by Diana Kane
“Why do I feel like you already know what you want to do?”
“Because I think I do. I’m leaning towards going out there and allowing them to ask me five questions. I’ll answer them honestly and make sure they understand that’s all they are going to get. The question is do you want to go out there with me? They invaded your privacy as much as mine, so I’m giving you the choice.”
“I don’t know,” she admits after a few minutes of contemplative silence. “I want to support you, but I also feel that if we go out there together, it sends the message that we’ve been an item for a lot longer then the world is aware of.”
“Why don’t you stay inside then? I’ll go upstairs, make myself a bit more presentable, and then speak to the vultures. Maybe they’ll be gone by morning,” I say with a hopeful smile. I have no idea what is going on inside Olivia’s head right now, but the look on her face conveys that something is bothering her. I watch her absentmindedly rotating the same puzzle piece between her fingers as I slide out of my chair and round the table to stand at her side. “What’s on your mind?” I question as I comb my fingers through her hair.
“I’m just worried that if the media craze continues, you’ll pull away from me to escape it,” she quietly admits, her concern emanating from her eyes. I try to give her a reassuring smile as I turn her chair to face me before straddling her lap. I catch the momentary flash of pain that crosses her face as she attempts to pull me more fully onto her lap with her injured hand, before helping her out and sliding forward as far as I can. This is not the non-physical distraction my body and mind need.
“Liv,” I whisper as I gaze into her worry filled eyes and slowly trail my fingers along her jaw. “I dated one of the biggest stars in the world for years. You’ve seen what that was like. There was nowhere we could go that we weren’t followed or photographed. I’m nothing to those people in the grand scheme of things. I’ll go out there, talk to them, and hopefully they’ll leave us alone. Even if they don’t, they won’t keep me from seeing you. Please hear me when I say that this is what I want,” I murmur before brushing my lips over hers. “Once upon a time I gave you all of my heart. Things happened…life happened. I know that you’re giving me all of yours again, so just know I’m working towards giving you all of mine. I’m not playing a game, and I won’t be easily scared away,” I assure her. “I just need you to give me a little time because I don’t want to go into this with a constant underlying fear that you’re going to crush me again.”
“I know, and I’m more than willing to give you that time. Sometimes it just feels so…I don’t know what word to use for it. I mean, I love you. A lot of that love feels so familiar, yet at the same time, I can’t forget how badly I hurt you before or ignore the fact that we aren’t the same women now that we were then. We’ve had radically different experiences. Our stations in life aren’t the same anymore.”
“Do I keep reminding you about how you hurt me?”
“Not really. I remind myself plenty because I know what my stupidity cost me. I understand what having you in my life is worth now. I don’t want to make those same mistakes again, but at the same time I worry that you’ll discover something different about me that you’ll see as a dealbreaker.”
“I could argue the same. I think we both recognize that we aren’t the same people that we were when we were together before. Neither of us is pretending to be. We’ve been spending time together since you returned and we’re both here now. Worrying about one of us discovering something we can’t live with is the same worry we’d be dealing with in any relationship. I’m not so easily swayed, are you?”
“No. I know that it’s you I want to be with, which makes it that much harder. Like now, you’re in my lap yet you have no idea how badly I want you—,” I cut her off by forcefully kissing her, attempting to let her know that I have an excellent idea based on how much I want to make love with her.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper when I pry my lips away from hers. “I shouldn’t have interrupted you like that, but you need to know that every fiber of my being wants to make love with you too. But you said you wanted me to be certain I could trust you, and I think it’s wise that you want to take it slow. I should have seen the signs when we hooked up before. It’s my fault that you were hurt by what happened and I don’t want to do that again.”
“I could have said no or stopped to ask what you were aiming for. I don’t regret that it happened. One, the sex was mind blowing. Two, if it hadn’t had happened…who knows? Maybe we wouldn’t be trying to see if we have a future together.”
“Fair enough,” I concede, relieved that she isn’t harboring a grudge. “Also, as far as our stations in life, as you called them, I hope you know I don’t think I’m better than anyone else. I’m better off financially, yes, but that’s it.”
“I know you don’t. I only meant to imply that we aren’t equals anymore. I know you’re not a snob,” she assures me as she rubs her right hand along my bicep. “I think the most expensive piece of clothing I’ve seen you in is your Nike running shoes,” she jokes.
“Oh, I’m positive I have a designer label dress or two upstairs, if you’d like to see one,” I tease her back.
“Not yet. Part of the pleasure of seeing you in the dress is taking that dress off of you,” she informs me with that mischievous glint twinkling in her blue eyes. I feel myself leaning into her, prepared to fall into that look, longing to feel that heady rush that I know being with Olivia guarantees. “Where are you going?” she asks when I suddenly slide off of her lap.
“Just right here,” I answer as I lean back against the table, mindful of the puzzle pieces littering the surface. “With that look you were just giving me, we have three options. One, we can talk, and I’ll deal with the press in the morning. Two, I can deal with them now and then we can talk. Or there is option three, I can deal with them tomorrow, we can not talk now, and that thing that feels inevitable will happen sooner than it probably should.” Olivia’s ensuing laughter erases some of the tension that had accumulated over the last few minutes, allowing me to relax a little.
“Not that I don’t appreciate where your head is at on option three, but I think we should take it off of the table. Why don’t you talk to the press and with any luck they’ll be gone in the morning, allowing us to have some privacy again.”
“I will in a minute. I don’t want to leave this conversation where it is just yet.”
“Okay,” she whispers as she looks up at me, her brows knitting together slightly.
“There are two things I want to say before I go out there. The first is that I want to ensure that you know that I do want to be intimate with you. This whole taking it slow thing has been doing my head in, but I understand and appreciate the need for it,” I continue, despite Olivia’s mouth opening to explain. “Second,” I begin after pausing to allow Olivia to speak, “I don’t think I’ve apologized to you. You were right. I did model the villains in my stories after you. It wasn’t something I did consciously, but I guess you were always with me, even when I didn’t realize it. So I’m sorry if that hurt you. I know I can’t undo it, but I do sincerely apologize.”
“It’s okay,” she assures me as she reaches out and tugs me into her good arm. “I won’t lie, at first I was a little pissed off about it. But after my stint in rehab, it really hammered home how much I hurt you. I only pointed it out to you during our argument because I felt like you were either content to deny it or didn’t even realize you had been doing it, and I was angry. Maybe I should be flattered that I’ve been immortalized in each one of your stories,” she jokes before bringing the inside of my wrist to her lips. I close my eyes as her soft exhale rolls along my forearm, the realization that I have to tell her about the unfinished story settling in on my consciousness. But how do I tell her? More importantly, how will she react? “I’d love to hold you hostage right here all night, but you should take care of business,” she eventually whispers as she releases me, leavi
ng the issue involving the story unresolved.
*****
I take a deep breath as I descend the stairs and prepare to throw myself to the wolves. I honestly do not like making public appearances or doing interviews. I understood the necessity when I was up and coming, but at this juncture in my career, it hasn’t been much of a requirement. Thankfully social media eased that burden. Oh how I wish I could have my web-mistress type up a statement and post it now.
“Do you want me to go out there with you?” Olivia asks as I pass by the dining room.
“I’ll be okay,” I answer as I watch her slide out of her chair. Olivia’s smile eases some of the anxiety I’m feeling, her scent relaxing me even further as we wrap our arms around each other.
“You sure?”
“Positive. Will you be here when I’m finished?”
“Should I sneak out while they have your attention diverted?” she asks before her laughter bounces my head against her shoulder.
“If you must. Totally up to you,” I answer at the same time that I entertain the notion that I’d like her to spend the night, even if all we do is sleep while curled up together.
“What were you just thinking about?”
“Nothing,” I answer.
“Bullshit. I just felt your heart rate shift from a crawl to a sprint. You nervous about going out there?”
“Dreading it might be the appropriate phrase. I’ve never had an affinity for interviews or public appearances. I manage when I must, but I prefer to avoid them. At least this one should be rather brief, and I can look forward to spending time with you after.”
“I’ll be waiting,” she assures me before pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Damn it,” she mumbles as she pulls her left hand off of my shoulder. “This is gonna be a major pain in my ass,” she says as she gently shakes her injured appendage.
“I have some ibuprofen in the medicine cabinet and a reusable ice pack in the freezer. Why don’t you take some ibuprofen and ice your hand? I’ll be back in a few,” I share before planting a quick peck on her cheek.
I pull open the front door, and a jumble of voices bombards me, my emergence likely tipped off when I switched the porch light on before opening the door.
“Jordan,” one of the female reporters shouts like we’re acquainted.
“There she is,” another obviously observes.
“Will you be issuing a statement in the near future?” a third shouts as I slowly force myself to cross the front yard, my palms growing clammy as I near the mass of strangers.
“Good evening,” I begin as I hold up my hand asking for silence. “Thank you. I understand that you have a lot of questions that you’d like me to address. What I would like is my privacy and to not feel like a prisoner in my home. So I’m offering you a deal. I’ll answer a total of five questions. I’ll provide honest and unfiltered answers to those questions if you’ll kindly stop camping out in front of my house. These are the only questions I have any intention of answering, and I have no plans to issue any further statements at this time. So you’re welcome to confer amongst yourselves for a few minutes to narrow your list or feel free to try shouting over one another and I’ll pick five at random to answer.” I watch in mild amusement as the faces in the small crowd turn to look at one another, their expressions indicating that they either think I’m joking or they don’t understand what is happening.
“Did you cheat on Addison with the woman in the pictures?” one of the male reporters shouts from my left. Okay, so much for organization, I think as I look in the direction the voice came from. This is the world we live in now, one where people are offered an opportunity to work together, yet the opportunity is lost when those who can’t set aside their own self-importance decide their goals are more important than the goals of the collective.
“I did not cheat on Addison. Addison and I already addressed the reasons for our separation in the video we released. A video, I might add, that we filmed with the help of her assistant. There weren’t any agents or public representatives involved in the making or distribution of that video. They knew about it when you knew about it,” I inform them as I scan the entire crowd. “I also watched Addison’s short interview this morning. I know that she assured the world this morning that she knows nothing happened between Olivia and me until recently. There isn’t a scandal here. All of the parties involved are aware of that fact.”
“How long was your relationship with Addison over before you started dating again?” I manage to hear from a woman standing a few feet in front of me. She’s attractive and looks vaguely familiar, making me wonder if I’ve interviewed with her before.
“Olivia is the first woman I’ve dated since Addison and I broke up. The pictures that were circulated last night were taken throughout the day yesterday, which was our second date.”
“Photos of you and Olivia Bradley surfaced back in December. Do you still maintain that nothing happened between the two of you until recently?” I scan the crowd as a spike of irritation surges through me, but I can’t figure out who asked the question.
“Asked and answered already, but yes, I maintain that nothing happened. On the night in question, we were spending some time with our mutual friends. I had a little more to drink than I should have. I freely admit that while in my inebriated state I tried to kiss Olivia. Tried being the operative word,” I ensure that I add a bit more emphasis than necessary to communicate my irritation. “She stopped me, citing that if I were sober and single things could be different.” I look around the crowd, pulling in a deep breath while I wait for the shouting to commence once more.
“A source that I spoke with intimated that you and Miss. Bradley have a history together. What can you tell us about that?” A source? Is this man one of the piranhas that followed Olivia to the emergency room?
“Olivia and I dated in high school and my first two years at Northwestern,” I admit with a sigh. Why did someone have to disclose this? It’s risky admitting that we were together before. It could undermine the credibility of the rest of my answers in the eyes of the world, but at the same time, they could easily go back to their source and get what would end up being a bigger story, likely more fiction than fact. “After we broke up, I didn’t see or communicate with her for over a decade. We reconnected when she moved back to Jupiter Falls to open her restaurant. The circumstances behind our breakup are irrelevant and not open for further discussion at this time. I’ll answer one more question and then we’ll be done here.”
“Have you and Addison been in contact since your breakup?”
“Yes. As we said in the video, Addison and I are, and probably always will be, friends. We talk on a routine basis, and if you must know, Addison encouraged me to give things with Olivia another try. Look, there is no story here. I appreciate that you all have a job to do, that you ultimately need to sell magazines and ads on your web pages, but you’re trying to create a story where there isn’t one. Addison is happy dating Chloe. I’m happy trying to determine if Olivia and I share a future together. I’ll reiterate that I won’t be answering any more questions or issuing any other statements, so please go home and stop harassing us. I’m sure if we’re seen in public in the future, someone will snap a few pictures and sell them to you. If you choose to buy them, that’s your decision, but you can’t expect us to hide ourselves or our relationship because some of your readers believe Addison and I were written in the stars. So please, find a real story and allow us to continue our lives in private. Thank you,” I conclude before exhaling and turning for the house. Despite informing them that I’d only be answering five questions, the crowd continues bombarding my retreating form, their inquiries fusing into a genderless jumble as each person strives to out yell their peers.
“You okay?” Olivia asks as I lean against the back of the front door with my eyes closed. I offer up a halfhearted smile as I open my eyes in time to see her rising from the couch. I watch with half-lidded eyes as she maneuvers her way between the couc
h and coffee table, her injured hand cradled between her breasts. “Was it that bad?” she asks as she gently brushes my hair away from my face.
“No, it wasn’t too bad. Someone told one of them that we dated before. I had to confirm, otherwise, when they found proof it would undermine anything else Addison or I tell them.”
“I don’t mind,” she assures me. “I told you that I don’t care if the whole world knows how I feel about you. I’ve never been ashamed of those feelings,” she answers as I reach up and take the hand caressing my face, maintaining eye contact with her as I press a kiss to the inside of her wrist.
“I’m fine with the world knowing about my feelings for you too,” I whisper as she wiggles her fingers ever so slightly. “Is your hand bothering you?” I ask as I break eye contact with her to look down at the bandaged appendage.
“Some. I took some of the ibuprofen you offered me and was just relaxing for a few. It’s been a long day.”
“It has,” I acknowledge as I chew on my lower lip while debating if I should invite her to stay.
