Porn Star

by Lola Cherry

  “I’ve been dreaming about you for days. I couldn’t understand why you didn’t respond to my texts.”

  “I only got them when I came home. I was standing outside my car and could hear you talking to those guys.”

  I’m still so euphoric it takes me a moment to work out what he’s talking about. Then I remember Joseph asking me out, and Bebe’s overenthusiastic response.

  “You heard that?” I ask. My hand is still cupped against his cheek. His expression seems so vulnerable I want to pull his face to my chest.

  “I heard you agree to go out with that dick.”

  I begin to understand. That wasn’t just him giving me pleasure. He was marking his territory.

  “I didn’t agree to anything.” I keep my voice soft, my gaze never wavering. “That was my stepsister. There’s no way in hell I ever want to go out to dinner with him.”

  I stand up on my tiptoes, my lips brushing against his as I try to find a way to tell him how I feel. It’s my turn to feel vulnerable, my nakedness making me feel less exposed than my emotions. I bury my face in his chest as I try to put it into words.

  After a few moments, I lift my head up and cup his face with both my hands, feeling the stubble graze my palms. I feel an intense desire to explain the emotions he brings out in me.

  “I really like you, Carter.” Now I’m more exposed than ever, but it feels good to let it out, regardless of his response. “I don’t want to go out with anybody else, much less fuck some other guy.”

  He pulls back, running his hands through his hair. I watch as emotion wrestles hold of his features. “Christ, it isn’t meant to be like this.”

  “Like what?”

  He shakes his head. “I fuck for a living. What the hell are you doing here?”

  I swallow hard. “Don’t talk like that.”

  “I’m just speaking the truth.”

  “You’re more than just a cock.” I blush when I say the word. “You’re a person. Don’t you think you deserve to be loved?”

  “I can’t offer you anything.” His voice is low. Almost a warning. “You should just get out while you can.”

  My throat tightens. “I don’t want anything. Just you.”

  His face hardens. “You want me?”

  “Yes.”

  He nods. “Okay, let’s go over to your place and tell your parents.”

  My chest tightens with panic. “I can’t … not yet. They’ll freak.”

  “Are you embarrassed of me?”

  I can’t breathe properly. I lick my dry lips and try to find the words. There’s nothing I can say that won’t hurt. Him and me. “I just need time.”

  He laughs. It’s bitter and low and cuts me hard. “You didn’t have a problem having those other guys meet your parents.”

  “It was nothing. I told you that.”

  “And what am I? Am I nothing, too? Just a stud to get the princess off? A little downtown fun while you get your education?”

  I shake my head. “You know I’m not like that.”

  “Then take me to meet your parents.” He’s almost pleading. His lips are soft and open and his eyes are glistening. Hurt etches his features. And I want to take it away, but I can’t because I’m too scared and embarrassed to tell Mom and Don about our relationship. I’m a fucking coward.

  I hate the way I’m standing there, naked. I start to pick up my clothes, pulling them on. He stands and watches me, his arms folded across his chest. “You should go.”

  “Can’t you give me some time?” This time it’s my turn to plead.

  “How much time do you want? I’m offering you myself on a platter here. Just one word and I’m yours.” He’s staring at me through narrowed eyes. “Just say yes, tell me we can go and tell your parents all about us and we can move on.”

  My eyes begin to water. I’m finding it hard to breathe. Because this hurts. His anger, my rejection. All of it is cutting me deeper than a knife.

  “I can’t.” My chest constricts.

  “Just leave.” He laughs bitterly. “This was never going to work. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking.” He starts to pace again. The way his naked body moves across the floor is somewhere between ridiculous and erotic. “You’re too clean, too pristine for somebody like me. Go home, Princess, go out with that kid and have a beautiful life together.” The way he looks at me, his face twisted like he’s in pain, burns itself into my brain.

  Tears sting at my eyes. He knows how to hit me where it hurts. I try to find the proud girl I know is somewhere inside me, because there’s no way I’m going to beg.

  “Fine. I’m going.”

  He doesn’t say another word. Just watches silently as I finish dressing and pull open the door. And when I walk down his driveway, I don’t look back to see if he’s still watching me. I don’t want to let him see me cry.

  I cry for the rest of the night. I can’t work out what is worse, his ultimatum or my denial. We’re both in the wrong, but I can’t see how we can ever make it right. Maybe I should have listened to him all along, and realized we were too far apart to ever be more than friends with benefits.

  I go back to Stanford still in shock. Even the drive is a haze, all shimmering roads and sparkling blue sea. There’s a hole in my heart that pushes against my ribcage, making me ache. I want to rip everything apart and start to scream.

  Instead, I hide at the library.

  After a few days, the shock disappears and is replaced by anger. I find myself tapping out furious texts, only to delete them a few minutes later. I ring his phone and hang up before it connects. I throw things at the wall just to see them break. I’m angry at him and I’m angry at myself and I’m angry at the whole fucking world for playing a joke on me.

  Late at night, when everything is dark and I’m alone with my aching body, I watch him fuck other women on my computer screen. The pictures make me want to vomit. And they still turn me on.

  I find it hard to understand.

  Through it all, I throw myself into my academic work. My advisor accepts my thesis proposal, and I spend my days with my head buried in books, my fingers tapping at a computer keyboard until I think they may fall off from repetitive strain. It’s true what they say, if you channel angst in the right way, you can turn it into a creative masterpiece. And when I look at my work, I know it’s going to be the best thing I’ve ever produced.

  But, still I’m not happy. In fact, I’m downright miserable. A couple of guys at school ask me out on dates, and I turn them down. Because there is still a tiny part of me that is holding out hope Carter will call me, or visit me, or just somehow declare his undying love for me.

  He doesn’t.

  I’m desperate enough to call my mom, and somehow try to turn the conversation around to him.

  “How’s Elm Circle?”

  “Same old, same old. Mrs. Grabowski has got a new kitten. The tiny thing has torn up all her silk drapes. Don reckons it has razor blades instead of claws.”

  This is about as exciting as it gets on Elm Circle. At least, until Carter arrived.

  “And the parties. How are they?”

  Mom laughs. “Oh, you mean Dirk? They’re still quiet, thank goodness. We don’t see very much of him, to be honest. Don thinks he’s probably going to move out soon. I hope so, I don’t think I can take another year of parties.”

  My mind starts racing. Is he out all the time because he’s found somebody else? Is he sleeping at another girl’s house?

  I find myself wishing I’d never asked about him in the first place, and I spend a restless night remembering how raw he looked when he told me to leave. Like his heart was breaking right along with mine.

  Chapter 8

  Somehow I make it to summer without going crazy. Each day is better than the last, and slowly, slowly, I feel like I’m going to get over Carter Grant. I hand in my thesis with dry eyes, and don’t even have to fake a smile when my supervisor tells me they’re offering me a place at grad school.

&
nbsp; There’s still one more thing I have to do, though, and it pulls at my guts. I load up my car and drive home for the summer.

  Every mile closer makes me feel a little more nauseous. I wonder if he’s going to be looking out for me. If he will avoid me. I feel even sicker when I imagine the parties that might go on in his backyard. I have to pull over to the side of the road to puke my guts out.

  Everything is quiet when I get home. There are no cars in the driveway—ours or his—and I let out a sigh as I park up my car. Grabbing my cases, I slowly walk up the steps, pulling the key out of my purse to open the door.

  That’s when I feel my spine start to tingle. Little fizzes and bubbles make me shudder. I slowly turn around. He’s leaning against the gatepost, his arms folded in front of him. He’s wearing a Dodger’s cap, pulled low on his brow. I can feel my breath start to stutter when he catches my eye.

  “Hi.” He waves a salute.

  I frown, trying to work out what the hell he’s doing. “Hi?”

  “I’ve just moved in next door.”

  I’m more confused than ever. “What?”

  “I’m your new neighbor. Carter Grant.” He starts to walk down the driveway. He isn’t smiling, but there’s humor in his gait. “It’s good to meet you.”

  “Okaaaayy.” Has he gone mad? I can’t seem to fathom what’s going on.

  “I work in production. Movie production.” He stops in front of me. I look up to see his face. “I know you had some run-ins with the old neighbor. I’m pleased to say he’s left.”

  “The porn star?”

  Carter gives a mock shudder. “Yeah. The guy was a loser. I hope he didn’t cause you too many problems.”

  I stare straight at him. “He broke my heart.”

  His face falls. “I’m sorry to hear that. As I said, he was a douche.”

  I nod my head. “He was.”

  “Well, hopefully I can restore neighborly relations.” He pulls his cap up, enough for me to see his face. “Can I take you out for a drink?”

  I roll my eyes. “No.” I turn and put the key in the lock. “Fuck off.”

  He gives a short laugh. “I guess I deserved that.”

  “You deserve a hell of a lot more than that, you fucking asshole.”

  “I know.”

  I stare at the door, hating the way tears start to sting at my eyes. I’m furious at him, even angrier at myself. Because part of me wants to turn around and fling myself at him, but the other part remembers him hurting me deeply. “What do you want, Carter?”

  “To say I’m sorry.”

  “Apology accepted. Now leave.”

  “Can I explain?”

  “No.” I yank open the front door and run inside, slamming it behind me. I’ve left my cases on the doorstep, my car door open, and I don’t even care. The only thing I can think of is getting as far away from him as possible.

  Before he breaks my heart again.

  He sends me flowers the next morning. A basket full of chocolates the day after that. By Wednesday I’m getting fed up with having to explain to my mom where all these gifts are coming from. I make up a pretend boyfriend in Stanford and have to put up with her squealing all morning.

  When Don arrives home that night, we all sit around in the kitchen. He and Mom sip wine. I crack open a beer.

  “Did you hear that Carter Grant has retired?” He grins at Mom.

  “No?” Her smile is bigger. “Does that mean no more parties?”

  Don shrugs. “I’ve no idea. But he did come and see me in the office today and apologize for all the disturbance. I still don’t like the guy, but he’s got some chutzpah.”

  “Wonders will never cease. Maybe tomorrow we can get us some world peace.”

  I lie in bed that night and try to work out what it all means. His apologies, his pretending to be a new neighbor—no longer the pornstar next door. His retirement from porn. I don’t know how I’m meant to feel about it all. Or am I even allowed to feel anything at all? Because there’s nothing between us. Not anymore.

  I toss and turn for an hour, trying to get his image out of my brain. The fragrance of the flowers he sent me wafts through the air. The roses smell too sweet.

  Then I hear a bang against my window. I sit up, running a hand through my hair. Another bang gets me out of bed. I walk over there, pulling back the shades.

  He’s standing on his lawn, hand poised to throw another stone at my window. I pull it open, leaning out.

  “What the fuck are you doing?”

  He shrugs. “Just checking you’re okay.”

  “I was fine, until somebody woke me up throwing stuff at my window.”

  “You weren’t asleep.”

  How the hell does he know? “What do you want, Carter?”

  “Come sit with me.”

  “No.”

  A smile tugs at his lips. “Come on. Just for a while. I won’t do anything to make you mad.”

  “You merely existing is enough to make me mad.”

  “Ten minutes?”

  He’s persistent, I’ll give him that. And I can feel my feet aching to walk, to pull on some shoes and make my way to his garden. “Five. Tops.”

  His smile is huge. “I’ll take it.”

  When I slip out of the house he’s waiting for me on the steps. He escorts me to his garden, never taking his eyes off me.

  I sit down on his Adirondack chair, pulling my knees against my chest.

  “Beer?” He gestures at his outside fridge. I shake my head.

  “No thanks.”

  He pulls up a chair right next to mine. When he sits down, our legs are almost touching. “Thank you for coming.” His voice is soft. It wraps around me like a blanket.

  “I didn’t get much choice.”

  “I know I’m a stubborn bastard. I just want to talk to you.”

  I swallow, even though my throat is dry. “What about?”

  “To apologize.”

  I catch his eyes, murky in the half-light. “You already did.”

  “I can’t stop.” He’s smiling again. “I was an asshole to you. A fuck up. I deserve everything you want to throw at me.”

  “I thought you liked me. Enough to wait.”

  “I did. I do. It was me I didn’t like.” He leans back, stretching his long legs in front of him. “You’re so pretty. So perfect. A princess, a college graduate. Everything about you is together. I didn’t deserve you. Still don’t.”

  I’m finding it hard to breathe. “So why am I here?”

  “Because I want you anyway. Even though you’re too good for me.”

  The ache in my chest just won’t go away. “You can’t have me.” I don’t even know if I mean it. Part of me wants to hurt him as much as he hurt me.

  “I don’t deserve you. I know that much.” He leans forward, resting his hand on the arm of my chair. We’re less than an inch away from touching. But he doesn’t move, just sits and stares, and waits for me to respond.

  “You don’t.” I bite my lip. “Not because you had sex for money. Or because I’m better educated. You don’t deserve me because you treated me like shit. You threw me away like a used whore.”

  He grimaces and has the good grace to look embarrassed. “I’m so sorry.”

  I shrug. “It’s not enough.”

  “What will be enough?”

  He catches my eye again. I hate the way my body responds to his stare. “I don’t know. Persistent groveling. Maybe feet kissing. I’d say ass licking, but I know you’d take it literally.”

  He shouts out a laugh. “I’d definitely do that.”

  I don’t want to smile, but my lips tug up anyway. “You’re a dirty bastard.”

  “I know.”

  “And you got mad at me because I didn’t want to tell my parents about us. I just needed some time to get them used to the idea.”

  “I know that was wrong, too.”

  We’re both silent for a moment. I listen to the gurgling of the hot tub and his soft br
eaths beside me. From the corner of my eye, I see him lift his beer bottle to his lips and drain the contents. His fingers are shaking as he puts the bottle back on the table.

  “Why didn’t you call me?”

  He looks surprised. “What?”

  “It’s been two months. So why didn’t you call me?”

  “I needed the time.”

  It’s my turn to frown. “What for?”

  “To clean up my act.” He turns in his seat and looks at me. “I wanted to straighten some things out before I tried to win you back.”

  “Like what?”

  “I wanted to find a new job. Show you I’m not just that guy who fucks for a living. I need to finish up my commitments before I can leave.”

  I don’t even want to think of his commitments. Mostly because I know they involved fucking other women. “And you have?”

  He nods rapidly. “I might have a job in production. I know it isn’t enough, but it’s a stepping stone. I still plan to leave the industry for good, as soon as I’m on my feet.” He leans closer and my breath stutters. “This isn’t just a game to me. I hope you know that. All those nights, laying on your bed, talking shit through. It meant a lot.”

  I’m finding it hard to breathe. Because they meant a lot to me, too. The fact we weren’t just having sex, but we were really talking, as well. The asshole made me fall for him, one confession at a time.

  “And I want us to go back there. To those people who were getting to know each other. To the guy who found a beautiful girl who might just see through the ugly exterior to something worth seeing inside.”

  I bite my lip. Because he isn’t ugly. “I always saw the good.”

  His voice cracks slightly. “I didn’t believe it. Not then. I thought you were too good for me. Still do. But I just can’t stay away.”

  “I don’t want you to.” I’m not sure who is more surprised, Carter or me. But as soon as the words escape my lips, I realize their truth. Because I’m sick of the games, I’m tired of keeping away. I’m ready to listen to what he has to say. “So what now?” I let my arm move slightly toward his hand, until the tips of his fingers are brushing against my skin. It feels electric.

  “Now I start the groveling.” He leans forward, until his face is close to mine. “Can I kiss you?”