“Adam, I had to leave,” she says tiredly. “I had to get away.”
“What the hell do you mean?” I’m angry, shaken, worried. This is horrible, this can’t be happening. She couldn’t just leave after what happened last night; I know we both felt it, the magic between us. If only I could talk some sense into her – it sounds like someone else’s words are coming out of her mouth. “Come back Tessa, I’m begging you, just come back home.”
“But I am home,” she says simply. “I went back, I’m already driving.”
Indeed, I can hear the telltale sound of a motor running in the background. Fuck me, she’s gone and done it, gone back to the big city where all of her problems started. She’s gone and abandoned me.
Just like I did her, a voice reminds me in my head, and my hands form angry fists at my sides as I realize it’s an eye for an eye. But this can’t be fucking revenge, it just can’t be. She was so sweet last night, so loving…she couldn’t have changed her mind just like that.
“No, I’m not coming back,” she says quickly, her voice already set in her thinking. “I’m going back home to start working on my career again. I needed a break, Adam, but that’s it.”
A heavy sigh.
“I just needed to get away, that’s why I came to you. I’m really sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, I never meant to do that. I don’t want a relationship, Adam.”
I’ve never wanted a relationship in my life, but as she says those words, I realize I do now. I want it all, the fucking 2.4 kids, a white picket fence and a goddamned golden retriever. As long as Tessa is there, I’m happy.
But she just crushed all my hopes and dreams in one fell swoop.
“Tessa, why don’t you come back, turn around and we can talk this through?” I ask desperately, even though I know I’m grasping at straws. “I’m sure we can figure something out, sweetheart…remember last night? That was special, Tessa, it was-“
“Stop,” she says weakly, her voice shaky, like it’s getting really fucking hard to speak to me. “I’m not coming back. How is this going to work, Adam? You’re my goddamned stepbrother, we can never be together. Think of the scandal.”
“I don’t care about any fucking scandal!” I only realize I’m yelling once the words leave my mouth, and I run a shaky hand through my thick hair. “I don’t care, Tessa, can’t you see? I just want you…”
“Well, I don’t want you,” she finishes shakily. “I don’t, and I’m leaving. Sorry, Adam, and goodbye-“
I can hear something, a strange noise, and then the line goes dead. Dead, just like my heart as it drops down low again, hurting like I never thought it would.
She’s fucking gone. Gone, and not coming back, not now, not ever.
I thought all I needed was one chance to show her how I feel, one night together and she’d be sure we were right for one another. But instead, everything’s fucked up now. She doesn’t even want me as a friend, let alone a boyfriend. She wants nothing to do with me.
My phone drops from my hand, probably shattering the screen on my hardwood floor. I don’t care. I don’t give a fuck about anything anymore, because she’s done with me, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
All the work, all her progress, all gone in one moment.
She doesn’t want me.
And I fucking live, breathe and yearn for her, my heart broken in two because of her cruel words…
I smash a fist into the wall, screaming her name out loud.
***
4 months later
I don’t notice the time passing. I don’t notice too much of fucking anything, to be honest, because I’m too busy wallowing in self-pity.
She’s fucking gone, everyone keeps telling me. She made her choice, she isn’t coming back. She didn’t choose you, she picked her other life. It’s her choice to make, you need to get over her and finally move on with your life.
But I can’t. I freaking can’t, because she’s different, and special, and oh-so-good for me.
When you have something perfect and it shatters in your hands, you spend a lifetime gluing those pieces together, and every single time, you miss one, find a crack, and find a hole. It’s all gone, but you won’t admit it. You just keep gluing and gluing until your hands are fucking sore, your heart aching.
So I throw myself into the restaurant, cooking one amazing meal after another. I know the food is good, but you know that saying about cooking with love to give it a special taste?
I cook with anger, with hatred, with fucking bitterness. And it’s a small wonder the restaurant patrons don’t taste the goddamned sour taste of jealousy in their chocolate mousse.
I’m also focusing on my other project; the one I’m doing with school kids. I’m trying hard to make a difference in someone else’s world, if I can’t change my own. So I do programs, speak at schools, and try to get these kids to eat better.
I’m fucking shocked when I show them veggies like broccoli and cauliflower and they say they’ve never seen them before. But I don’t show it. Instead, I make it my goal to better their food, in school at least, if they have to eat crap at home.
And the day one kid proudly tells me that he made his mom make a stew at home, I’m prouder than ever. It does nothing to fill the black hole in my heart, though.
It’s been a long day and I’m just putting my knives away in the kitchen. I’m pretty sure everyone’s already left, and I’m alone in here, the only light on the one above me, throwing long shades across the room.
“Adam?” a voice interrupts me, and I turn around. Like always, I hope it’s Tessa by some fucking miracle, and like always, I end up disappointed. It’s just Bex, just changed from her hostess uniform in her usual outfit of a tight leather skirt and a crop top.
An outfit that would’ve enticed me half a year ago, but not now. My dick barely twitches at the sight of her perky tits, her long legs. I just don’t give a fuck about anything.
“Yeah,” I reply tiredly, focusing on my knives again. I put everything in place when I feel Bex’s cool hand against my own, and look up into worried brown eyes.
“Hey,” she says softly. “Aren’t you tired? You’ve been working yourself into the ground. Everyone’s worried about you, you know?”
“Boo-freaking-hoo,” I reply coolly. “I’m fine, thanks.” I realize I’m being harsh, but lately, I can’t seem to help it. I’m tired, worn out and fucking angry, and anyone who dares talk to me is going to be on the receiving end of that shit.
People steer clear of me in the restaurant, and on the streets, too. I’ve alienated myself from all of my friends, even Bex and Alec. I just can’t deal with anything right now.
“You’re really not,” Bex says worriedly. “I can see you hurting, and I know it’s because of her.”
Don’t say her name, I beg her silently. Don’t you dare say her fucking name.
Because as soon as it’s out there, I know I’m going to end up in pieces.
“I just want you to feel better, get over this,” Bex says, and I thank every god in existence for the small mercy of not hearing her name on my ex’s lips. It would’ve been too much too handle, and I’m too close to breaking down as it is.
“Adam, Alec and I are worried sick about you… I’m sure there’s something we could do to help you out, make you feel a little bit better?”
She sits on the counter, her skirt riding up and revealing her perfect, creamy skin. Bex is a pale girl, the perfect definition of a gothic vixen. I won’t deny the fact that we had some good fun together back in the day, but let bygones be bygones.
“I’m just tired,” I reply lamely as she leans in closer, her breasts straining against her tight top. Distractedly, I give her impressive décolletage a look, and it’s a sight to behold. Yet it does absolutely nothing for me – or my cock.
“I want to help,” she repeats, and now her voice seems a bit deeper, huskier. She leans in even closer, and her hand finds the back of my head. Slowly, she pulls me in and I let her. I d
on’t know why, but I let her pull me in, and next thing I know, her lips have found mine.
Bex kisses me with abandon, showing me how much she’s missed me all these months since our breakup. Her kiss is desperate, tainted with jealousy and anger, with the need to know she can fix this drama with her body, like she’s used to.
I let her kiss me, waiting for my body to respond. Her lithe tongue fills my mouth, claims me as her own, and yet I’m standing still as a statue. It does nothing for me, fucking nothing. I’m a shell of a man.
Finally, I raise my hands to meet her hips and she lets out a warm exhale against my open mouth. But I don’t pull her closer.
Instead, I lift her by the hips, off the counter and back onto the ground. I look her right into her kohl-lined eyes, giving her a glimpse of my wounded mind.
Her eyes turn from angry to soft and worried. She fucking pities me. She thinks I can’t get it up for her because I’m so hung up on my goddamned stepsister.
And she’s right, too.
“I’m sorry,” I growl. “I can’t, Bex…I fucking can’t.”
And then I finally let myself break down, after four fucking long months without her, of questioning what I’ve done wrong, what I’ve done to deserve her absence. I break down on the floor of my own kitchen, angry tears spilling out of my eyes because I’ve lost her.
And Bex is the one to console me, hold me as I lose myself in the anger and sadness. She’s the one who pulls me up, pours me a whiskey and slaps my back compassionately. She’s the one to call Alec, and then they both try to make me laugh without saying her name a single time.
I don’t know whether it’s good that we’re trying to ignore her silent presence in my heart, or whether it just makes my pain worse. I just know, after a few tumblers of whiskey, I feel considerably better, albeit considerably drunker.
Still, there’s only one thing on my mind, one name swimming in my self-consciousness.
Tessa. Fucking. Silver.
17 - TESSA
It’s been four months since I’ve been back home, and I’ve hated every minute of being here. Jared is a total prick, and pretending to be with him is sucking out the last of my energy. I wish I could just slap him hard, tell him to be himself and go be with this male model I’m pretty sure he’s totally in love with.
But he still holds the threat over me, and every time I threaten him, he says he’ll go to the press and ruin Adam’s career. And that’s the only thing that keeps me in place, keeps me from going straight back to Adam’s doorstep.
I know I should, know it’s a dangerous game we’ve been playing…but even now, four months later, I can’t think of anything but Adam. He still fills my mind, body and soul and all I want is to go back to my happy place in his arms.
I’ll probably never be able to forget that horrific phone call I had to make once I left. Jared pushed the phone into my hand and made me make the call, sitting right next to me in the driver’s seat as we moved along on the journey back home. He fed me the fucking words, made me say the horrible stuff I uttered that day.
But I can try and blame him as much as I want – it was still my own damn fault for obeying him. I should’ve smacked him over the head with that goddamned phone and just left right then and there.
I’ve already hurt Adam, though, and not just once. I can’t just keep reappearing on his doorstep every so often, desperate to make things work again when it all goes awry.
And truth be told, life hasn’t been terrible apart from the all-consuming empty hole in my chest, where my heart used to beat for Adam.
As promised, Jared got me a modeling contract, where a stone-faced lady swiftly told me I’d need to lose some serious weight if I wanted to get back in the business.
And my old routine followed – cut out this meal, skip that one. Nibble on a grape instead of lunch, eat a small cube of cheese when I felt like I was going to pass out. And miraculously, it worked.
My small frame was loved by all of the big magazines, my surly expression claimed to be the look of the year. I was on all of the covers, in all of the ads. I was making heaps in a month, a strange amount of money in my bank account that made me feel like I’d stolen every last cent of my paycheck.
I hated it, every fucking second of posing, impersonating a person I’d hated my whole life. This wasn’t the real Tessa, and Adam had been the one to show me that.
When I came to his house, I was desperate, not knowing that starving myself had been wrong. He showed me the right path, showed me what good food was all about.
The difference now was that I knew what I was doing was wrong. So totally fucked up, yet I couldn’t even stop. I was wading in water that was too deep now, and there was no way of getting out.
Today, Jared and I are going out for a celebratory dinner. You know, gotta keep up appearances with the sponsors. God forbid they find out we’re not even sleeping together – worse, we haven’t even kissed each other in longer than half a year.
I get ready, wearing the dress Jared picked out for me. It’s a long sequin number with a risqué slit on one side. My hair is down in a twenties wave style, my lips coated in thick red lipstick. Jared tells me I look like a million bucks, but I feel like a total impostor in it.
We head out to a trendy restaurant in the city, grabbing a cab.
“Can you at least pretend to look happy?” Jared snarls at me, and I just look at my hands dejectedly. But I’m not fucking happy, I protest silently. I’m miserable, and I’m hungry.
Wouldn’t do any good to tell this to Jared, though, so I keep my mouth shut like the pretty doll I’m supposed to be. For the whole ride there, Jared talks and rants, giving me specific instructions on how I’m supposed to act when there are big shots around.
Finally, we arrive at the restaurant and head inside. Someone called the paps, but not for us, obviously. This sets Jared off on another rant as we head inside. Of course, as soon as we see our bosses, he’s all sugary sweet, like he wasn’t just swearing his head off a moment earlier.
We mingle in the crowd and I flash empty smiles, sweet remarks that I’ve taught myself to give without thinking about them a whole lot. ‘As long as the client is happy’, is Jared’s motto. And tonight, it seems to be working.
I’m complimented time and time again on my appearance, my dress, my hair, my makeup. I don’t give a flying fuck about any of that, unfortunately. The restlessness inside me is too much to bear, and I can only focus on one person, who isn’t even in the room with us.
My Adam…
We sit down to dinner what seems like hours later, and a snooty maître d’ hands me the thick, glossy menu. I start browsing it, and to my surprise, I know what a lot of the food on the list will taste like. It’s not unlike what we had at Adam’s restaurant, and I can already imagine the flavors melting on my mouth as I dig into a delicious meal.
Why the hell not? Maybe I can enjoy myself, just for tonight. Then tomorrow, it’s back to being good girl Tessa, doing everything her fucked up, imaginary boyfriend tells her to.
The maître d’ approaches us again in a little while and I wait while everyone else orders. Bunch of salads all around. Small wonder they’re not just sticking to the olives in their martinis.
“I’ll have a fat-free, no dressing, lemon vinaigrette Greek salad,” Jared orders, giving the poor waiter a pointed look. “And no feta cheese, obviously.”
Finally, the man turns to me and I can already see the inner eye roll he’s holding back. It makes me snicker, which in turn makes the whole table look at me, probably thinking I’m crazy.
“Sorry,” I say with a smile, already feeling a blush creeping on my cheeks. “Um, I’d like to have a steak au poivre, please. The filet mignon. And some roasted garden potatoes on the side, please.”
The table falls deathly silent as I make my order and the waiter jots it down. Finally, when he leaves, another model I met at the shoot gives me a horrified look.
“You’re having steak?” she as
ks me, like I’ve just confessed to first degree murder. “Are you like, not even vegan?”
Her name is Shayne Ellis, and she’s actually an amazing model. The fact that her head is about as empty as a balloon is quite a shame. And now she looks horrified, which only makes me giggle in return.
“Of course she’s vegan,” Jared interrupts with a nervous smile. “She’s totally vegan. I’ll just go change the order to salad, vegan dressing, obviously.”
“I’m not vegan,” I reply firmly and the gasp that follows almost makes me double over with laughter. “I just want to have a nice meal. That’s what we’re here for anyway, right?”
“Well, there’s a try-on fitting tomorrow,” a man in a suit informs me. His girth is about the same as his height and if I’m not mistaken, he ordered a freaking steak as well. “Don’t you think you should order something lighter, maybe?”
I give him a contemptuous look that makes him shrink back in his chair. “I’m very pleased with my order, thank you.”
“But you’ll gain like a thousand pounds!” Shayne shrieks in horror. “That sauce has cream in it, are you insane? And it’s not vegan at all!”
“I’m not fucking VEGAN!” I yell out loud, making everyone in the restaurant drop their cutlery and stare at our table. That includes Jared, who nearly chokes on his fancy cocktail as he gets up, takes me by the arm and flashes our party an apologetic look.
“I’m so sorry, she must’ve had one glass too many,” he says charmingly, and everyone nods and tuts like that’s obviously the right answer. Not that it’s unheard of for models to get shitfaced at dinners like this.
He pretty much drags me to my feet and takes me to the front of the restaurant, not stopping until we’ve come into a shady alley. His face is thunderous as he turns to face me, shooting daggers with his eyes.
“What the fuck, Tessa?!” he screams at me in an unattractive, high pitched voice. “Are you trying to sabotage this whole damn thing? Can you please act like a normal human being? Can you at least fucking try to pretend that you care?”
I give him a blank stare, opening my mouth to start talking, but he’s not done yet. He shushes me right away and keeps on talking.
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