by M. S. Parker
As Glenn eased her down, he held her carefully, gently, brushing her hair from her face with trembling fingers. Her face was slack, but she was breathing. Judging by the contents on the floor, her body hadn’t had time to digest everything she’d taken.
I never thought I’d be so happy to see somebody getting sick.
“We’ve called an ambulance.”
I looked up from the doorway to see Helen hovering. I nodded and looked back at Florence.
The violent retching had stopped. Glenn picked her up and gently laid her on the bed. Her eyes were still closed, and I went closer. As I did, he sat back.
“Maybe you shouldn’t be here,” I said quietly. I felt almost sick saying it because he’d been the one to finally get her to purge herself.
But he was also the reason she’d tried to kill herself.
The hospital was cold and bright and cheerless.
If I had to be in a place like this, I thought I just might cry.
Right now, Florence lay listlessly in the bed, staring at nothing. The doctors thought she’d be okay—physically.
They were less than optimistic about her emotional well-being, although they hadn’t used words as kind as that. I’d wanted to throw them out on their white-coated asses, but if I’d done that, then nobody would have been here watching over her.
“Why did you save me?” she whispered.
I went to her side and sat on the edge of the bed.
“You’re my friend. What else was I going to do?” I said. I took her hand and she looked up at me, watching me with morose eyes. “Florence, no man is worth ending your life over.”
Tears flooded her eyes. “It’s not just him. It’s…everything. Maya, it’s all too much. I just can’t do it.”
“You can.” I struggled to remember some of the things I’d heard or read about people with depression. “You’re not alone, you know. I get that you feel that way, that nobody understands and that nobody cares, but that’s not true.”
“You can’t know that.”
I brushed her hair back from her face. “If nobody cared, I wouldn’t be here.”
It was the truth too. I hadn’t just done all of this because I felt it was some crazy calling—I wanted her to live. Seeing her lying so pale, so close to death had all but destroyed something in me.
A tremulous smile curled her lips, then her lashes fluttered down. “I’m tired, Maya. Be here when I wake up?”
She was already asleep before I could answer, which was good.
I hoped I’d be here.
I had no idea what would happen next. I hadn’t managed to keep her and Glenn together, but she hadn’t died in her dressing room either. History had changed.
Now what?
The day was gone.
Sunset was coming, and the miserable narrow window provided a brief look at the burning red.
Florence had drifted in and out through the day and now she was awake, trying to eat the meal they’d put in front of her.
When I heard a noise at the door, I immediately rose. I’d thrown several gawking people out, and I was ready to do it again.
Once I saw the visitor, I was definitely ready to throw him out.
Glenn stood there, face tired and worn, eyes surprisingly somber.
“Hello.”
A fork clattered against a tray, and I looked back to see that Florence had paled once more.
“You need to leave,” I said in a low voice, stepping closer to him.
The heat of his body instantly scorched mine, and my knees felt a little weak. Even after all that had happened, the scent of him went straight to my head. I didn’t let any of it show, not even when his intense eyes dropped to mine and he shook his head.
“No. I need to be here. Step aside, please.”
“I…” I couldn’t deny my surprise at how firm he sounded. Not simply arrogant, but purposeful. Still. Squaring my shoulders, I glared at him. “No. You need to leave.”
“I’m not leaving.” He edged past me, and my body went on red alert as his chest brushed against my arm.
Hard. Hot. Male. Muscle.
This wasn’t fair, my body wailed. And damn if every part of me knew it, heart, mind, and soul.
As Glenn approached, Florence pushed her tray of food away and turned her face to the bleeding red of the sunset. Her throat worked as she swallowed, and her cheeks were bright pink. I wanted to hug her so hard.
“Florence,” Glenn said gently.
“What are you doing here?” she asked. I’d never heard her voice sound so lifeless.
“I was worried.” He hooked a hand around the chair that I had been using and dragged it closer, sitting down.
She still wouldn’t look at him.
I held my breath, feeling like I was intruding, but there was no way I could look away, no chance I could leave.
Florence slid a look at him from the corner of her eye, as if she couldn’t dare to look at him head on. “You were worried.” She laughed.
It wasn’t long before the sound broke and hitched, turning into a sob.
I straightened to go to her, but she picked up a handkerchief she’d been keeping by the bed and dabbed at her eyes, calming herself enough to speak again. “Why were you worried, Glenn? What does it even matter to you?’
I flinched at the bitterness in her words.
But Glenn reached out and took her free hand, folding it in his. “Florence, just because I’m not in love with you doesn’t mean I don’t care for you. Can’t we at least be friends?”
She slid another slow look at him before resuming her pensive study of the sunset. “I’m not much good as a friend, Glenn.”
“I think Maya would say otherwise. She’s not here because she has nothing else to do, you know. She’s here because she cares. That’s why I’m here too.”
It was so quiet, I could hear the audible intake of her breath before Florence slowly turned her head to study Glenn.
“Why?”
He seemed to understand the question.
“Why wouldn’t I?” He kissed the back of her hand. “You’re funny and you’re sweet. You care about people, not just about getting ahead. That counts for quite a bit in this world.”
“It’s not so hard to care about people.” But there was a faint smile on her lips. It faded quickly though. “I’ve messed up so bad, Glenn. What am I going to do?”
“You haven’t messed up any worse than some of the rest of us.” He was quiet a moment, then he asked, “You need to get help. You know that, right?”
Her cheeks flushed. “I don’t want to go see some head shrinker, Glenn.”
“Nobody does. But you’ve got some things that are bothering you, and they aren’t going to get any better until you see somebody about it. Let me help you. I want you to get better.”
After Glenn left I returned to the seat he’d been using and waited for her to look at me.
It didn’t take long.
Her gaze was still tired and sad, but not so lost and empty.
“You didn’t have to do what you did, Maya.” She reached for the glass of water and took a sip, then put it down and picked up the napkin, folding it. I watched her as she made sure her napkin had a neat little crease down the middle. Once satisfied, she put it down and aligned her silverware on it.
“What did you think I was going to do? Just let you…” I couldn’t bring myself to say it. Thinking about that close call still made me cold all over. “I know what it’s like to try to run from everything in your life, to have it feel like you’re falling apart inside and so is everything else. But the way to fix it is to face it. Not hide from it.”
“I guess I’m not going to have much choice now.” She gave me a weak smile. “I promised Glenn. Besides, it’s not like I have anything else to do. I’m sure Kurt is going to fire me now.”
“Kurt is an asshole.”
She laughed, and the sound was brighter, happier than I’d heard from her in a while.
&nbs
p; In that moment, I thought that maybe things would be okay.
For Florence, at least.
23
Maya
I slept the day away, or most of it.
It was past five in the evening when I climbed out of bed. My head felt as if it had been stuffed with cotton, and my limbs were so heavy and sore, it hurt to move.
“That’s what you get for sleeping in that torture device they called a chair,” I muttered under my breath as I bent over and tried to loosen the kinks in my back. I wanted a hot bath, but I knew if I took one, I would fall asleep again.
I settled for some yoga, followed by a hot shower, one just long enough to wash up. I wrapped my hair in a towel and reached for my robe, only to discover the hook on the door empty. I’d left it in the bedroom. Again.
Sighing, I used a towel instead, wrapping it around me before heading into the kitchen to get a pot of coffee brewing.
And food.
My belly rumbled demandingly, and I opened the refrigerator in the ever-wishful hope that I’d find a Philly cheesesteak or maybe even just some leftover pizza. Or some kung-pao chicken. Sadly, there was nothing like that, but I did find a wrapped plate with a note from Harrison.
It read simply, Thank you.
Somebody from the studio must have called and let him know what was going on.
I felt ashamed I hadn’t thought of it.
I felt selfish and small because I hadn’t remembered to do it.
The plate held cold cuts of chicken and ham, as well as cheese and veggies cut up fresh. Nothing that would require heating up. He must have been able to tell that I didn’t like to cook. In the kitchen at home or in my dorm, I would have enjoyed it, but I knew how to operate things in my own kitchen. Here, I still felt a little out of my depth.
Putting the plate down, I turned to check on the coffee. The towel slipped and I reached up to adjust it. Needed to get my robe.
I had taken two steps toward the bedroom to do just that when somebody knocked.
“Shit,” I muttered with a quick look down at the towel. Hurrying over to the door, I peeked through the side window and saw Glenn.
He was staring right at me.
I blushed to the roots of my hair. What the hell was it with this guy that he could do this to me?
Jerking back, I hid behind the sanctuary of the door. “Yes?”
“Maya, can you open up? I’d like to talk to you.”
“About what?”
“Well, if you could open the door, that would be easier to tell you,” he said, wry humor suffusing the words.
Under my breath, I swore a hundred thousand curses, or so it seemed. I didn’t want to open the door and talk to him because if I did, what little self-control I had would vanish. I was about ready to tell him to just go away, just like I had the last time.
But he sighed. And somehow, I sensed he’d moved closer to the door because his voice sounded louder when he spoke again. Like he was leaning against the door, just as I was. I could practically feel him. “Maya…please.”
My resistance crumbled, and I opened the door. It wasn’t until the very second when his eyes dropped, then lingered, that I remembered something important.
I was still only wearing the damn towel.
Flushing hotly, I spun on my ankle. “I just got out of the shower,” I snapped over my shoulder. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
Hurrying into my bedroom, I grabbed my robe and put it on over the towel. I needed as much material between my treacherous body and his eyes as possible. My nipples were already stubbing in the rough weave of the cotton, sensitized almost to the point of pain.
I had no idea what was wrong with me. While I was no exhibitionist, I wasn’t overly modest, either. But having him see me in the towel was worse than if he’d seen me naked.
And now I was debating on taking the time to get dressed, but I hesitated because I wasn’t sure if I should. He’d be out there thinking about me getting dressed.
Which was worse?
I didn’t know.
Deciding to brazen it out, I knotted the tie of my robe securely and headed out to face him.
Glenn was standing at the window, looking outside. Even though I knew he had to have heard me, he didn’t turn around.
“Sorry I’m intruding,” he said gruffly. “I heard you stayed with Florence last night. You must be exhausted.”
“Not now.” I shrugged and fiddled with the robe’s belt. “I slept all day.”
Immediately I wish I hadn’t said anything about sleeping, because that made me think of my bed and then him, preferably him and the bed and me together. His spine stiffened, and I thought that maybe he was thinking the same thing.
Miserable, I wrapped my arms across my chest and stared a hole through the back of his head. “What was so important that it couldn’t wait until the next time we saw each other?”
“I didn’t know when that would be,” he said reasonably. He finally looked at me, but it was just a glance, so quick it might as well have not even happened. “The movie is on hold. You were talking about leaving. I needed to see you. It’s important.”
“You’ve said that already.” My knees went a little weak as he continued to stare at me. There was a new intensity to his gaze that hadn’t been there before, and it made it even harder for me think. I realized I was gripping the vee neck of my robe together, although it had nothing to do with modesty. It was some subconscious, last minute grab for control, like if I didn’t hold the damn thing on me, I was afraid I’d just step right out of it.
He took a step toward me.
“What did you want to talk to me about?” I backed up a step, desperate not to let him get close, even as I desperately wanted to get closer to him. My entire body ached for him, ached with the sort of need that came from a hunger too long denied. I didn’t entirely like it, didn’t want to feel like this now, or ever again.
“You said you were leaving. I don’t want you to go.”
Those words struck me with an unending chill. I would leave. I didn’t have any choice, did I? But when would I leave—that was the question.
“It’s not really up to me.” Even though I wasn’t wearing the necklace, my fingers went to my throat, and against my ring finger I felt the rapid thudding of my pulse.
Glenn’s gaze dipped low and rested on my hand before returning to my face.
“What do you mean it’s not up to you? Just decide to stay.” He took another step closer.
“Florence is going to be focused on getting better for the near future,” I hedged. “She doesn’t really need me here. I was hired by the studio. I don’t have a job. Not like there’s a lot of reason for me to stay.”
“You do have a reason, and you’re hiding from it.”
Somehow, he had closed the distance between us and reached up to cup my cheek. His thumb stroked over my lower lip, and I shivered despite myself.
“If I could have made myself love her, I would’ve done it. But I’m not going to be with somebody when I know it won’t make either of us happy. Especially not when there is somebody I do want, somebody I think will make me happy.”
The staggering beauty of his eyes seemed to cut right through to my very soul. My heart raced so hard and fast that I was certain he could hear it.
“Maya…” He dipped his head and pressed his lips to my ear. “Do you want me to leave?”
Why couldn’t he have just been pushy about it?
If he’d been an ass, I could have pushed back. But that wasn’t the case. Instead, he was logical and reasonable…and sweet. As I hesitated, his lips slid down my cheek to rub against mine, and he asked the question again, his voice low and rough. “Do you want me to leave?”
I’m sorry…
“No.”
I lifted my lips for his kiss, already moaning, already starving. He met me with equal desperation. As I buried my fingers in his hair, his hands went to my waist and I felt the tie on my robe give way.
> I didn’t care. It was just another barrier between us. I still had the towel on, too, but as the robe gave way, the towel loosened and fell, puddling at my feet. He pushed the robe back from my shoulders and it joined the towel, baring all of me to his touch.
And touch he did. As his tongue teased at my lips, his hands moved across my skin, making me quake, making me burn.
He boosted me up and I instinctively wrapped my legs around his waist. His fingers dug into my ass and I gasped as my back encountered the wall behind me. It was cool against my flesh, a harsh contrast with the fire burning in me and the heat that was him.
His tongue twined against mine and I moaned. I didn’t always like being kissed, especially with tongue. Some guys were okay at it. Some sucked. Some were pretty decent. Most made me feel like they’d learned it from watching porn.
Glenn, however, was absolutely fantastic. He was a damn maestro when it came to kissing, and judging by the way his fingers teased patterns on my skin, he was going to be equally talented in other areas.
I rubbed my tongue against his then tore my mouth away, panting, needing the air and hating that it meant we weren’t kissing.
Then his mouth slid down my neck, closed over the skin there, and I decided this was okay too. As he began to suck on the delicate flesh just above my pulse, I curled my arms around his neck and rocked my hips forward, desperate to ease the ache inside. His jeans were rough against the insides of my thighs, rough against my most sensitive skin, but I needed.
He shuddered even as he grasped my waist, holding me tight as he walked us over to my bed.
“I won’t hurt you,” he murmured against my skin as he carefully lowered me to the mattress.
That confused me for a minute. Then I realized he probably thought I was a virgin. I hoped he wasn’t disappointed. Craning my head back, I studied him from under my lashes for a moment before saying, “I’ve had lovers before.”
For a moment, his expression was unreadable; then, slowly, a smile curled his lips. “Good.”
That wasn’t exactly the reaction I’d expected.
But from one second to the next, a change came over him, and I caught on... fast.
