Adrian Lessons (18 page)

“So we can still be friends,” she says in a small voice.

I bore into her eyes with my own. “We haven’t been just friends for a while. We’ve been more than that. You know it’s true.”

She mumbles something indistinct.

“You have to understand how I feel about you.” My voice cracks. I sound pathetic, but I can’t stop. The doors have opened. “This has never been just about wanting your body. Not for one second. I want your heart so much more. I want it, because you already have mine.”

“Adrian…” she whispers.

“I need you,” I say raggedly. “Every piece of you. Your flaws, your fears, your craziness…you make me into a whole person. A better person. I can’t go back to being in pieces after finding out what it feels like to be whole.”

Her eyes are swimming. I can tell how hard she’s trying not to cry. She squeezes my arm.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “But we have to go back inside.”

“Can’t we just talk—”

But she disappears inside the restaurant.

The rest of dinner is torture. Therese talks excitedly, completely oblivious. I do my best to dodge her hand, which roams onto my shoulder, my leg, but I know Cleo notices anyway.

I want to get up. I want to storm out of the restaurant. I want to abandon this charade.

But I know doing that would just hurt Cleo more.

So I make conversation. I order the steak. I pay for dinner. All the while, Cleo smiles and nods and I’m amazed that Therese doesn’t notice the sadness just below the surface.

And when I finally drive Cleo home, the only thing she says to me is goodbye.

~18~

TWO WEEKS LATER

“Good, Adrian, good. Now walk toward the camera. Slowly. Lift that chin. Give me a look like you’re a little dangerous…okay, maybe not
that
dangerous.”

I realize I’m glaring at the photographer like I’m about to pull his guts out through his mouth. I breathe out through my nose and let my expression settle back into the natural state its had for the past two weeks. Which is to say, vaguely murderous.

Apparently that’s what White Steel wants for their new brand.

“Perfect!” the photographer is yelling. He’s a few inches shorter than me and a hell of a lot scrawnier. I could tie him into a knot and toss him over my shoulder. He seems to realize this the same moment I do, because he stops his shouting and backs off.

“That’s just great, Mr. King. We won’t be needing any more from you today.”

He says
today
, like I’ll be back next week for a second round. I snort.

“That was amazing, Adrian!”

I turn, only for a gorgeous girl to wrap herself around me. Which isn’t normally something a guy would complain about, but ever since Cleo, I’ve kind of lost interest in the opposite sex.

And everything else.

“You’re a natural,” Naomi Senecal purrs. I’ve known her for two days of this three-day shoot, and she’s been acting like I’ve known her for a lot longer. “No wonder they fought to nab you. You’re everything White Steel represents. Intense, a little scary…and sexy.”

She runs a finger over my chest. I fight the urge to shudder. Naomi is the model White Steel used to pitch their line of women’s clothing—sleek, shiny, and professional.

She’s sleek, but she’s definitely not professional.

“We should go out for some drinks tonight.” She bumps her hip against mine. “The two new faces of White Steel. The paparazzi will love it.”

“First of all.” I put a good few inches of space between us. “I’m not the new face of White Steel. I’m doing this one shoot because I promised a friend, but there’s no way they’re using me to launch their new line. So the paparazzi has no interest in me. Second, I’m taken.”

“Taken?” Naomi snorts, her face hardening. “A guy like you, in a committed relationship? Are you serious? You should be out there, playing the field.”

“Let me guess,” I sigh. “You’re in the field.”

“Maybe.” Her fingers dance coyly over my arm. “It’s up to you to find out.”

The old me would have happily slept with Naomi. She’s a famous model, up and coming, with her face in more than a few magazines. And for a second, I try to get a bit of that old me back. The spark fizzles and dies.

“Sorry.” I turn away. “Maybe next time.”

She pouts. “You just said you won’t be back.”

I shrug and walk away.

They flew me to New York for the shoot. I wouldn’t have minded driving—it might have cleared my head, at least—but White Steel insisted on paying for the first-class ticket. And they hinted they’d love to pay for another one, to the Caribbean, for next month’s shoot.

But to be honest, all I’m interested in doing is sitting in my hotel room, opening up another six-pack, and trying to forget.

Suddenly, I feel a hand on my arm. I’m ready to shake Naomi off again, but it’s Arianna.

“I’m so proud of you, kiddo.” Her eyes are shining. “They’re saying they’ve never seen anyone with more natural talent. They want you, Adrian. They want you to be the new face of their brand.”

“Not interested.”

“You couldn’t ask for a better career, you know,” she tries. “All the comforts you could ever ask for. World travel, paid for. Fame and influence. The paparazzi become a pain after a while, but they’re easy enough to slip. Not many people get this opportunity.”

“And I only got it because I’m the son of Arianna,” I shrug. “That shine’ll wear off soon enough.”

“That may be why they asked for you in the first place, but it’s not why they want to keep you.”

“Don’t care.”

“Adrian King!”

She grabs my shoulder and gives me a hard shake.

“I know you’re still upset about this girl. But you need to settle on something to do with your life. You’re directionless, and you have been for a long time. This heartbreak is just making it worse.”

“So what do you suggest I do?” I say coldly. “Let go? Forget I ever met her? Because I can’t do that.”

“That’s not what I was going to suggest,” says Arianna tightly. “You should fight for her.”

“I can’t.” I run my hand through my hair. “We didn’t have a fight. I didn’t do anything wrong, and neither did she. The reason she cut things off was beyond my control. Her sister fell for me, and her relationship with her sister is very important to her. She doesn’t want to hurt her—”

“That’s bullshit,” Arianna cuts in.

I stare at her. “It’s Cleo’s choice. I’m not going to push her.”

“Also bullshit. The thing with the sister is just an excuse. Do you like her sister?”

“No. Of course not. I don’t even know her.”

“You’ve never done anything with her?”

“Jesus, no!”

“Then it doesn’t matter. It’s just a tiny blip, and Cleo’s latched on to it and is using it as an excuse to pull away. I like that girl, but there’s one thing I’ve thought about her from the beginning—that she’s afraid to hold on. That she’ll let go the first chance she gets, so she won’t be let go of first.”

I look away. “And you’re the expert.”

“Yes. I am the expert on girls like Cleo. I was like her once.” She gives me another shake. “And you need to prove to her that you’re in this for the long haul.”

“I’ve been trying to prove that since the day I ran into her out here.”

“You need to prove it, and then prove it again. You’re not a kid anymore. It’s time you step up and be a man. It’ll be hard, but I promise you, it’ll be worth it. You’re taking your life seriously for the first time. That means she’s something special.”

“She is,” I murmur.

Arianna releases my shoulder. “Then don’t let her go.”

~19~

CLEO

Tonight’s the night. The night I’m going to give him everything.

He tears off my clothes, his gaze searing me. His green eyes burn me inside and out. I’m so ready for this. More ready than I’ve ever been. He kisses me like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do—and it is. When I open my eyes, he’s vanished. Gone. He never existed

“Shit,” I mutter. “Let’s start over.”

Tonight’s the night. The night I’m going to give him everything.

I open the door to let him in, only to find him making out with my ex-boyfriend in the hallway

I bash my head on the keyboard. “What is
wrong
with me?”

Tonight was going to be the night. But I changed my mind. Before he arrives, I pack a quick bag and change into the ankle-length habit I ordered off the internet. It’s time to get thee to a nunnery

“Cleo,” Marie’s voice floats down. “You cannot make my main character into a nun.”

“Why not?” I demand. “Nuns live a great life. They get to dress up like penguins, they hang out inside all day, they don’t have to talk to boys. What’s the problem?”

“The problem is that my deadline is at the end of this month and Amelia and Jonathan haven’t had sex yet!” She slams her fist down on my desk and scans the rest of the page. “And Jonathan has blue eyes, not green.”

I mutter to myself.

“What was that?”

“I said, Jonathan can go jump in a lake. Preferably a lake filled with acid and fire. How’s that for a good ending?”

I expect Marie to sigh and whack me over the head, but instead she leans against my desk and strokes my hair. “You need to talk to Adrian.”

“I do not, in fact. The only things I need are air and food and water and Netflix. The cardinal elements essential to human survival. Do you see talking to Adrian on that list? No? Me neither.”

“You’re acting like you’re mad at him,” says Marie softly. “But he didn’t do anything wrong.”

I throw up my hands. “I know he didn’t. It’s not his fault that my sister fell for him. But I’m not the kind of girl who steals guys from her sister. I’m just not.”

“That’s really all it is? You just don’t want Therese to be mad at you?”

I mumble something.

Marie leans closer. “What?”

“Jeez, Marie. I’m getting you a hearing aid for your next birthday. I said…yes, I don’t want Therese to be mad at me. I also know that no guy would ever pick me over Therese. So I’m killing two birds with one stone, really. One is the bird where my sister hates me, and one is the bird where Adrian ditches me for her. Stupid shitty birds.”

Marie lets out a long breath. “I knew it.”

“I hate it when people say that.”

“You cut Adrian off because you’re afraid he’d do it first.”

“Pshhhh. Maybe I also find him deeply unattractive.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure that’s why you were yelling in your sleep the other night,
Adrian, harder, do it harder—!”

“I was dreaming that we were playing Whack-a-Mole,” I sniff. “You can only win if you swing the mallet hard enough.”

“He cares about you, Cleo. And you’re throwing that away because of your own insecurities. He got too close and you got scared.”

“What makes you the expert?” I snap. “You’ve never even had a boyfriend.”

She gestures around at the romance novels everywhere. “Uh, hello? All I do is read about relationships.”

I scowl and spin around in my chair. “Well, it doesn’t matter anyway. We haven’t talked in ages. He’s probably forgotten all about me. It’s just not going to work out.”

“Oh, it will too,” says Marie. “This is classic. The couple almost gets together, and then something happens to drive them apart toward the end. But then they make up and have mind-blowing sex. It’s level one romance stuff.”

“Blah blah blah, I’m Marie and I spend too much time reading lady porn so I think I know everything, blah blah.”

“Now you’re just being childish.”

I stick my tongue out, definitely not proving her point.

“Look,” she sighs. “If you won’t do it for me, do it for you. I’m desperate. My deadline’s coming up and I’ve been trying to write the sex scenes on my own, but everything I come up with is terrible. You need to have one more session with Adrian. Then you can write the last scene and I’ll leave you alone.”

“I can write it on my own.”

She raises an eyebrow. “I’m looking at this page and you have Jonathan disappearing from the face of the universe and turning gay, respectively.”

“Well, maybe romance readers need to challenge their expectations a little! Sometimes that’s how it works out in the real world!”

“In the real world, people face their fears.” Marie gently removes my hands from my face, where I’ve been hiding my eyes. “And they’re better for it.”

“I’d rather face the TV. I need to finish Breaking Bad.”

I’m starting to get up when her hand clamps down on my wrist.

“One more session,” she pleads. “For me. As your friend. Then I promise I’ll never bring Adrian up again.”

I’m about to say no, but her eyes are so damn desperate. And it’s not like agreeing to fake hook up with him is agreeing to take him back into my life, right? It’s just research. Purely clinical.

“Okay,” I say before I know I’m saying it.

She pumps a fist in the air and runs out of the room before I can take it back.

~20~

ADRIAN

I have to steel myself before knocking on her door.

Marie answers. Her face brightens when she sees me. “Adrian! It’s been way too long. You left me with a mopey roommate and a useless co-writer.”

“MarieshutupbeforeImurderyou,” a voice calls from inside. Cleo’s voice. The breath catches in my throat.

“Thanks for coming,” Marie says, and lets me in.

Cleo is sitting at the kitchen table, staring at her feet like they’re telling an excellent story. I can breathe easy again, seeing her. Just knowing she’s fine and whole. Even if there are bags under her eyes.

“Hey,” I say quietly.

She looks up, and her eyes meet. Panic flashes there. “Oh, hello! What a surprise, seeing you here!”

I can’t help it. I smile, just a little bit. I’m so damn happy to see her. “This is your apartment. And you guys invited me here. So it’s not really a surprise, is it?”