Halfway Perfect

by Julie Cross

  I can’t believe she spoke so candidly at fifteen. I bet Wes had a complete shit fit. I would never have the balls to say some of the stuff she admitted. I’d have gone with the standard media answers.

  And this article, this is Eve Nowakowski, the Eve I know. Everything Wes has said about her contradicts the person in this interview and maybe she needs to remember. Maybe that’s one thing I can do to help Eve.

  So I place an order for two copies of this issue and then I send one to Eve’s dorm address and one to Elana, because I have a feeling that this might have been the story that made Elana an early Eve Castle fan.

  Chapter 46: Eve

  January 10, 10:30 a.m.

  I’ve been staring at the magazine I pulled from the mailbox Stephanie and I share for so long I’m about to be late for Larson’s class. I only have one course with him this semester and today’s the first day.

  Alex sent me the issue of Seventeen with me on the cover. Technically, it doesn’t say anywhere that it’s from him, but I know it is. I haven’t heard so much as a peep out of Alex since he left the agency apartment on Christmas night. I still can’t believe he went through with the breakup with Elana. I wonder how Wes took it? I wonder if Alex is doing okay with work and everything.

  Steph did all the online patrolling for me again when the story broke, and no one could get a single comment out of Alex, like he went into hiding or something. Maybe he went back to Nebraska? It’s not like he’d call me up to tell me if he did. Not after what I told him and how I reacted to his reaction.

  When I get to Professor Larson’s class, I slide into the back, wary because I was two minutes late and I dreaded his reaction to seeing me, knowing I failed him completely after everything he did. I spend the first half of the class flipping through the issue of Seventeen Alex sent me and rereading the interview I did years ago. I really liked that editor. I felt like she got me and she talked to me like an adult, not the model kind of adult, but the kind with goals and a future and possibilities that had nothing to do with fashion.

  After class, I’ve already decided to man up and face the music with Larson, but he starts walking toward my desk, a huge grin on his face.

  “Miss Nowakowski, how was your break? I assume you’re all set and totally prepared for your interview in two days?”

  My mouth falls open. He doesn’t know. And now I get to relive it all over again. “I thought you would have heard by now,” I sputter, keeping my eyes on my notebook. “I quit working for Janessa. I didn’t get the GPA for first semester, and I’m not eligible for the Mason Scholarship anymore…I wasn’t even planning on going to the interview.”

  Professor Larson’s forehead wrinkles. “I see. Well, I can’t say I’m not disappointed, but there’s always next year.”

  Disappointing Professor Larson after all he’s done for me is probably worse than the feeling I got after seeing the C in calc last month.

  Chapter 47: Alex

  January 11, 2:00 p.m.

  “That’s what I’m wearing?” I say to the wardrobe guy.

  He looks worried and glances at the article of clothing dangling on the hanger and then back at me. “Is that a problem?”

  I laugh. “Just plain old, blue-and-white-striped boxers? No, not a problem at all. In fact, I think I love Cosmo.”

  The guy smiles and shrugs. “Well, it’s not a high-fashion piece. We just want you to look like you could be someone’s boyfriend or husband. A better-looking version, of course, but still accessible.”

  Accessible. I can live with that. So far, since the breakup story broke, work has remained steady, though I’m doing smaller jobs, and I doubt Wes is turning anything down, but still, I haven’t had any time to add more work to my schedule. It’s booked and I’m making money.

  Once I’m dressed in my very comfortable (and roomy) boxers, I head over to hair and makeup and immediately spot Eve.

  Eve Castle is shooting Cosmo today. Had I read the full call sheet beyond the basic info at the time, I might have known that. But I’m pretty sure I was a last minute add-in, because I just got the details this morning and had to haul ass to get here on time.

  I want to walk over and talk to her. She’s spotted me. I know she has, but she’s trying to look unaffected. I’m staring at Eve across the room in her lacy black bra and panties, when someone plops down beside me.

  “Hey man…didn’t know you were going to be here.”

  Jason, my other roommate, and his girlfriend are seated next to me, taking their turn with hair and makeup. “Oh hey, yeah, this was kind of last minute I guess…”

  “You must be the youngest dude here,” he says, glancing around.

  There are ten models at this shoot, and almost everyone looks like they’re in their twenties or thirties. And Cosmo usually uses couples for the bedroom shoots, which is obviously what we’re doing today given all the underwear and the big bed in the middle of the studio. However, at least two of us aren’t a couple. I know that for a fact.

  Just when I can’t sit still a second longer, the photographer grabs Eve and some dude who looks about thirty and I’m forced to stand there and watch this guy put his hands all over her. And then instead of giving verbal directions, the photographer dude keeps stepping in and finding a million excuses to put his hands all over Eve and physically move her around.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, taking lots of slow deep breaths until I can stop myself from wanting to punch someone. That violent rage seems to be happening to me a lot lately, and I’m not sure why. Maybe I need anger management classes or something.

  “What are you doing here?”

  I open my eyes and see Eve standing in front of me, leaning close. “Working, like you.”

  Her hair is falling in her eyes, so I reach over and move it out of the way. I can’t help it and this whole accidentally working together feels like a temporary free pass to be close to Eve.

  “So you and Elana, you really did it, huh?” she says, lowering her voice.

  “I told you I was going to.” My fingers land on her hip, and I find myself tugging her closer, keeping our conversation as private as possible.

  “I thought you left and went back to Nebraska,” Eve whispers.

  “I was giving you space. I just don’t want—”

  Her eyes lift up to meet mine. “Yeah, I know.”

  “You two!” the photographer shouts. Eve and I both jump and then turn around to see him pointing at us. Then he turns to the assistant and says, “Cute, right?”

  The assistant stares at us too. “Very middle America, friendly neighbors, high school sweethearts. It should work.”

  The assistant waves us over and calls the hair girl over, and she starts messing with Eve’s hair. Then a wardrobe person puts a long-sleeved, men’s dress shirt on Eve, leaving it unbuttoned. And instead of the bed, we get to sit on the long brown leather couch. Actually, we’re lying on it, stretched out with our limbs tangled together.

  Eve and I are left alone for a minute while lights and cameras are adjusted. I wiggle around to move my arm, which is smashed under both of us and starting to turn numb. Finally, my hand is free and I rest it on Eve’s upper arm. “How are you? I mean with school and everything?”

  She looks up at me and there are so many words stuck in her expression but she just says, “Good.”

  I lean in and touch my forehead to hers. “I miss you.”

  Her eyes widen like she had expected me to play it cool, but I’m kind of done with that.

  The photographer stands above and says, “This is a foreplay story. Just do whatever you want.”

  Foreplay. That explains the shirt and the couch.

  Eve lowers her head and at first I think she’s getting started on the current job at hand by kissing my neck, but instead she whispers, “I miss you too.”

  My gaze locks with hers again
and then I’m kissing her. My hand slides inside her shirt, tugging her closer. The rest of the shoot becomes the easiest work I’ve ever done in my entire life.

  After we finish our couch make-out scene, Eve and I stand together watching my roommate Jason get tied to the metal bedposts by his girlfriend, who’s using two designer neckties to do the job. She has trouble keeping a straight face and it takes a while to shoot.

  The whole time we’re waiting to be done, I’m racking my brain for a plan. I’ve given the Elana breakup a couple of weeks to cool down and become old news. I’ve thought about Eve and Wes from a million different angles, and I know that she doesn’t see the same level of severity in that relationship that I see. And I know that getting her to be with me outside of this photo shoot is going to require getting her to see things the way I see them. But what can I say that will be even remotely enlightening to someone as smart as Eve?

  By the time we’re all dressed and ready to go, I’ve made my decision. Screw the tabloids, screw Wes Danes. I catch Eve before she gets into the elevator, grabbing her by the hand and pulling her into an empty office.

  Chapter 48: Eve

  When Alex yanks me into the empty office, I’m positive that we’re about to finish our make-out session, and even though everything is complicated as hell right now, I can’t say I’m not happy with this idea.

  Except he doesn’t kiss me or even touch me at all. He’s got that serious, grown-up face again, and I back away from him, taking a seat on the edge of an old wooden desk.

  “We need to talk,” he says right away. “And if you ask me to leave you alone this time, I’m not going to, just so you know.”

  “Is this about Elana?” My heart is already pounding. I’ve been worried about her. She was insanely happy on the phone on Christmas and then I’ve hardly heard from her.

  “It’s not about Elana, not yet anyway.” Alex pauses for a second, taking a deep breath. He looks nervous. “I’ve been thinking about everything you told me, about you and Wes. And Eve, the more I think about it, the more I know that we need to get him fired.”

  I suck in a breath. I can’t help my shocked reaction, but playing it cool would have been my first choice. “Look, Alex—”

  “He needs to be out of your life and out of Elana’s,” he says.

  I close my eyes, drawing in a cleansing breath before opening them again. “Wes is not in my life. He’s just my agent. It’s not like before.”

  Alex shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. He's about five steps away from being in the exact same place he was with you two years ago. You just can’t see it like I can. It isn’t only about him hitting you or about you guys being together like you were. It’s about possessiveness. He’s controlling and manipulating you.”

  “If you’re jealous or worried about me getting back with Wes,” I say, “you seriously don’t have anything to worry about. It’s not happening. We were a mess together, and yeah, sometimes it’s hard getting rid of that part of me that used to be in love with him, but I know it wasn’t good and I don’t want that again.”

  I hope that helps clarify things enough for him, because the last thing I want is for Alex to think I’d choose Wes over him. Right now, I’m choosing no one. Obviously the having a boyfriend thing isn’t one of my strengths.

  Alex’s breathing changes, and I can see he’s angry or frustrated, but I just feel exhausted and don’t know how else to ease his mind.

  “This isn’t about us,” he says finally.

  “Is it about guilt? You feel guilty for everything that happened since that day Wes found us in your apartment? It’s not your responsibility to fix this, if that’s what you think.”

  “It’s not about guilt!” He steps closer. “It’s about love. I love you. There. I said it. And there’s nothing I can do to change that now. So if you think I’m capable of sitting around watching all this shit happen to you, then, well…then you’re wrong.”

  My heart thuds twice as fast now and tears build up in the corners of my eyes, but I’m not letting them fall. Not even one. And I can’t open my mouth to say anything because my voice will come out all shaky.

  Alex scrubs his hands over his face and then drops them, looking completely defeated. “I didn’t want to play that card. I told myself I wasn’t going to.”

  I sit there frozen, waiting for Alex to say whatever else he needs to say. All I can do is keep repeating those words over and over in my head…Alex loves me…and trying to wrap my brain around this concept.

  “Wes should be in jail,” he says. “He was twenty-four and he slept with a fifteen-year-old. Can’t you see the wrong in that?”

  I sigh. “Yeah, it’s technically illegal, but I wanted him to, he didn’t force me. It wasn’t his idea. Things aren’t always the way they are on paper.”

  Alex throws his hands up in the air. “It was his job to stop you! He should have gotten away. He should have told someone and then reassigned you to a new agent. He shouldn’t have reciprocated any of your feelings.”

  “Great. Thanks, Alex.” I roll my eyes. “I really needed a reminder of what a crazy seductive fuckup I was a few years ago. Thanks a lot.”

  He focuses on the wall above my head. “Okay, forget that. Forget the whole age thing. You keep saying how bad you two were for each other, but it had nothing to do with you, Eve. Abusive relationships are not the fault of both parties. And maybe you didn’t have bruises and black eyes all the time. It comes in cycles, so you probably had months where everything was perfect and he probably did a lot more threatening than acting on it. A lot more mental hits than physical ones. But it’s all the same. I’ve been doing some research lately. Tell me if any of this sounds familiar.”

  “Any of what—?” I try to interrupt, but he lifts his hand to stop me.

  “Any of the signs that you’re in an abusive relationship,” Alex says, holding up one finger. “Dominance. Did he tell you what to do? Tell you what to wear, what to eat? Who to talk to?”

  I lock eyes with Alex, holding his gaze firmly. “He was my agent. Of course he gave me those directions. Are you telling me he doesn’t ever advise you on what to wear and on your diet?”

  Alex lifts an eyebrow. “Not outside of work or work-related events. And he advises, not demands or enforces. What about humiliation? Did he belittle you? Criticize you? Tell you that you’re a worthless cause or that you’re not able to function without him?”

  My eyes squeeze shut before I can stop them. My breath is quickening, like something is trying to claw its way out of my chest. I try to stop my mind from traveling to those dark places, but I can’t. I keep hearing him—Wes—his words.

  Hannah obviously doesn’t know what happens when you’re allowed to think for yourself.

  I want you to get everything you deserve, and I’m not sure that’s possible without me intervening.

  You’re so fucking hardheaded. If you’d just listen to me, we wouldn’t have these problems.

  You need a strong guy who can handle your ups and downs.

  “And we already know that he isolated you,” Alex says. “You couldn’t tell anyone you were with him and if you wanted to spend time with him, it had to be just the two of you.”

  I’m blinking back tears and trying to find my voice again. “Okay, you can stop now.”

  He just shakes his head. “What about intimidation? Did he smash things in front of you? Break stuff? Let you know that he wasn’t above violence?”

  How does he know all this? My hands are shaking and my eyes are squeezed shut again. I can’t stop the tears from falling down my cheeks. Whatever is caught in my chest is about to come loose. Whether it’s words or a sob, I’m not sure yet and it’s out of my hands.

  “Then he blamed you, right? He made excuses about how unreasonable you were and how difficult you were to be with, and he was probably very sorry and he probably l
oved you so much that he just got carried away sometimes. Does that sound familiar, Eve?”

  I shake my head, unable to open my eyes or lift a hand to wipe my face off. “Stop, please.”

  Alex places one hand on either side of me, leaning in so close his forehead almost touches mine. My eyes open the second I feel the heat radiating off his body and hitting mine.

  “Listen to me,” he says, softer and more confident. “It wasn’t your fault. Wes is such a master manipulator, Eve. He did it to me too. He told me this sob story about you and how you needed him and you were so messed up and I believed him. For a little while, I believed him. Then I read that interview that you did in Seventeen, and I knew someone had sucked the life out of you after that.”

  I’m fighting the urge to break down so much that I can hardly breathe. Alex lifts a hand and rests it on my cheek, wiping away some of the tears with his thumb. “It doesn’t matter how often he hurt you or why he did it or what you did to provoke him. There's no excuse that’s acceptable. None. I don’t think you’ve ever let yourself believe that.”

  I swallow the lump in my throat and shake my head again. “You don’t get it. You weren’t there. Not everything is black and white.”

  His mouth forms a tight line like he’s biting back an angry retort. He drops his hand from my face and returns it to the desk beside me. “Okay, I wasn’t there. But you were. Think about it, Eve. Look at everything that happened between you and Wes as an outsider. What if it were Stephanie or Elana explaining this to you? What if Elana said she deserved to have Wes hit her because she was being a huge brat? What would you tell her?”

  My whole body is shaking as Alex’s words hit me like the biggest realization of my life. What if it was Elana? It’s so much easier to deal with this my way, the way I’d rationalized it for years. Things got bad between us and I had to leave. We loved each other too much to function—this is what I repeated in my head over and over again, and somehow it drowned out the bruises Wes left on my arms, the shattered glass that pierced the side of my neck, requiring stitches, the words that bypassed my skin and went straight for my heart. Wes Danes screwed with my head so bad I can’t even see things for what they are.