On the Record

by K. A. Linde

  Jamie bit her lip in concern, but Liz turned her back on her. She knew that she should probably talk to Hayden about Calleigh. She had been curious about it since May, when Calleigh had confronted the two of them outside of a club in Raleigh, and it had only intensified since they had started dating. Sure, it was old news. Calleigh and Hayden were over and done with, but the thought of them together made her sick. The thought of Calleigh staying close by because she wanted to be near Hayden made it even worse.

  “This way,” Hayden said, moving ahead of her. She followed him and they walked into another room. A band was playing and people were dancing around, but it wasn’t as packed as the dance floor she had been heading for. Liz started to veer toward the center of the room, but Hayden tucked her arm into his and walked her to a far wall. He circled her and pushed her back against the wall softly.

  “What did Jamie say?” he asked with a sigh.

  “What?” Liz asked, playing dumb. She didn’t want to talk about this. She just wanted to go dance and forget.

  “I seriously hate leaving her alone with people. Her big mouth always manages to say the exact wrong thing. And she said something to you, didn’t she?”

  “Hayden, it doesn’t matter.” She tried to put a smile back on her face and push away from the wall, but he stopped her with a sharp kiss on the mouth.

  “It matters,” he breathed when he pulled back. “I haven’t seen your gorgeous self in three weeks. I couldn’t care less about the party. I don’t like to see you unhappy. And I can’t make it better if you don’t talk to me.”

  Liz swallowed. “You brought Calleigh here last year.”

  Hayden’s brow furrowed. “So?”

  “You told me it wasn’t serious. And yet she keeps coming back up.”

  “It wasn’t serious,” he said calmly, brushing a hand back through his hair.

  “Okay,” Liz said with a shrug.

  “Is something else wrong?”

  “I just . . . I must have been oblivious last year when she was at school. I didn’t even know you guys were involved. And now I feel like I’m blindsided by her memory at every corner,” she told him honestly. “And then you said it wasn’t serious, but you brought her here and it makes me think maybe . . . we’re not that serious.”

  Since when had she pushed for it to become more serious?

  “Hey,” he said, placing his hand under her chin and tilting her head up to look at him. “It wasn’t serious with Calleigh. She wanted more than I did. It is serious with you and that’s what matters. That’s all that matters.”

  Liz stared up into those compelling hazel eyes in the darkness. They were almost brown with intensity. He meant every single word. She didn’t know why she had gotten so flustered about the whole thing. Calleigh got under her skin; that was for sure. But Hayden . . . the thought of this relationship with Hayden being a sham was even worse. It made her heart constrict to realize how much he really meant to her. They had been dating for nearly two months now, and while she had liked him for much longer, she hadn’t even realized that she had given away so much of her heart.

  Calleigh was still in Hayden’s life as little as Brady was in hers. And it wouldn’t be fair to hold it against him when she was still trying to get her own feelings under control.

  “I like that we can talk about these things, Liz,” he told her. “I don’t like to bottle up my feelings, and I don’t want you to feel like I’m ever hiding anything from you. I’ll always tell you everything.”

  “I know,” she said, pushing his words away. There were too many things in her past that she couldn’t tell him about. She had been hiding from Brady and she wasn’t about to share that secret. Not now . . . maybe not ever.

  Hayden’s hands found the curve of her waist and slid down to her hips. He gripped her through the thin material of her dress, and Liz leaned forward into him. His mouth came down on hers softly at first, gaining momentum as he rested her back against the wall again. Her hands dug into his black dress shirt, willing him to keep going.

  Their tongues volleyed and she could feel her own breathing quicken. It had been so long since she had gotten completely wrapped up in a kiss. This new level of passion seemed to encase them like a cocoon.

  Their bodies were pressed flush together, and she released a moan when he took a breath. She could feel the outline of him through his pants, and she pushed her pelvis up against him. His eyes shut and he groaned deep in his throat.

  “Lizzie,” he said, fighting for words. “We’re in public.”

  A thrill shot through her spine at the possibilities. The thought of people watching them should have made her stiff and uncomfortable, but it didn’t. It made her want to keep going. When her last relationship had been completely predicated on secrecy, it was exhilarating to have these moments.

  “So?” she whispered.

  She dropped her hands to the waistline of his pants and teased her fingertips along the material. His quick intake of breath told her more than his words ever could. She didn’t know how ready she was to push the limits, but the look of lust on his face sure made her want to continue.

  “I’m not . . . inclined to . . .” He stopped speaking when her hand moved a little farther south. “Lizzie.”

  The way he said it was an encouragement rather than a reprimand. But when her hand slipped farther down the front of his pants and skimmed the outline of his dick, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her away. His breathing was uneven.

  “I want you,” he told her simply. “But not here . . . not like this.”

  She sighed, disappointment hitting her. She quickly covered it up. He was right. They shouldn’t do this here anyway. “Okay,” she said. He released her hand and she dropped both of them to her sides.

  He kissed her once more on her lips before moving out onto the dance floor to find their friends. Meredith was grinding on a guy hot enough to be a model, and it looked a bit like she might not be returning with them. Jamie squealed when she saw them, and tried to yell over the music, but Liz couldn’t hear anything. They all danced until sweat dotted their foreheads, alcohol coursed through their veins, and their legs and lungs burned.

  As the evening came to the apex, champagne began to be passed out among the attendees and everyone cheered the countdown to midnight as they watched the ball drop in Times Square.

  10, 9, 8 . . .

  Hayden grabbed Liz around her waist and they raised their champagne flutes high.

  7, 6, 5 . . .

  Jamie sloshed half of her glass on the floor, but just laughed hysterically and leaned into James. He was sober and practically holding her upright.

  4, 3, 2 . . .

  Meredith was already making out with her model guy, their champagne nowhere in sight.

  1 . . .

  The entire ballroom erupted with applause, and balloons rained down on them from all directions. Liz released the laugh that bubbled up inside of her as the ball hit the bottom, ringing in the New Year. Hayden bent down and lowered his lips to hers. Their earlier discussion lost from her mind, she reveled in the feel of his lips on hers, knowing it was the very first thing she would remember about this year.

  “Happy New Year, Lizzie,” he whispered, resting his forehead against hers.

  “Happy New Year, Hayden.”

  Chapter 4

  VISION

  Everyone except James awoke with a hangover from hell. Apparently mixing champagne, vodka, and tequila was not a good idea. Ever.

  Liz was glad that she didn’t have to do anything but lounge around in the spare bedroom with Hayden until the art opening. Jamie was running around the house like a chicken with her head cut off, despite the constant expletives about how terrible she felt. James just followed behind her, helping where he could, and chuckling softly under his breath, reminding her that he had told her not to drink so much.

  Hayden channel surfed, stopping every few stations to see what was playing. His other arm was wrapped around Liz’s waist,
and she leaned into his chest, watching the shows flash by. It was nice to just nurse her headache with his body pressed against hers.

  He finally stopped on a news network and tossed the remote onto the nightstand. Liz stared forward indifferently. She hadn’t been paying attention to the news since she was on break. It had been a reprieve from her day job. She loved journalism and couldn’t wait to start her career as a reporter, but sometimes it was nice to forget that anything else existed in the world.

  Hayden kissed the top of her hair and stroked it back with his hand. She sighed, wishing she could have done this all break, minus the hangover, of course.

  As the media recapped some of the biggest New Year’s Eve parties and the gorgeous gowns, images of politicians and their dates flashed before her on the television screen. Most of the men were in plain black tuxes, but the women’s gowns definitely stole the show. Some of the older wives were drab and boring, but others looked runway ready.

  And then he appeared on the screen. Her heart plummeted. She didn’t care how ridiculous it was, but she couldn’t seem to avoid Brady Maxwell. Even here, when she was safely wrapped up in Hayden’s arms, Brady was showcased on the news. Standing next to him was a diminutive brunette sheathed in layers of emerald-green silk that only accented her tan skin. They said the creation was a three-thousand-dollar Oscar de la Renta dress—one of the best they had seen all night.

  As quickly as Brady was there, he was gone. The girl hardly mattered. Liz was sure it was just another one of the women Heather used for his public appearances. But he’d looked so . . . happy. It was wrong for her to be sad about that. She was dating Hayden, and they’d had a good time last night, but still she couldn’t shake the feeling.

  Liz rolled away from Hayden and off the bed. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Hey,” he said, reaching out and grabbing her hand. She turned back to face him. “Hurry back.”

  She smiled softly and nodded. “Just using the restroom.”

  He released her reluctantly, and she scurried down the hall and into the bathroom. She shut the door and locked it before sinking helplessly to the floor. Tears sprang to her eyes fast and hot. A sob racked her chest and she slapped her hand over her mouth.

  No.

  No. No. No. No. No.

  She would not cry over Brady. She would not.

  No matter how many times she had told herself all semester that she wouldn’t cry over Brady Maxwell, the man still brought her to tears.

  It had been months. They were long over. Brady probably didn’t even think about her anymore. And yet the thought of walking away from him still made her feel like someone was repeatedly beating the shit out of her.

  She had made the right choice. Brady hadn’t been willing to give her what she needed, because she couldn’t continue with their relationship as a secret and he wouldn’t budge on that. So she refused to let him choose between her and the campaign, and made the choice for him. Now she knew that Hayden was the right choice. He was sensible, attentive, handsome, caring, and he would never hide her. He was as fucking perfect as Victoria described him.

  But still . . . he wasn’t Brady.

  Liz cringed just thinking that thought, but it was the truth. In some ways that was a good thing. She couldn’t ever see Hayden bringing her to gut-wrenching tears, but Brady was only capable of that because he elicited such strong emotions from her.

  That only made the tears come harder.

  Why couldn’t she just be rid of Brady? Why did he have to keep popping up everywhere? She wanted him to plague someone else’s life, because she couldn’t keep going with her heart perpetually shredded.

  She knew that she had been in the bathroom too long, but she couldn’t leave without composing herself. Taking a deep breath, she flushed the toilet even though she hadn’t used it and then turned the faucet on. She splashed her face a couple times and hoped the red splotches disappeared before Hayden saw her. There wasn’t much more she could do without makeup.

  Praying that Hayden wouldn’t say anything, but knowing he likely would, Liz left the bathroom and returned to the bedroom. As she expected, he arched an eyebrow when she entered the room and he saw her puffy face, eyes red-rimmed from tears.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, pushing himself out of bed and standing hastily.

  “Yeah. I’m okay.” She didn’t want to lie to him, but she couldn’t tell him the truth. Not yet. He couldn’t know about Brady. What would he think about her? What would he think about both of them?

  She already knew that he didn’t like Brady. He had confessed that he had voted for his opponent in both the primary and the election. Their joke about Brady being “our politician” was only because that had been her first press conference.

  No, she couldn’t tell him. It was still too fresh. Plus, Brady had just won. He wasn’t even inducted into Congress yet. She couldn’t risk news of their relationship getting out. Any scandal was a problem for a politician, but one with a reporter seven years younger who wrote negative articles about him . . . ? She could just see their relationship plastered on headlines and following him around the rest of his career. Not to mention it killed her credibility as a journalist, risking her job as much as his.

  “You look like you’ve been crying,” Hayden said.

  “I just don’t feel well.” There. That was the truth. “Hangover.”

  Hayden’s lips tugged down at the corner. “Do you need me to get you some medicine?”

  “Nah. I think I’m just going to lie back down,” she said, walking to the bed. “Come lie with me?”

  Maybe it was wrong to take comfort in Hayden’s arms, but she wouldn’t find comfort anywhere else.

  A couple hours later, Liz walked into Jamie’s art expo. Her hangover had finally subsided and she had changed into a burgundy strapless dress that hugged her curves, paired with a black cardigan and the same heels from last night.

  Liz had never been to an art exhibition before, so she only had a vague idea of what to expect. She assumed the gallery would look sort of like a museum, with high ceilings and winding hallways that led to different exhibits. She didn’t think she would quite get what the artist was trying to convey. But then again, she didn’t always get Jamie either.

  Her vision wasn’t too far off. The room was stark white, with three walls dividing the paintings into the different types of work Jamie was showcasing. Refreshments were set up next to a bar, and a small line had already formed. Everyone was drinking wine or champagne, nothing hard, and certainly not beer. Most of the people in attendance were in suits and nice dresses. Liz was glad she had gone with her burgundy dress.

  “Let’s tell Jamie we’re here,” Hayden whispered.

  Jamie had left for the showcase over an hour before them to prepare. Liz wondered if it was just jitters.

  “Liz! Hayden!” Jamie cried as soon as they made it through her welcome line. “It’s so good to see you!”

  The best part about Hayden’s sister was that she was completely and entirely genuine. It didn’t matter that they were staying at her apartment and she had seen them an hour ago, Jamie was just as excited to have them here. Maybe even more excited, since this really meant something to her.

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Liz told her.

  “Feel free to mingle around. I have so many new pieces that you haven’t seen,” Jamie told them.

  “My sister, the artist,” Hayden said with a shake of his head.

  “Don’t listen to Hayden when you go through the displays,” Jamie said, smacking him on the arm. “He doesn’t appreciate art. He once told me it all looked the same. How exactly can a portrait and a landscape look the same?”

  Liz chuckled softy. That sounded like the Hayden she knew. He was so . . . square. Everything had a place and an order. His world was ruled by that. Art was ruled by no one, and it explained why he didn’t understand it.

  “I’ll just get us some alcohol to dull the pain of staring at Jamie�
��s vision of the world on every wall,” Hayden joked. “Go ahead and look around.” He kissed her cheek before giving his sister a bemused look and walking over to the bar.

  “Don’t listen to his condescension any more than I do,” Jamie said in an incredibly upbeat tone. “We’ve been having these discussions since we were kids and he preferred to count blocks while I liked to finger paint the ones he was using and call it art.”

  “I can totally see that happening,” Liz said, covering her mouth with her hand to try to hold back the laughter bubbling up in her.

  “Now go! Go have a good time. I’ll see you later,” Jamie said, ushering her into the exhibit.

  Liz followed the crowd into the first room and a huge smile broke out on her face. In a way, Hayden was right: Jamie’s vision of the world was artfully reflected back to them in every single picture. She was such an exhilarating person to be around. So different from her brother, yet they were more similar than either would admit. Both could hold an audience with just a smile, and wow a crowd with their unique abilities.

  She wanted to see the other two rooms before taking a closer look, so she squeezed past the crowd and into the next section. Liz couldn’t pretend to know much about art, but she did know that these paintings were beautiful.

  Jamie used color and light to create the tone and mood in her paintings. Some were landscapes, others portraits; but each one of them was more awe-inspiring than the next, until Liz found that she couldn’t even compare the splendor of one to another. Liz could write, and the written word could move people to tears or cause them to go to war. But if a picture was worth a thousand words, than Jamie’s were worth ten times that. No wonder she was being thrust into such prominent circles.

  As she walked into the last room, what struck Liz wasn’t the brilliant paintings, though they certainly were incredible, but rather the person standing at the center of the room. She had met the woman only once, but she had made an impression that Liz would surely never forget. From her perfectly coifed platinum-blond hair, to the diamonds in her ears and around her throat, to the excessively expensive dress on her fragile frame, there was no doubt in Liz’s mind that she was staring at Clay Maxwell’s girlfriend, Andrea.