the money and the clothes—is the anonymity I’ve always been able to enjoy. It’s important for me to keep both aspects of my life separate. Being a model is what I do, not who I am.
“Why? What’s the big deal? You do understand that millions of people will see the show. I’m sure the video is already out there on YouTube or something,” Rebecca says.
Liv’s eyes widen as if she’s just been struck by an epiphany. “YouTube,” she exclaims and then she dashes out of the room. She returns shortly with her laptop in hand. Taking a seat on the sofa, her fingers fly smoothly over the keyboard.
“It’s here.” She looks up at me, triumphant.
Rebecca’s dark-blue eyes glow with excitement as she takes a seat beside her and leans down to view the screen. “Over two hundred and twenty thousand views.”
My toothpaste commercial has been on YouTube for two years. The last time I looked, which was sometime last year, it had less than sixty thousand views.
“And the show just aired,” Liv’s eager to stress. “Wait a couple days, your video is going to go viral.”
Now I’m rolling my eyes. “I seriously doubt it.”
“I’m not kidding. You’ll be like the girlfriend of that quarterback,” Liv says.
“What girl?”
“Don’t you remember when that sports announcer—the old guy—made a huge deal about how beautiful the quarterback’s girlfriend was? They showed
a picture of her and then her picture went viral. All of the TV shows picked up the story because the sportscaster was like eighty, and he was practically drooling over a twenty-something-year-old girl.”
“Oh I remember that,” Rebecca says, nodding. “I can’t remember her name, but she ended up getting a bunch of offers from that. I bet she’s thanked God for dirty old men every day since.”
I choke back a laugh.
“I’m not kidding. I mean the girl was young enough to be his great-granddaughter.”
“Ewww.” I groan in chorus with Liv.
Once I calm down, I’m not sure how to feel. I tamp down the feeling of excitement bubbling up in me. “I seriously doubt this is going to do anything for my career.” I’m not that lucky. This kind of stuff doesn’t happen to me. “This show covers all that tabloid stuff. No one takes it seriously.”
Liv shakes her head. “That’s where you’re wrong. They were the first ones to air the video of that football player knocking out his girlfriend in the elevator. That video was picked up by every major network station.”
“Yeah, but that was a crime being committed, not some girl’s ass in a bikini,” I point out.
“Well I think it’s criminal how good your ass looks in the bikini,” Rebecca deadpans.
Liv giggles and I fight back a smile. “You’re hopeless.”
“Just promise you won’t stop taking our calls when you’re big and famous,” Liv teases.
“As long as you promise that when you’re the wife of a famous NFL quarterback, you won’t do any of those celebrity housewives shows.”
Liv’s happy to play along. “It’s a deal.”
“So why can’t we say anything to the guys?” Rebecca asks, watching me closely.
I sigh and prop a hand on my hip. “C’mon guys,” I whine. “Because it’s embarrassing. It’s like sending out an invitation to my friends to come look at my ass. Is that really something you want your boyfriends to see?”
Bec exchanges a glance with Liv before coming back with, “You know, you do have a point. The less Scott sees of your ass the better. Next thing I know, he’ll be making comparisons and wondering what the hell he’s doing with me.”
Always Been You Page 7
