Hollywood Heartbreak

by C. J. Duggan

  ‘You alright?’

  All I could do was cough and wheeze as I tried to climb up Jay’s torso.

  ‘It’s okay, I got you.’

  Jay dragged me out of the pool and I collapsed, wincing, onto the concrete, still warm from the day’s sun. I heard voices from above and I wasn’t completely sure that I wasn’t, in fact, dead, but then the very real feeling of Sorscha licking the salty droplets off my cheek snapped me back into reality.

  ‘She’s alright,’ Jay shouted up to a balcony.

  I opened my eyes, blinking through blurry, water-logged vision to see that I had quite the audience. A mixture of confused and angry faces: some seemed concerned but the majority seemed to wish I had drowned, and quietly.

  ‘Sorry,’ I croaked. Barely audible.

  ‘It’s okay, everyone, go back to bed,’ Jay called out, and a man called back something that didn’t sound all that friendly, but Jay’s attention moved back to me, cupping my cheeks and checking my eyes for signs of trauma.

  ‘Abby, can you hear me?’

  I moaned because that’s all I could do, and I wasn’t too worried about being quiet about it.

  ‘Where does it hurt?’

  ‘E-everywhere.’

  Jay’s hands were gently skimming over me, examining with expert ease, until he disappointingly came to a conclusion.

  All I could think about was how I had to see Ziggy tomorrow. A neck brace and a wheelchair was not going to be a good look. Seriously, why was life a cakewalk for some and a giant train wreck for me?

  ‘I think you’ll live.’

  ‘What?’ I squinted up at him.

  ‘On the plus side, you’re not orange anymore – you’re more of a lobster red,’ he said, lifting up my dress to show my red-raw thighs. I could only imagine what my stomach looked like after my epic, mortifying belly-whacker.

  ‘Oh, great!’ I said, lifting myself onto my elbows, wincing and surveying the damage.

  ‘Don’t worry, it will go, it’ll probably have more of a purplish hue tomorrow.’

  My chin began to tremble as the bruising of my ego came into full bloom. I lay in the courtyard in a wet, twisted mess, reflecting on my disastrous existence, and I began to sob in the worst possible way: the drunken girl sob. I covered my eyes with my arm, wishing that Jay would just leave me here.

  ‘Hey, come on.’ Jay pulled my arm away. ‘You’re alright, probably just in a bit of shock. Come on, let’s get you home.’ My protests fell on deaf ears as Jay, without apology, yanked me out of my puddle of saltwater and tears and, without giving me a moment to gain my land legs, lifted me up into his arms, forcing me to wrap mine around his neck to find purchase.

  ‘It’s okay, I got you.’

  He said those same words again and I believed him. I felt safe in his arms, rock solid as he carried me across the courtyard and up the stairs as if I weighed nothing. I wasn’t overly comfortable, but I felt comforted. I felt like I had been hit by a bus and, with the alcohol wearing off, I was well aware of how Jay’s warm breath felt on my cheek, and the feel of his skin under my hands, and the way his heart beat so rapidly. I felt it all; it was a definite distraction from feeling like a drowned rat.

  Jay unlocked his door with such ease it made me wonder if he made a habit of carrying girls to his condo. Wait a minute – Jay’s door? Jay’s condo?

  I lifted my head, eyes widening at the sight of Jay’s door slamming behind us, and being carried down a hallway that did not belong to me. I couldn’t find the words of protest. I was totally void of thought and speech, especially when he carried me past the kitchen and plonked me on the leather couch.

  ‘I’m all wet,’ I managed, worried about creating a puddle in his sleek bachelor pad.

  ‘So am I,’ he said with a laugh. I looked down at his wet clothes, in particular the now-sheer white shirt that clung to every curve of his ripped body. I kind of felt bad that I was responsible for his sodden state but, staring up at him, appreciating just how good he looked wet, I can’t say that I was suffering from a huge amount of regret.

  He disappeared through a doorway, switching on the light to reveal his bedroom. A large black leather–framed bed, firmly made, without a thing out of place. It was a fleeting look at best but my interest was certainly piqued by this glimpse into his world. All too quickly he switched off the light and came back to me with a towel and T-shirt.

  ‘Bathroom’s there if you want to get out of your wet clothes.’

  I blinked, confused, a wry smile forming. ‘My clothes are literally through that wall.’

  Jay cocked a knowing brow. ‘Can you be trusted?’

  I didn’t know the answer to that – all I knew was that I felt something, sitting here in Jay’s company, and I was enjoying being under his watchful eye.

  ‘Do you think I might have concussion?’ Was that another reason he was keeping watch?

  ‘I think you might have more chance of alcohol poisoning.’

  My eyes squinted. ‘Oh, ha-bloody-ha.’

  Jay smiled broadly. ‘Bathroom,’ he pointed.

  I rinsed the saltwater from my hair over the tub, dabbing a bit of coconut-scented conditioner at the ends to help untangle the matted mess. Jay’s black T-shirt swam on me, resting just above my knees. I took the black material belt from my skirt and loosely tied it around my waist; from a distance it looked like I had a dress on, but the fact that I was wearing no underwear made it feel very wrong. But it’s not like I would be staying long – this was merely a neighbourly formality.

  I opened the bathroom door, taking small, tentative steps and wincing at the bruising that was no doubt ready to make an appearance. I was momentarily distracted from my pain by the delicious smell of chilli as Jay appeared from the kitchen with bowl and spoon, a slice of bread sitting on top. Much to my disappointment, he had changed into a fresh T-shirt and a dry pair of jeans, ending the wet fantasy image that was burned into my memory.

  ‘Enjoy,’ he said, moving to the coffee table and placing it down, pulling the tea towel from his shoulder and placing it next to the bowl. He stood back, looking rather pleased with himself.

  My nose creased, unable to hide my distaste for anything spicy. I edged forward and peered into the bowl. ‘Are you having some?’

  ‘Maybe later.’

  ‘Later? What, for breakfast?’ I laughed, then I made a mental note not to do that again – it hurt too much.

  ‘I don’t sleep much, so yeah, maybe.’

  I winced as I took a seat, making sure to pull the tee down so as not to inadvertently flash Jay any more than I already had.

  ‘You don’t sleep?’

  ‘Very rarely.’

  ‘What, are you like an insomniac or something?’

  ‘Maybe. I think it’s more to do with late nights and the nature of my work.’

  ‘Is that why you do laps of a night?’ I said, tentatively loading a forkful of chilli into my mouth. I paused mid-chew, realising I had nearly confessed my new favourite ritual, the night perve. My cheeks went red; I hoped I could blame the chilli.

  ‘So, what do you think?’

  Jay sat on the single chair opposite me, nervous, looking like a MasterChef contestant serving a haemorrhaging apple strudel to the judges. It was quite endearing to see someone who was usually so cocksure seem a little doubtful. What was more surprising was that I actually enjoyed the chilli.

  ‘It’s really good.’

  ‘Really?’ Jay’s brows rose in surprise.

  ‘Really, like, really, really good. Not too hot, just tasty.’

  ‘You’re not just saying that because I saved your life?’

  I sighed. ‘Another thing I will never live down.’

  Jay laughed. ‘It’s okay, I won’t tell, but be warned: the gossip mill runs overtime in these condominiums. By morning, the story will be that you pulled me out of the water and gave me the kiss of life.’

  ‘I am well used to the truth being twisted,’ I said, dunking my bread i
nto the spicy juices.

  ‘All the more reason to align yourself with the right people if you’re going to start afresh here.’

  ‘Yeah, well, after tonight I am convinced that the #LAfamily are not my people.’

  ‘So you make your own people.’

  ‘And, pray tell, who are your people? Definitely not actors.’

  Jay relaxed in his chair, linking his hands behind his head in deep thought.

  ‘I wouldn’t have imagined there was much to think about? Surely the answer to that is a resounding no,’ I mused.

  ‘What does it matter what I think of actors?’

  It was an interesting question; it shouldn’t matter and yet it did. I didn’t want anyone thinking I was this giant cliché, moving here in the search of fame and fortune. It wasn’t about that really. I mean, it would be nice, but just to be able to do what I love – that was the real dream. That was the reward. What did it matter if someone thought it was egotistical? For me it wasn’t about being the centre of attention, it was the art form itself, the transforming, the world building – it was the ultimate adrenaline rush.

  ‘It doesn’t,’ I said, finishing the last of the chilli and resisting the urge to lick the bowl. Best save some dignity tonight, if there was any left.

  ‘You done?’

  ‘Yes, thanks.’ I was tempted to compliment the dish again, but I didn’t want him to get too big a head.

  ‘Hey, Jay, do you have a bag I could put my wet things in?’ I called out, making my way back to the bathroom where my clothes were hanging over the bath. I gathered them up and wrung the excess drippage into the sink, before folding them and looking at my reflection in the mirror. I was definitely flushed: it broke through the still very unnatural glow on my skin and the lighting certainly didn’t help. I ran the tap, bathing my face and rinsing my mouth out with a liberal helping of Jay’s toothpaste to cool the subtle burn of the chilli.

  Without thinking I opened the mirrored cabinet, not exactly sure what I was looking for – some remnants of an ex-girlfriend maybe. ‘Ooh, cologne.’ I took a sample of Hugo Boss from the shelf and sniffed. Yep, smelt just like Jay, clean and crisp. There was floss and mouthwash, too; no wonder his teeth were so perfect – oral hygiene was obviously very important. Deodorant, aspirin, no bottles stating, ‘Take one a day and if axe murdering persists see a doctor.’ So that’s always a plus. Much like his condo, everything was in its place, perfectly aligned and …

  ‘Here.’

  I jumped, slamming the cabinet shut and looking, stunned, at Jay’s reflection, holding out a plastic bag.

  ‘Oh, I was just …’

  ‘Snooping.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Find anything?’

  ‘I was going to check your side tables next, that’s probably where all the good stuff is kept.’

  Jay broke out into a wide, immaculate smile. ‘How did you know?’

  I shrugged. ‘Just a guess.’

  I had a sudden image of what might be in his drawers, the drawers of a strapping, young, single man in West Hollywood, surrounded by beautiful people – a long line of condoms, no doubt. Unlike my bedside drawer, which was filled with empty chocolate wrappers and desperation.

  I quickly took the bag from him, blinking out of my wayward thoughts.

  ‘Thanks,’ I said, turning and shoving my sodden clothes into the bag.

  Feeling Jay’s eyes on me, I lifted my gaze to his in the reflection of the mirror. His smile was gone, as if he, too, had realised how close we were in this small space, so close I could feel the heat of him through my T-shirt. My mind was wandering again, thinking about how easy it would be to break away from his eyes, to turn to him … So I did, slowly facing him, breathing deeper and feeling my body burn with a feeling that had absolutely nothing to do with the chilli.

  Jay’s mouth was so lush. I had noticed it before, but being as close as I was now, the air thick with a new kind of tension, I really, really noticed, and wondered what it might feel like. I swallowed hard, knowing I was staring at his mouth, making no attempt to hide the fact. What was he thinking about? My blotchy skin, half-dried hair and the attractive makeshift tee-dress I had fashioned? I doubt very much that he would be thinking about my bedside –

  Jay kissed me.

  Stepping forward, cupping my face, his mouth crushed against mine, and I finally got to experience exactly what his lips felt like and, oh my God, they were mind-splinteringly good, searing across mine, capturing, pressing, burning. Any doubt was completely obliterated in that moment as my fingers scrunched the back of his T-shirt, pulling him closer, as he pressed me against the vanity, the hard corner digging into my lower back.

  Jay broke for a second, smiling and moving his head to the side to access my mouth better as his tongue reacted to my eagerness. He slipped his fingers into my belt, twisting and pulling me more urgently into his kiss. My T-shirt shifted up my thighs, but I was so lost in the moment I cared little that there was no barrier between us. He lifted me onto the sink and moved into the space between my legs, deepening his kiss.

  Oh God, this was bad, very bad. My bare skin felt so cool on the marble top, my legs wrapped around Jay’s waist to keep my balance as the denim of his jeans rubbed a delicious kind of friction, making me gasp.

  Jay stilled. ‘Sorry, did I hurt you?’

  He gently touched my side, thinking I may very well be broken, unaware of the real reason for my gasp, and I certainly wasn’t going to tell him. He was going to find out soon enough, especially the way his hands were sliding back and forth over my thighs, causing my skin to prickle. I wanted him to go higher, but I also knew how deadly that would be.

  I should really call it a night. Thank him for his companionship and hospitality and just get out while the going was good. But after just a little longer of kissing his mouth … After all, it was only a kiss – a kiss was harmless, a bit of fun, this I could do until, uhhhh …

  Jay slid his hand under the hem of my tee only to discover exactly what wasn’t there. He paused, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, but he didn’t say a word; instead, his hands simply squeezed my bare butt as his mouth found mine once again, this time more fevered. The pressure between my thighs was heavier and more distracting, feeling how hard he was in his denim, rubbing against me. Knowing what he knew now, I wondered if he would explore more, but he didn’t. He simply cupped my hips to lock me in place, and as he kissed me I could feel his fingers indent my skin. I was going to have to worry about more than abdominal bruising in the morning – I was going to be branded by Jay – but I didn’t mind. He was being so good, so controlled, simply kissing me in a way that had me begging for more, stirring up other feelings and robbing me of all my sanity.

  As much as I wanted to keep telling myself this was just a kiss, it was not enough. Gone was any form of bashfulness as I pulled his firm grip from my hip, and guided it around to the front, pushing his hand between my thighs and allowing him in. To hell with first base. I blamed his lips, that tongue for seducing me into a wanton mess, breathing hard against his mouth as he slid his fingers inside me with ease. So hot and wet to his touch, pressing into him as he looked into my eyes, his own breath ragged, the friction building as he pumped and I rocked and our voices echoed in the bathroom. I had never been so happy to get a fake tan – it had led me to Mediterranean cocktails, to the pool, to right here, with no knickers and Jay between my legs. Nothing else might come of this but utter mortification and awkwardness between us come the light of day, but, by God, I was about to fall apart right now.

  Grasping his shoulders and rocking into his hand, I was going to come, and I told Jay as much over and over again, my hand gripping the edge of the vanity and sending the toothbrush and aftershave flying as I fell back against the mirror.

  Watching Jay, I pressed my head against the mirror, my scream echoing in the tiled room so loud that I figured I had woken the neighbours for the second time tonight. And as my screams peter
ed out, Jay didn’t let up, pushing me past the point of madness. I gripped his arm and pulled it away, unable to take it anymore. I distracted him with my mouth, sucking in his beautifully lush bottom lip, and giving it a nip, suspecting that might bring him back to me. And it did, with a blinding smile.

  Jay moved back a little, but he never took his eyes from mine. I felt limp, drunk, but this was so much better than any cocktail. Gone was any thought of pain, only a rich, sated afterglow as Jay helped me slide off the vanity to stand on shaky legs. If he could do that with his hand and his mouth, what else could he do?

  If I looked him in the eyes for long enough, would he guess all the things I wanted him to do to me? Maybe it was the post-orgasmic comedown, but if he could read my mind, I don’t think we would be standing here right now. He would have spun me around, hitched up my shirt and taken me from behind. If that was what he wanted, I wouldn’t fight it – I would bloody well welcome it.

  Yep, utter madness. He needed to make the first move, because clearly my mind was in the gutter. He needed to be the sensible one, and thank God he was, moving away instead of having his way with me. He bent to pick up all the items scattered across the floor, including my bag of clothes. I tucked my hair behind my ears; the sight of the carnage on the bathroom floor made me blush. Did I do this, in my state of unadulterated bliss? Jesus.

  Jay didn’t seem fussed, though; if anything, he seemed rather pleased with himself. It made me wish that maybe he hadn’t been so bloody clever, or me so willing. I cleared my throat, adjusting my belt and trying to appear cool and whatever.

  ‘What time is it?’

  ‘It must be nearly two.’

  ‘Shit, I better go,’ I said, grabbing the bag and tying a knot in it as a means to distract me from bigger things – like Jay’s eyes on me, or the very present hard-on he was trying to disguise with his shirt. Now I was the one who was pleased with herself. Yep, I did that.