Model Behavior

by Claire Highton-Stevenson

  “Oh, Mother stop it,” Olivia teased, placing Grace back down on the ground. “I know the truth, and you were the most boring parent on the planet; home at the end of the day, tucking me into bed with night-time stories, and I love you for it.” She grinned at her mother and squeezed her hand. “Although I have heard you’re making up for it now with Joan.”

  “Darling, what can I say, having a child gave one some perspective, and all-night drinking versus being at home with you? There was only ever one winner. However, now that you’re old enough to entertain yourself, I am going to live a little. Speaking of which, I need to see a man about a little—”

  “Do not finish that sentence, Mom.” Olivia glared and Cynthia smirked, while Hilary went back and forth between the two, trying to decide if she was awake or dreaming this. When Sylvia Strong walked past on the arm of her daughter, Greta Lang, she thought she might pass out with the excitement.

  “Nanna, did you see the cake?” Gracie piped up.

  “No, not yet,” Cynthia fibbed, playing dumb at her granddaughter’s excitement. “It was lovely to meet you Hilary, I am sure we will speak again later, but if not, then why don’t you come by for lunch tomorrow?” Grace was pulling her away by the arm, but she kept her attention firmly on her daughter’s new friend.

  “Oh, I—”

  “That’s a yes then, fantastic.” And with that, she was off and swanning her way through the guests, smiling and stopping to speak to a man who looked remarkably like George Clooney, with Grace urgently pulling her away.

  Hilary was speechless for a moment, staring at Olivia as she stood perfectly still, biting her bottom lip anxiously. “You couldn’t have given me the heads up?” she laughed. “Not even a little clue?”

  “I told you my name,” Olivia replied, laughing with her. “I am sorry. I forget that to other people she is someone...to me she is just Mom.” She shrugged and grabbed another two glasses of champagne from the waiter. “Shall I show you around?”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “And this, is my room,” Olivia said, turning the handle and opening the door to a large spacious room that looked out onto the back of the house. She blushed a little as she watched Hilary wander around take everything in.

  It overlooked the pool and the landscaped gardens. The tour of the house and gardens had been an eye-opening and time-consuming experience, albeit broken up a little by the small make out session in the wine cellar. And in all honesty, Hilary was not upset about missing most of the party if it meant time alone with a kissable Olivia Copeland.

  Hilary’s entire apartment would fit into some of the seven bedrooms. Even Grace’s bedroom was bigger than her own. Olivia’s room, however, was exactly what she expected in many ways: a large queen bed, wall-to-wall wardrobes and drawers. A huge, impressive dressing mirror, and a door off to the side that hid away the private bathroom. The décor, though, was not how Hilary imagined it would be. She had visions of pure white, minimalist and modern. But in fact, it was colourful and warm, a lot like Olivia. She liked it a lot.

  As she stood at the window looking out, trying to imagine a young Olivia running around the pool, jumping in and out with her friends, she felt the presence of her at her back. The warmth of fingertips and then palms resting on her shoulders brought her out of her daydream, and she leaned back into the touch.

  Wordlessly, Olivia moved around her until they were toe to toe, searching her face. “I like you, Hilary. I like you a lot.” She smiled as she leaned in, eyes open, fixed on the woman she was about to kiss, until their lips touched and her eyes closed slowly, lost in the moment as Hilary joined her in the kiss.

  Soft moans filled the air as the kiss became more passionate. Olivia’s hands were suddenly filled with hair, her grasp tightening as the connection between them grew. Kicking off her shoes, they stumbled backwards, fingertips pulling at clothes, zippers and buttons.

  The sound of laughter from downstairs brought a sudden halt to proceedings.

  “What about the party? Grace?” Hilary managed to get out as she gasped for air.

  “Are you kidding me? She is downstairs entertaining every celebrity in Hollywood,” Olivia chuckled before returning to her task. “We won’t be missed.” She grinned and let her dress fall away before pushing Hilary gently to the bed.

  Landing on top of her, she wasted no time, her mouth latching onto the soft skin of her throat.

  Revelling in the sensation, Hilary could only writhe beneath her. her own hands wandering and exploring the soft naked flesh on offer. Her senses were on overload, intoxicated by the smell of her. Olivia always smelled so good.

  “I feel so aroused when I am with you,” Olivia said, her voice low and breathy against Hilary’s ear. “I want to touch you,”

  “Oh, God,” Hilary moaned. The idea of Olivia touching her was just…everything in that moment. She was more than aroused, and when she felt the deftest of touches, her skirt sliding effortlessly up her legs, she knew that this was it, the moment they would take their relationship to the next level. It was all moving so fast. She wanted to draw it out, slow it down and enjoy it.

  She pressed her hand to Olivia’s shoulder and gently pushed, rolling them over and swapping positions. Straddling Olivia’s thighs, she reached for her hands. Her lips pressed harder as she took control of the kiss and pinned their hands to the bed, smiling into the kiss as she began gyrating her hips forward and backward against the prone Olivia beneath her. It was hot, and sexy, and they were both in the moment together.

  But as Hilary kissed a pathway down Olivia’s neck, she heard her whisper something that was barely audible.

  “What?” she asked quickly, not wanting to stop for a second in her task.

  “Get off,” Olivia whispered again, struggling to free her hands. “Please, get off. I don’t want this.” And when Hilary wasn’t quick enough, she shouted, “GET OFF.”

  Hilary let go instantly. Moving herself away as requested, she felt sick. Had she hurt her? “I – I’m sorry – I thought…did I hurt…”

  Olivia rolled away, her back to her. “Please, just leave, just go,” she said quietly.

  Adjusting her clothes, Hilary went over the last few minutes in her head again. What had she done? Olivia wouldn’t look at her. Instead she rolled off the bed and ran to the bathroom, leaving Hilary alone and confused.

  “What the…?” She ran a hand through her hair and blew out a breath, her eyes filling with tears. Sucking in a shaky breath, she got herself together and walked quietly towards the bathroom. Raising her hand to knock, she changed her mind when she heard Olivia sobbing. What the hell had happened?

  “Liv?” Her voice was a whisper. “Are you alright? I don’t know…” Her forehead rested against the door. “I’m going to go…I’m sorry.”

  She wiped her face and checked once more that her clothes were straightened before opening the door and leaving the room. The door closed behind her with a soft click that felt like somebody had banged a drum. Turning to her left, the hallway suddenly looked a mile long, but as she took each step forward, she speeded up, until suddenly she was at the top of the stairs looking down on a party filled with happy, smiling faces. She needed to get out of there as quickly as she could, but she took the steps one at a time and managed to not draw attention to herself, until she got to the bottom of the stairs and her worst nightmare happened.

  Cynthia Copeland called her name.

  Closing the space between them, the older woman frowned a little as she looked around Hilary for Olivia. “Is everything alright?” she asked, concerned that her daughter’s new friend looked distraught and Olivia was nowhere in sight.

  “I don’t know. She – she wants me to leave. So, thank you for a lovely evening. It was wonderful to have met you,” Hilary blurted before turning to walk away and leave this nightmare behind.

  “Hilary?” Cynthia reached out and gently touched her retreating shoulder. “She just needs…” It wasn’t her place to explain Olivia
’s love life. “…a friend?”

  Hilary had never been more humiliated than in this moment. She closed her eyes, composing herself before replying, “I hope she finds one.”

  And with that, Hilary ran out of the door.

  Cynthia picked up the phone and called down to the gate, arranging quickly for Hilary to be taken anywhere she wanted to go. She had no idea what had occurred, but judging by the smeared lipstick, she assumed something romantic had taken place, and if Olivia had just flipped, then she had to assume it was Ava-related, and not Hilary. She understood her own daughter better than her daughter ever thought she did, and right now, Cynthia would lay money that Olivia was kicking herself.

  Chapter Twenty

  Cynthia had learned her lesson a long time ago when Olivia had had a particularly bad day at school and she had tried to cajole it out of her: big mistake.

  Liv had rushed into the house in tears and locked herself in the bathroom, something she did regularly throughout her teens, and that was where Cynthia assumed she would be right now. There was no point in trying to speak to her while she was upset, and so Cynthia continued on with the party, but she had one eye on the stairs in case Olivia reappeared, or tried to leave. Her other eye was on the smaller object of her attention.

  She couldn’t help but smile as she caught sight of her grandchild entertaining several of her friends with a story about living in London. Gracie was such a joy to have around the house now. She had missed Olivia. It had always been just them, and when Olivia did exactly what she had always encouraged her to do, to go out there and be the woman she wanted to be, to grab the career she wanted, it had been the hardest thing Cynthia had ever dealt with. It had been the biggest performance of her life to pretend that she was happy about it. Now, she was back and Cynthia was loving it, but she was worried about her. Ava had certainly done a number on her heart and mind.

  Gracie lasted until almost nine P.M., at which point she fell asleep in the lap of one of Cynthia’s closest friends, John Scott, an old actor friend who looked just as exhausted. Cynthia scooped her up and carried her to her room.

  “Happy birthday, Nanna,” she mumbled as Cynthia tucked her in.

  Kissing her forehead, Cynthia smiled. “Goodnight, Darling Gracie.”

  “Grace,” she slurred before falling back to sleep again.

  “Oh, you have plenty of time to be Grace. Enjoy Gracie just a little bit longer,” Cynthia whispered before going back to the party.

  As the party came to an end, Cynthia waved goodbye to the last of her guests and turned towards the stairs. It had been a fun night on the whole, but now, as she glanced at the clock and looked upwards, she considered whether it was the time to speak to Olivia.

  Her own bedroom was furthest down the hallway. She had to pass Gracie’s room and Olivia’s to go to bed. The soft glow of the night light under Gracie’s door made her smile and she paused by the door, pushing it ajar to listen. All she heard was quiet snuffling and snoring. Gracie was sound asleep and hopefully dreaming of wonderful things to tell her all about in the morning. She pulled the door closed and moved on to her daughter’s. The light beneath the door suggested that she was still awake. She tapped gently against the wood and waited. When she heard no sound, she assumed Olivia was asleep. She was about to give up when she heard the soft shuffling of feet walking towards the door, followed by the gentle click of the door unlocking, but not opening. Cynthia reached out and turned the handle.

  Olivia was standing at the window, looking out into the darkness. Her arms were wrapped around herself in a protective hug.

  “Are you alright?” Cynthia asked, moving further into the room when Olivia didn’t answer. Her baby was hurting, and that was hurting her as her mother. If she ever got her hands on Ava Janko, there would be hell to pay.

  “Everything is ruined.” Olivia’s voice was barely audible, a melancholy lingering behind the words.

  “I’m sure once Hilary…”

  Olivia turned to face her, her arms tightening around herself. “I kissed her and then I…All I saw was Ava.” She shook her head and looked up at the ceiling. “She’s never going to speak to me again.” She turned back to face the window, staring out into the darkness.

  “I think she will. Given some…” Cynthia started, trying to diffuse the situation a little.

  “I made her leave, Mother,” Olivia answered. “I let her go.”

  Cynthia nodded. “I know. Does she know why?” She settled herself on the edge of the bed facing Olivia.

  “No.” She turned to face her mother, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  “Maybe you could explain?” Cynthia offered gently.

  “What do I say? ‘I am sorry I freaked out on you; my ex-girlfriend assaulted me and all I could see when you kissed me was her?’” Olivia crumbled; it was the first time she had ever put a label to it, the first time she had admitted to herself what it was. She fell to the floor and Cynthia rushed to her side, pulling her child into her arms.

  “I am so sorry that that happened to you,” she whispered, kissing the side of her head as she rocked her gently like she had done when she was a child. Olivia sobbed against her mother’s chest. “We’re going to get through this, okay? You and I, just like always.” She felt Olivia nodding. “Just like always.”

  She let her cry it out, and then, just like when she was a child, she got her into bed and climbed in beside her. And she was still there when the nightmare came.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Hilary’s night had ended around four in the morning. She’d finished her shifts and then hung around for a little while at the bar, trying to take her mind off of the events with Olivia, but in the end, she had just gone home.

  She had gone over and over the entire night. They were having fun, flirting and laughing. Olivia had kissed her, not the other way around. It had been Olivia who had taken things further – not that Hilary was complaining, she wanted that too, but it had definitely been instigated by Olivia, which was why it was so confusing.

  Hilary wanted to kiss her, to be kissed, and more if it was being offered, which it had been; she was sure of it. She thought that was what Olivia had wanted. Olivia had made a move on her and she had reciprocated, gotten into it. God, how nice it was when they rolled over together and she could kiss her.

  Maybe that was it. Maybe Olivia was one of those control freaks who only liked to touch, but that didn’t make sense either. They had held hands and kissed before, outside of the bar in Malibu. And she didn’t have to be so rude about it. “Get off me.” She heard those words over and over in her head, and each time it made her feel sick. Olivia was panicked, there was fear in her voice, but fear of what? Of her? She hadn’t done anything to cause Olivia to fear her.

  It made her feel shitty. She felt dirty, as though she had done something awful to Olivia, and even though she had no knowledge of what it was, it had to have been bad for Olivia to react the way she did.

  She gave up trying to sleep and got up. Wandering the apartment, she gathered her things, things she would need while she lay on the couch for the rest of the day feeling sorry for herself.

  Pulling the comforter off of the bed, she dragged it behind her and deposited it on the couch in readiness. Her phone had been charging on the counter, so she grabbed that too while the kettle boiled and her bread toasted. She’d not been this miserable since Gemma.

  With her toast and hot chocolate made, she retreated back to the couch and snuggled down, flipping between channels on the TV until she found something semi-decent to watch, though she didn’t pay any attention to it.

  Her phone rang and she picked it up, looked at the screen, and then put it back down again. She couldn’t deal with her sister today. Debbie was bossy. Not her fault; she was the eldest. It had fallen on her to help look after the others when their mother passed and Dad needed to work. And one thing that Hilary knew about Debbie was that she could pick up on a mood within her sisters in an instant, which me
ant Hilary was not answering the phone. Instead, she sipped her hot chocolate and watched another episode of Judge Judy.

  ~MB~

  Olivia woke to find her mother was already up, not that she expected anything else; her mother had always been an early riser.

  She crawled out of bed and dragged herself into the shower. Tilting her head back, she let the water wash over her, the power jets sufficiently massaging her as she thought back to the night before and how terribly she had treated Hilary.

  Sweet, charming, kind and funny, Hilary.

  She felt awful. Hilary had done nothing more but choose the wrong moment in time to get involved with her. Not that it was so much Hilary’s choice; Olivia herself had been the instigator of most of it. She had willingly given permission for Hilary to touch her, she had wanted to make love. She remembered looking at the blonde and wanting her, wanting to feel her. She had wanted to be enjoyed by her, to have her imprint herself on her skin and wake up this morning in her arms. That was what she remembered wanting, but it had all gone so wrong the minute their roles reversed and she felt the weight on top of her, her hands held in place.

  She had panicked, fear bubbling to the surface like lava, hot and fluid filling the gaps in the parts of her brain that she had tried to ignore. She felt dirty and ashamed, and used. She poured more soap onto the washcloth and scrubbed her skin.

  ~MB~

  “French toast, maple syrup, and bacon,” Cynthia Copeland said as Olivia came into the kitchen. She looked tired. Not surprising after the terrible nights sleep. Smiling sadly at her mother, she turned towards her child and changed the smile to something brighter.

  Gracie held up her fork, a large piece of bread on the spikes. “Look Mummy, Nanna made my favourite.”

  “Hey baby, I thought your favourite was Coco Pops?” She kissed the side of Gracie’s head and took a seat next to her. “Thanks, Mom, but I’m not that hungry.” She picked up the coffee pot and filled a cup.