by Sky Corgan
I listen to the sound of his heartbeat as it begins to slow. I feel like it's counting down to when he kicks me out. I begin to count the beats, taking a wild guess that I won't even make it to two minutes before he's ready to leave.
Sixty seconds. One hundred and twenty seconds. The beats tick on. I lose count after three minutes and start over. Two more minutes, and I stop counting. My eyes are growing heavy. My body is exhausted, and his fingers strumming through my hair is just way too soothing.
“Would you like to take a shower with me?” Chandler asks, rousing me from my half asleep state.
“A shower would be lovely,” I reply, hiding my shock that I'm not going to have to spend the next several minutes dressing alone and contemplating my feelings.
I stand, and Chandler takes me by the hand and leads me to his bedroom, then to the master bathroom. It feels too intimate. More intimate than what we just did together. Especially when he soaps me up and washes my hair and lavishes affection upon me under the hot spray of the showerhead. His lips are on me. His hands. It's almost better than all the sex we've had so far because I feel things from him. Everything seems genuine—like he actually wants to be with me.
We stare at one another like star-crossed lovers. Every time our eyes meet, something deep within my soul stirs. Every time he touches me, my body is renewed with sexual energy. We kiss until we're breathless, and then he holds me like he never wants to let me go, our slippery bodies pressed together. It's the best thing ever.
But all good things must come to an end. We eventually turn pruney under the water and are forced to get out. To be honest, I don't know how we didn't use up all the hot water, because we must have been in the shower for at least an hour. Chandler towels my hair off. Then he goes two steps further, blow dries it and brushes it out. I giggle at his reflection in the mirror, and his easy smile breaks my heart. I try to wipe the first tear away as it cascades down my cheek, pretending that an eyelash fell into my eye. Then I hold myself together until we part ways until dinner, and when I'm finally alone in my room, I completely fall apart.
Why is he being so wonderful to me today? Does he know that he's only making things worse? If he didn't before, then he'll know when he watches the video of me in my room, sprawled across my bed sobbing like an infant into my pillow. All of these tears are for him. Every single one of them.
I cry until I have no energy left. Then I fall asleep until a knock on the door wakes me several hours later. It's dinner, I realize when I look at the clock.
I pull myself out of bed and quickly get dressed. A glance in the mirror reveals puffy eyes. Sleep did little to revitalize my face. I rub some concealer around my eyes, pull my hair back into a ponytail and head to the dining room.
Chandler is waiting for me with a smile. He looks breathtakingly handsome in a tuxedo. It's the first time I've seen him dressed up since I came here. It makes me want to clear the dinner table and fuck him on top of it. My body is desperate for his touch. My lips, needy for his kiss. My heart yearns to be by his side for all eternity. All of these things I can't have. The ones I could are in the past. The one I want the most is too far out of reach.
“I feel underdressed,” I say with a forced smile as I slip into the seat across from him. I'm wearing a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. He looks ready to go to a fancy ball, and my attire is more appropriate for the beach.
“It's surf and turf night.” He gestures to the plates that Susan is placing before us. There appears to be a filet mignon and a lobster tail on each one with a side of asparagus and mashed potatoes and gravy.
“Do you always wear a tux on surf and turf night?” I smirk, feeling myself relax. It's so easy to talk to him. So easy to joke with him. Part of me wishes I didn't feel like we're so damn compatible.
“I'm eccentric.” His eyes widen for effect, and I can't help but giggle.
“Well, sorry I didn't pack my ball gown. I left all of my princess dresses back at the castle.” I thumb behind me, though I have no idea what direction home is in.
“You still look like a princess to me.” His expression softens, and I feel genuine affection behind his words.
I blush, brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear that doesn't even exist. I can feel the tears coming to my eyes again, and I have to look away—at anything but him. Don't cry, Emma. Don't cry.
I manage to hold myself together by not engaging him in any more conversation. He tries to make small talk, asking me how the food is and how I've enjoyed my stay. The food is delicious as always, and my stay has been incredible, though taxing at times. Whenever he can get a sweet word in, he does, and it only hurts me further. Finally, I can't take it anymore.
“What happens after this?” My treacherous mouth asks the question that I know I won't like the answer to.
“After this?” He seems startled. “After this, I'll compile all the images from our time together—”
“That's not what I meant,” I cut him off, staring at him intently.
He gets my meaning instantly. No more needs to be said. When you can communicate with someone without words, that's when you really know you have a deeper connection, I think with sad longing.
“What do you want to happen after this, Emma?”
“I...” I stutter. Again I feel the need to tell him I love him. I refuse to look like a fool, though. “I want to stay in contact with you.” I surrender to the reality that that's the best I can hope for.
“Then we'll stay in contact,” he says with a smile, and that's the end of the conversation.
I return to my room with a hollow pit in my stomach, hating myself for not having said more. It felt like the last real chance I had to tell him my feelings. There's no way to know how he would have reacted, though. And if he would have laughed or rejected me, it would have broken my heart, maybe more than leaving him will. I'd rather hold onto my pride and leave here with my head held high.
For the first time ever, when I lie down to sleep, I pray for that strange dream where Chandler comes into my room and takes advantage of me. Maybe I should have asked him for sleeping medicine. Is it too late? I glance over at the clock. It's a little after 11 PM. I've already been tossing and turning for a while. I wonder if he's asleep.
I stare at the door to Chandler's bedroom, wishing I had the nerve to open it and climb into bed with him. What would he do, I wonder? Would he be angry? Would he kick me out? I'd like to think not. I imagine that he would lift up the covers so that I can crawl under them with him. I picture him caressing my face and drawing me to him for a kiss. Then I envision other things, naughty things that make me want to touch myself.
Oh, what the hell. Let's end this the same way we started it.
I've done enough things naked on camera this week to be far less embarrassed about my body. I kick the covers off, disrobe and slip my hand between my legs. My other hand moves to grope my breast, pinching and tugging on my nipple. I work my fingers in tight circles, massaging out my pleasure as I moan Chandler's name into the darkness.
CHAPTER EIGHT
If I said I slept well, I would be lying. Even after a less than stellar orgasm, my body just would not give in to sleep. My brain would not shut the fuck up. The last time I glanced over at the clock, it was half past three.
The banging on the door that announces breakfast is unwelcome. I groan to life, rolling over and hugging my pillow, immediately wishing it was Chandler's solid body. I should have said fuck it and gone into his room last night. The worst he could have done was told me to get out.
I force myself up, changing into a comfortable pair of slacks and a blouse for the flight home today. There's a part of me that's hopeful for some goodbye sex, but Chandler made it fairly clear yesterday that the cake room was going to be our last time together. Speaking of which, I wonder what he did with all those desserts. We each had a cupcake after dinner last night, but that was just a drop in the bucket compared to the spread in that room.
I'm not surpr
ised when I see a good portion of leftover cupcakes and cakes set out on the dining room table when I join Chandler for breakfast. It appears he just had eggs, though. There's an empty plate in front of him and no sign of frosting or crumbs.
“I was going to wait for you, but they get cold fast.” He gives me an apologetic look.
“Do you wear a suit and tie on cupcake breakfast day?” I tease him, noticing he's dressed up again.
“You got me there.” He points at me, making a clicking sound with his tongue, and I laugh and shake my head. I don't know about him.
“Do you really expect me to eat this?” I sit across from him, watching Susan pour me a glass of milk from a pitcher. It looks way fresher than anything we have in the US.
“I'm still trying to sabotage you from getting beefier than me.” He rests his elbows on the table, grinning at me. Damn him and his charming smile.
“You know what? You win.” I pile my plate with cupcakes. Time to eat my feelings.
“We're not working out after this, by the way,” he mentions.
“I kind of figured since you're all dolled up.” I nod towards his attire.
“Dolled up, huh?” he chuckles.
“A rose by any other name.” My eyes flash.
“I don't think that's what he meant.” Chandler gives me a queer look.
“Well, whatever.” I peel the wrapper from what appears to be a red velvet cupcake.
Chandler watches me stuff my face. He seems almost fascinated with me, and it makes me super self-conscious.
“Don't watch me.” I hold my hand in front of my mouth.
“What else am I supposed to do?” His voice is full of amusement.
“Look at the wall.”
“Alright.” He turns his gaze to the wall for a few seconds before refocusing on me. Brat. Looks like I'm not going to get to eat all my feelings. I don't want him to think I'm a fatty.
“So what's on the agenda today?” I ask before wiping my mouth with a napkin.
Chandler takes a deep breath, and there's a flash of concern in his expression. “Today you make a big decision.”
“Oh really? What kind of decision?”
“Are you ready to see?” He places his hands on the armrests of his chair, poised to push it away from the table.
I nod, standing to follow him down the hall. He's been vague every day that I've been here, but he's also been in control. Knowing that he's going to let me decide something—something that's probably important—makes me feel slightly uneasy.
We stop in front of a room. Chandler's shoulders rise and fall as he gives pause. He's acting differently. Something about this room bothers him.
He glances back at me before opening the door. I'm not sure what I expected to see, but it certainly wasn't piles of cash everywhere. They're laid out on multiple tables, not stacked very high, but there are a lot of them. I step into the room and walk up to one of the tables. George Washington's face looks back at me hundreds of times over. They're stacks of ones.
The door clicks closed behind me. Chandler has barely stepped into the room. He's standing before the door with his hands in front of him clasped at the wrist. He seems unusually stiff.
“Are we going to have sex in this?” I gesture at the money, thinking that would be a story to tell. Who wouldn't want to fuck in a big pile of money?
“No.” He shakes his head before walking towards me, his gaze to the floor. He stops a few feet short of me, picking up one of the stacks and riffling it across his fingers. “This is one million dollars,” he tells me before glancing around the room. “This is what it looks like in ones.”
“One million dollars,” I mouth the amount in awe.
“And it can all be yours, Emma.”
That gets my attention. Is he serious? I can't even fathom having this much money at my age. Money was never part of the deal when I signed up for this, which makes it all the more shocking.
“You have to choose.” He stares at me intently.
“Choose between what?” The suspense is killing me. I'd give almost anything for the money.
“This.” He gestures to the tables loaded with cash. “Or me.”
“This or you,” I parrot, not really getting his meaning.
“If you want the cash, I'll write you a check before your plane takes off today.” He gives the piles of money a solemn look.
“Or?” I press him to elaborate on the other side of the offer.
“Or you'll leave here without the cash, and we'll officially be a couple. I care about you, Emma.” He caresses my cheek, making my heart flutter. “This week with you has been more than anything I could have imagined. I want more.”
I can feel my pulse in my ears. This is the hardest decision I've ever had to make by a landslide. He's making me choose between love and money. It should be an easy choice. There's no guarantee that if I decide to be with him that we'll stay together. The money could help in so many ways. I could use it to start my career without a care in the world. I could give some to my family to pay them back for everything they've done for me. I'd be stupid not to take it.
I want to cry. He's looking at me like he's silently begging for me to pick him. Will it break his heart if I take the money?
A million different things are going through my mind. The wonderful week I've spent with Chandler. My future, both with and without him in it. I'll regret my decision either way.
“Can I have some time to decide?” I ask him finally.
“No.” He shakes his head, pulling his phone out of his pocket to check the time. “In fact, I'm only going to give you three more minutes. When the time runs out, you get the money.”
I gasp at the unfairness of the situation. Three minutes to decide something that will ultimately change my life in one way or another. Never in a million years did I expect to be put in such a position. Then again, everything that's happened since I walked into this house has been unexpected. My life has been a series of strange adventures. Art and mystery and fantasy all rolled into one. It's more than any girl could have ever dreamed of, and it was all possible because of Chandler.
“You,” I speak the only answer that my heart will allow me to give. “I choose you.” I meet his gaze, and he lets out a soft laugh, though relief is apparent in his expression. He genuinely wanted me to choose him, which means he genuinely wants to be with me. It makes me feel like I made the right choice.
“I'm flattered,” he tells me. “And happy.”
“I'm glad.” A tear rolls down my cheek. Chandler brushes it away with his thumb before leaning in to kiss me. I press my body against him, feeling emotionally shaken in so many ways. He's mine now. He truly belongs to me. “I have a surprise for you,” he whispers into my ear.
“What?” I pull away, gazing up into his handsome face.
“I'm going to give you one more chance to get the money.”
“Really?” My heart leaps with joy. Damn, I really did make the right decision by picking him. I can still walk away with everything.
“Tell me the theme of my exhibit. If you can guess it, the money is yours. But you only have one try.”
That's easy. “Sex.” I don't even have to think about it.
Chandler chuckles, looking momentarily wicked. “I suppose you would think that. You're wrong, though.”
I frown. “Well, we sure had a lot of it. So what's the correct answer?”
“You'll see at the opening. You should get ready to go. My guys will be here to pick you up shortly.” He nods towards the door. I can feel the disappointment radiating from him. He had really wanted me to guess correctly. Hell, I had wanted to guess correctly. The thought that I have to leave all this money behind makes me sick. But at least I still have Chandler. I made that choice knowing I was giving up the money. It's not his fault I fucked up my second chance at it.
“Thank you, Chandler, for everything,” I tell him with a smile.
And for once, I'm the one who leaves him in the r
oom alone.
CHAPTER NINE
Chandler makes a surprisingly good boyfriend for a guy that's so busy. He texts me throughout the day, and we Skype regularly. Even though we're apart, it always feels like he's close. I like that feeling, and I still don't regret the decision I made, though I damn sure didn't tell my parents about it. They would have chewed me up one side and down the other if they discovered that I chose love over a million dollars. As it is now, they seem a bit skeptical of my relationship with Chandler, but that's just because they haven't met him yet. It probably doesn't help that we've been apart for two months, and he still hasn't visited, but the opening of his new exhibit is next month, so I'll definitely see him then.
One of the benefits of our long distance relationship is that we spend copious amounts of time talking about everything. I've gotten to know him as a person down to his very core, and he's gotten to know me. It's not as great as being together physically, but I'm still content. I even told him about what I want to do with my life and showed him my art. He praised me and has been incredibly supportive, offering to hook me up with his contacts in Japan. Since I didn't get the money, I decide to take him up on his offer. It kind of feels like I'm using him a little, but he's my boyfriend, and I do love him, so it can't be that bad for me to accept his help.
It feels like a short forever before the opening of Chandler's exhibit. When I ask him if I can see the paintings beforehand, he politely declines, giving me that sexy grin of his and assuring me that they were done tastefully and I'll love them. I want to believe him, but thinking back to all the sex we had and my parents potentially seeing me naked makes me feel really uncomfortable.
The trip to New York where Chandler's opening is taking place is all expenses paid for me, my parents, and one friend. I decide to bring Mia since she's the one who forced me to apply for his contest. She squeals at the invite, maybe even more excited to meet Chandler than I was. She's also an artist, but she does portraits more in-line with Chandler's work. I can't help but wonder if they would have ended up a couple instead if she had gone in my place. She's a beautiful girl with all dark features. Thank God she didn't pass the virgin test, I think as we walk up the steps of the Metropolitan.
