by L. D. Davis
I put my hand on his cheek, and he closed his eyes and leaned into my touch. Tears squeezed through and slid down his face.
He gathered me to him, crying just as hard as I was.
“I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry,” he sobbed into my hair.
“You’re such an asshole,” I said into his shoulder.
“I know.”
“I hate you,” I sobbed.
“You love me because I’m me – Badass Breck,” he said, sniffing.
“Someone should hashtag that.”
“I already did.”
I laughed, and I shouldn’t have, because there was nothing funny about this day. Not a damn thing.
“I love you,” Alden said.
“I love you, too,” I said.
“Are you…in love with me?”
“Yes,” I said carefully.
“I told you so.” He said smugly.
It took me a minute to get it, and then I did.
“You pompous, conceited, pelvic thrusting asshole.”
“Yeah, but I’m your pompous, conceited, pelvic thrusting asshole.”
I kissed him then. I kissed him hard. Kissed him with all of my might.
Todd released a brief statement about the tape. He acknowledged his wrongdoing, but said that he and his wife had dealt with it long ago and asked for everyone to move on.
Larson released that sex tape, but he didn’t know about all of the pictures I had taken of myself after he used to beat me. I emailed them to myself, plus audio of him admitting he had hit me. The day after I arrived in L.A., after Alden and I released our own statement, I went into that secret email and forwarded each email to Larson. I didn’t expect him to respond, and he didn’t. I never heard from him again.
