I’m not in my bed. I’m not in my bed and my head is pounding. The strong smell of fresh-brewed coffee is overpowering. And my stomach lurches. Man, I drank too much last night. The last thing I remember is trying to kiss Jen and her gently pushing me away. I can’t believe I tried to make out with her while I was so wasted I probably didn’t even remember my birthday.
The front door opens and Jen enters, carrying a bag from a bakery. “I brought croissants. They’re buttery and fat, so it could help with your hangover.”
“Did I tell you last night that I thought seeing you again was a sign?”
“Maybe.”
“And did I really make a move on you?”
“A move which was very hard to resist. You can be very convincing.” She smiles and her entire face lights up. “Don’t worry. You weren’t too bad.”
“Not too bad.”
“And you did tell me I got the part in the music video, so that’s a plus.”
“We didn’t…” I gesture to the bed, feeling like the biggest jerk on the entire planet.
“Nope. I slept on the couch, while you took my bed. You didn’t claim it as much as falling into it, really.” She steps forward and hands me a croissant. “I’ve got to go to rehearsal in about thirty minutes. You said something last night about Grégoire needing to talk to some blog gossip lady first to make the big announcement.”
“That’s right.” I stand up and she purses her lips before giggling.
“You might want to put clothes on.”
“What?” I look down and I’m baring everything. And I can’t hide the fact that I’m happy to see her. “How?” I grab the sheet and cover myself, but now her giggle has turned into a full-out laugh, including one tiny snort she doesn’t even bother to hide, and I love the sound of it.
“Last night, you decided you were hot and then you said something about no longer hiding and being your true self and you took off your clothes.”
“I have a feeling I should get the jerk of the night award.”
“Nah, you were cute and you were sad at the beginning. We talked for a long time and it was nice.”
“Nice enough for you to reconsider giving me a chance? I do remember you telling me you didn’t want to get in the middle of Olivia and me.”
“We’ll see. How about first we, I don’t know…hang out? And do that video together, and then we’ll see.”
“So, you want to do that video together first.” I don’t like the sound of that. I remember Grégoire’s words, how we don’t really know Jen, how maybe she knew who I was. But even if she did, she’s the best dancer for the part, and I can’t believe I’m doubting her after she took such good care of me last night.
“Your phone is beeping. Quite insistently.” Jen picks up my phone, which for some reason ended up on the floor last night.
“It’s Grégoire,” I tell her. “And I’ve got a message from Olivia.”
Grégoire calls again. And he can be persistent. “Where are you?” He sounds upset, but again when does Grégoire not sound upset?
“I’m at Jen’s. Why?”
“You haven’t seen your emails yet?”
“Nope. It’s seven in the morning. My head is killing me.”
“Well, your head might be killing you more once you found out what Stardom Magazine has printed this morning.”
“What?”
“It’s a picture of you and Olivia kissing.”
“Kissing? Olivia? What?” I turn to Jen and she furrows her brows, staring down at the floor and stepping away from me. “I didn’t kiss Olivia last night.” I repeat, this time for Jen’s sake, “I did not.”
“You can do whatever you want,” she mutters. “That’s why we’re friends. Friends is good.”
“Did Olivia spread the rumors?”
“No, she did not. She called the newspaper up herself and said this was a lie; she’s also quoted in another online magazine saying that you were kissing her on the cheek to say goodbye and that you guys are not back together.”
“I’m impressed.”
“I don’t think she’s playing games anymore. She’s learned her lesson. And I don’t think publicity—any publicity—is bad, as you know, but what I don’t want is another love triangle.”
“Another?”
“You know what I mean.” And I do, and it hurts. Because the gossip magazines had picked up on the time Olivia and Benji spent together, they twisted everything and when Benji died from an overdose, they called it the end of a tragic love triangle.
Bullshit. So much bullshit.
“Fine, whatever. There’s nothing. Because Olivia and I are nothing anymore. Friendly exes, that’s our aim.”
“What you say goes,” Grégoire replies. “Don’t forget I’m telling Fran at twelve thirty, so make sure your Jen doesn’t blabber until the news gets out at two thirty on her blog.”
“She won’t say anything.” I hang up, feeling even more hungover than before, or maybe just more frustrated, angry.
I find my boxers on the side of the bed and put my jeans back on, trying to make eye contact with Jen, but she’s keeping busy, cleaning a counter that already looks spotless.
“Apparently, the media is having a field day with me kissing Olivia on the cheek.”
“You don’t have to explain.” She shakes her head, and her long black hair flies around. She gathers it to her head and ties it into a knot. I’ve noticed she’s done that before, usually when she’s trying to keep busy, or trying to push me away, to keep me at distance. “Really, you don’t.”
“But I feel like I do.”
“Last night, when you were drunk, you told me you agreed with me. That being friends would be good. That you needed a friend.”
“Did I say that after my failed pathetic attempt at kissing you?”
“You kissed my shoulder. You were getting tired at that point.” When she smiles, I don’t see it in her eyes; it’s like half of her is there, and the other half is gone somewhere I can’t reach her.
“Why don’t you want to give us a try?” I rub the back of my neck and when she turns to me, her mouth forms a small “o” as she keeps her eyes trained on my body before reaching my face. I know I’m not letting her indifferent. Hell, the night we spent together was not only fun, it was also hot, full of passion. You can’t fake that kind of passion.
She shuffles around and then gets my shirt from underneath a pillow on the couch. “Here, maybe you want to put that on.”
“Why?”
“Because I can’t think straight when you’re half naked in my apartment.”
“You’re attracted to me.”
She rolls her eyes like I’ve stated the obvious. “Of course. I usually don’t sleep with strangers I’m not attracted to.”
“You like me.”
And this time, she tilts her head, steps forward, like she wants to be closer to me. I’m not objecting. Not one bit. “I do like you.”
“So, what’s the issue?”
“I’ve got something to tell you.” She shifts her weight from one foot to the other. “Well, first, I don’t want to get in the middle.”
“But you’re not.”
“That’s what you say but there are signs I recognize. The fact that you still care about Olivia.”
“I think I always will. She was a part of my life for so long and even though she screwed up, I know she wasn’t the only one. I screwed up too.”
“You’re not hearing what I’m saying.”
“You’re afraid I still love her.”
She tilts her head back. “Okay, maybe you’re hearing what I’m saying.”
“What other reasons do you have?”
“We’re going to be working together for several weeks at least. Grégoire sent me an email about doing some promo together, some live shows where you’ll be singing and I’ll be dancing. You also showed me the contract last night and it could get really awkward, especially if we don’t work out.”
“Not more awkward than singing for my dead friend with the girl who lied to me and who everyone believed had something going with him.” I raise one eyebrow because I know I got her there.
She gasps. “What?”
“Long story short, Benji and Olivia were spending a lot of time together. Without me. And rumors spread about them maybe sleeping together behind my back. Benji denied it. Olivia cried. Whatever.”
“I’m so sorry,” she whispers and her hand runs down my arm soothingly. I stare at it. Usually, I joke when I’m being shown one ounce of compassion or pity, because I don’t think I deserve it, because I don’t think I was there enough for Benji. But her touch is intoxicating, like she understands me. Like she knows what I’m going through and wants to help.
“There’s something else.” She hesitates and there’s so much fear in her eyes that I breach the distance between us and pull her to me.
“I get it, you’re scared, and I don’t want to force you to do anything you don’t want to. If you want to be friends first, that’s fine by me. If you can look past the gossip and the pressure and my past.”
“Your past?”
“After Olivia, I kind of went overboard with enjoying the attention I was getting.”
“Is that code for you slept around?”
“A lot.” I kiss the top of her head and am so tempted to run my hands underneath her silky cream-colored shirt. Her skin is smooth, darker than mine, and I love the way she feels. “Listen, I’m going to get out of your way, let you go talk to the director of your ballet company. Remind him, he can’t say anything until mid-afternoon, or Grégoire is going to lose it. Big time.”
She opens her mouth but I continue. “We’ll talk about this again. Maybe tonight?”
“Tonight?”
“If your director is okay, we’re going to go over the script later this afternoon.” I slap my forehead and then wince, because the pain is still pretty strong. “I forgot, I’m supposed to ask you about your friend…Alisha.”
“Steve asked you?” She smiles and this time it’s genuine and it takes all my self-control to not steal a kiss, because she’s still so close, so warm, so soft and sweet.
“He did. It seemed Alisha really impressed him, but she kind of pushed him away.”
“I can get the story from her. At least, try to. She seemed to like him, but she kind of closed up fast when we talked about it.”
I wrap my arms tighter around her and lift her off the floor for a bear hug, kiss the top of her head again, then her cheek and her neck… she doesn’t stiffen in my arms, instead there’s a throaty sound that gets me instantly hard. I let her back down and mumble, “I’ll see you later…” before gathering my clothes, wallet and phone in a hurry.
Once I’m out, I take a deep breath.
She surprises me by opening the door again, with the bag of croissants. “Here, take one at least, you’re going to need it.”
And she’s right.