I straighten my back as Rose's words of encouragement run through my mind. I can do this. I tell myself it's only an internship. With a major photographer. Who's stressing?
I am. I am stressing.
I sigh as I make my way across the field to where my boss is currently yelling at one of his assistants for a hotter coffee. I recognize his stuffy, pompous voice from the few phone calls we shared over the past few weeks. A terrified assistant hurries past me, barely registering anything besides the coffee currently spilling over the mug and onto her hand. She curses, then fades out of my vision.
I gulp in a breath of air and make my way over to Roderick, Spencer's main assistant. He recognizes me and smiles easily when he sees me.
"Lissa, darling," he leans down to kiss my cheek. I kiss his in turn. "I trust you found the place alright?"
I nod, smiling. "Yes, it's a bit farther away from school than I expected, but I had no difficulties. Thank goodness for GPS."
Roderick pulls a cell phone out of his pocket and begins to press a few buttons. "I'm glad you got here so early. Are you ready to start working?"
"Absolutely," I say. "Ah, but… what are we doing exactly?"
From what I can gather Spencer has an entire crew in the desert for a photo shoot, but for whom and what purpose I have no clue. Roderick just smiles and hitches his head for me to follow him. He takes off walking away from me, pointing out where things are, and answering any questions I have. He tells me we're out here doing a shoot for a local Moroi artist who's trying to breakout- he apparently has a lot of money but wants to keep his identity a secret for now.
I raise my eyebrows at Roderick's last statement. "Secret? If he's making an album cover with his face on it, isn't that sort of counterproductive?"
"Ah, sweetheart. That's why he hired Spencer. He will give the artist everything he asked for, and so much more." Roderick winks at me. "Just wait and see."
As I continue walking with Roderick, my mind wanders to the artist. I think about why a musician would go to the trouble of making an album cover with just their body, and not their face. Was it the artist's penchant for being quirky or creative? Either way, I realize I don't understand it. You would think he'd want his face and name exploding along with his music; I guess I am wrong.
I think back to my own experiences to hiding with Rose, my own terrible experiences, and I cringe. I envy his ability to choose between absolute anonymity or total loss of private space. I never had the choice; it was taken from me a long time ago.
I look around me at the vast scenery Spencer (or the artist?) picked out for the shoot. The field is surrounded by mountains and begs the statement "purple majesty." The flowers here have been long dead, however, with only weeds popping up around my shoes. The dirt is a dark brown red that I'm fascinated by and I know I won't be able to get out of my clothes or shoes for a long time yet. I don't mind. It's a dead, cold thing living out here, but the mountains, beautiful and green in the back give it an unusual feeling like I'm stuck in another world, and maybe if I reach out to touch them I could…
"Lissa?" Roderick is smiling down at me, worried. "Are you alright?"
I realize I've been staring at the mountains in a daze. I shake my head, clearing out the cobwebs of past dreams.
"Yes," I smile. "I'm perfect." I lie.
That's when I hear a shout in one of the trailers across from us. The raised voice is male and angry, but I can't make out what he is saying. The voice quiets after a minute and everything is silent again. The entire project team, I notice, has stopped working and has held it's breath. Waiting for Spencer to say something? I'm not sure. Spencer is sitting in his chair as if the whole scene hasn't happened. I turn to Roderick whose lips are thinned with disapproval and white around the edges.
"What was that?" I ask, curiosity getting the better of me. I can't help my eyes flicking back to the trailer. I realize on closer inspection it's the makeup trailer. Hmmm.
"Artists," Roderick grumbles to me. "Same damn thing every time. Do you mind finding Emily and seeing if she could use some help? I need to handle this."
"Sure," I reply, surprised. "No problem."
Roderick only smiles vaguely and walks away towards the trailer, leaving me behind to deal with finding the girl named Emily. I look around at the employees, assistants, and camera crews rushing around trying to get their jobs finished and lights put into the perfect position. I feel small and useless compared to them. I wring my hands and take a step forward until I feel a brush of fingers on the inside of my elbow.
I turn around, startled. "Yes-?"
I'm greeted by dark eyes like chocolate melted in the sun, glossed over with a warm smile that makes me melt equally as easily. His hair is brown with tints of red highlighted by the afternoon sun and I feel my face warm. Everything is warm, liquid heat and I am smiling in return.
"You're Vasilisa, right?" he asks me. I've read in books that hero's usually speak in "voices that dripped like rich honey" and I always laughed at the ridiculous description, but I'm not laughing now. His voice is deep, subtly southern and instantly comforting.
"Y-Yes?" I stammer. Wow, impressive Liss. A+ on banter, I can hear Rose say in my head.
"I heard what Roderick said. I can show you who Emily is, if you want?" he cocks his head. "You looked a little lost when Roderick walked away."
I breathe out a sigh of relief. "Thanks, I'd really appreciate that."
"It's no problem," he smiles wider. "I'm Donovan. I basically run the electronics around here."
"Run the electronics?" I immediately feel bad. "You must be pretty busy then… I can find Emily on my own."
We are now walking away from the trailer, towards the front of the area where multiple tables were set up, supporting expensive laptops and bigger screens. A few people were finishing up screwing in light bulbs and tinkering with a few of the light settings. I see one man bring out a guitar and lay it down carefully off set. I wonder if it's part of the shoot.
"Nah, we were basically finished and anyways," Donovan shifts his shoulders as if suddenly shy. "My mama would have me killed if I had seen you wandering 'round by yourself without helping you out."
"You're mother sounds like a smart woman," I say without thinking.
"Oh, she is." Donovan meets my eyes for a second then glances away, his eyes landing on something in front of us. "Ah, here's Emily."
He walks ahead of me toward a shorter girl with cropped red hair and a generous amount of freckles scattered over her bared skin. She has peculiar blue-green eyes that narrows when she sees Donovan and I approach her. I straighten my shoulders and put on my friendliest smile, hoping to make a good impression. Donovan greets her in a friendly manner which Emily only nods to. He explains to her who I am and what I'm here for.
"You're the intern?" she asks me.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Awesome, you can help me take the extra bulbs back to the cars." She pauses, giving Donovan a cold stare. "You can leave. We don't need you."
I look down, blushing slightly. Why is she being so rude to Donovan? All he'd been was friendly to her and now Emily is rudely telling him to leave?
I hear Donovan's laugh pierce my thoughts. "Ease up, Em."
Emily's face freezes.
I wish the ground would swallow me up.
"See you later… Lissa," Donovan says quietly to me. I nod once without lifting my head. I hear him sigh as he walks away.
A silence stretches between us. I wonder briefly if I'm supposed to say anything, if my behavior with Donovan is unprofessional? I want to fidget but keep perfectly still. I don't want to seem weak in front of this gir-
"Sorry about that." Emily is blushing faintly with her nose crinkled slightly. She looks sheepish, apologetic.
Embarrassed.
I'm staring, caught off guard at the pretty girl in front of me. She's smiling slightly as if to win my good graces. I smile in return, curious as to what could cause the sudden mood change.
"Donovan and I… we don't get along very well; we push each other's buttons." She starts playing with a strand of her hair. "I'm sorry you got caught in the middle of it."
I want to say that I don't understand how anyone could not like Donovan. But I sense there's more to the story than she's comfortable telling, so I don't push her.
I smile. "It's no problem. What do you need help with?"
For the next half hour we carry boxes of lightbulbs to and from the van, chatting. Emily surprises me with her quirky sense of humor and ability to make me laugh. I learn she is in college at a nearby school for photography and took this job a year ago for experience. She loves it, "even though the pay is shit."
"You put up with Spencer for this long?" I whisper conspiratorially as we walk back from putting the last box back.
"Sure, if it gives me the experience I need. Besides, good old Spence isn't nearly as bad as you think he is," Sarah grins at me.
"Oh, really?" I look over to where he was currently yelling at someone for putting a light two feet too far to the right.
"Okay, maybe he is a pain in the ass." I laugh and continue walking back. Roderick is waiting for us.
"What's the word, Rod?" Emily asks.
Roderick only slices his eyes to Emily in an indulgent way. "The artist is done with makeup. We're ready to get started."
I'm instantly reminded how eager I am to see the mysterious artist who hired Spencer's expertise. Emily just snorts at the information.
"His highness is finally finished in there?"
Roderick gives her a hard look. "Emily, behave. You know the conditions of this client."
"Aye, aye, Captain." Emily waves a salute to Roderick. I have to smother back a smile. Roderick looks back and forth between us then pinches the bridge of his nose between his eyes.
"Lissa, try to keep her behaved, will you? I'm counting on you."
"Wha- me? But, isn't she my superior?" I ask, my smile completely gone. What was Roderick thinking?
"Easy, kiddo. We'll have a blast together. I won't hold it against you for babysitting me," she said, linking arms with me.
"I hope not, considering it's an order." Roderick looks behind him right as a makeup team begins streaming out of the trailer. "I need to go. Remember. Behave."
Emily and I watch him walk away towards the crowd for a few steps before she turns towards me with a stern expression. She points at my face with a pale, thin finger spattered with freckles.
"'Behave!'" she growls in an imitation of Roderick's voice. A giggle slips out before I slap a hand over my mouth, then an actual laugh brakes free from my lips. Soon, Emily and I are clutching each other's arms and giggling like teenage girls. I find myself surprised that we bonded so quickly but glad I found a friend all the same.
"Emily… who's… the artist… that hired Spencer?" I ask in between gulps of air.
Emily wipes under her eyes. "Oh, he's some arrogant Royal Moroi-shit! I wasn't supposed to tell anyone that."
"He's a Royal? Are you serious?" I am instantly sober and curiosity is warring inside of me. I wonder who he is, if I know him… I haven't heard of any new rumors floating around of a Royal going rogue and making a career for himself in the music world.
Emily sighs and rubs her hands over her face. When she lowers them, her gaze is sharp and intent on my face.
"You're a Royal too, right?" she asks, carefully as if treading on broken ground.
I answer just as carefully. "Yes…"
Emily is still staring in my face. "Then if I told you his name it probably won't be a big deal, considering you're both Royals, and both probably know each other?"
My heartbeat picks up. I really want to know who this mysterious Moroi is.
"Emily!" I cry, shaking her arm. "Stop being dramatic and just tell me his name."
She smirks. "Chr-"
"Girls! Stop standing around and pay attention to the lights," a manager calls from a yew yards away.
I jump out of my skin, guilty at having been caught playing Gossip Intership with Emily when we should be working.
I silently curse myself. Pay attention, Lissa. You're not here to think about boys. Especially not Mysterious Morois.
"Okay, let's get the lights ready for His Highness," Emily giggles.
I'm not sure if she means Spencer or the artist anymore.
—-
I am busy running around for Emily the next hour. She needs a stool, she needs water, she needs a wrench, we need this and that. I don't mind it though. I love staying busy and she's a wonderful girl to work with. Between errands we're talking and laughing; I try to catch glimpses of the artist, but I'm too busy. I get a sighting of a pair of black jeans, leather jacket, but that's it. I'm itching to know who he is, this mysterious Royal, but my job keeps me too busy to do much else besides catch glances as I run past.
Donovan seems to pop up at random intervals throughout the day asking if I need anything. My stomach flips as he smiles and tuck his hands in pockets. Every time Emily sends me off to collect something else for her, I look forward to Donovan popping up and falling into step beside me. He has a new joke or funny story to tell me, sometimes even complimenting my appearance.
I'm flustered and happy by his attention.
After four hours of shooting, one of the managers call for a lunch break. I stand and stretch out the muscles in my back and legs.
"Where are the restrooms here?" I ask Emily, looking around.
She face-palms. "I totally meant to ask you earlier before we got started. They're behind the trailers, across the field. See?"
She points behind the makeup trailer and another, huge, expensive trailer that must be the artist's. I look behind and see an equally nice portable restroom sitting behind them all. I raise my eyebrows.
"Wow, pulled out all the stops for the bathrooms, huh?"
"Only the best for us."
I shake my head. "I'll be back."
I walk across towards the bathrooms keeping my head down, thinking about the Royal again. I wonder what would possess such a dramatic move? The Moroi are always working to keep our kind hidden from the humans, but now he wants to join them? In complete society?
It sounded like heaven, if I was being completely honest with myself.
I think back to the bodyguards I had to beg to stay back at my college campus. I remember explaining my situation to Roderick and he understood completely, but I am still embarrassed. Rose was livid when I told her I wanted even her to stay behind. I knew she hated being separated, but I needed to do this for myself.
I want to be more than my title. More than a girl with bodyguards. If I brought them on my first day of the internship, what does that say about m-
I'm lost in my thoughts and not paying attention. I bump into someone. My mouth floods with apologies before my eyes make the journey up long legs. Impossibly long legs. In familiar black jeans. I look up further, my eyes taking in his white v-neck, now minus the leather jacket. His arms were thin but corded with muscle. My mind flashes with the glances I stole from earlier and I hold my breath, excitement beating hard and fast through my body.
It's the artist.
"Are you just going to stand there and stare or move?" he growled. "I'd prefer move."
"You're a Royal," I blurt out. I quickly clap my hand over my mouth. I can feel myself blushing.
Stupid, Stupid, Stupid
"Yeah, so?" I can't look away from the pulse in his throat. I can't meet his eyes. I'm too embarrassed.
I'm not sure how to respond to his blatant response. He obviously doesn't care that he'll be going against everything the Moroi's have worked for.
I envy his attitude. I wish I don't, but I do.
"I recognize you, you know." His hand comes up to scratch his chin; my green eyes snap up to meet his. I regret it. I remember him now.
Oh, how I remember him.
His name is Christian Ozera and he was known for breaking rules at Court. Unlike Adrian Ivashkov, who broke rules openly and outrageously, with the biggest show possible, Christian did it in subtle ways as to not attract attention. But he did.
He always did.
I remember watching him break the rules over and over again never bending to our way of life. I remember being intrigued by the little boy with the glittering blue eyes, burning with rage and sorrow and grief. I befriended him. I smiled, talked to him. I found out what it meant to be on that side of all of that fire and grief and rage.
But with all of that heat came an iciness I hadn't seen coming.
I learned Christian was as broken as they come. He didn't break rules for the fun of it. He broke them to make sure he was still alive; to keep himself sure of his sanity. The whole time I was with him I wasn't near the vicinity of his world. I was miles away from him.
I ran. I ran as far away from him as I could and I never looked back.
Until now.
—-
What do I say to him?
I can't think of a single word. Vowel, consonant, noun, verb.
Nothing.
I'm staring. Stiff as a board at the boy I wish I could run away from again. But I can't because this is different. I am different.
"Christian," I whisper. It might be a plea. I'm not sure anymore.
"Lissa. It's been awhile," his smile is crooked. His eyes are covered by dark sunglasses making it impossible to see what he's thinking. His black hair is styled into a perfect mess making him into a flawless image of the dangerous, foolish, terrifying nightmare I left behind.
I swallow, hard.
How is he taking our meeting again?
Did he know I was coming?
My heart is a fluttering bird ready to take off straight through my chest; my hands are sweaty. I've given up on trying to move towards the bathrooms. I'm rooted where I am. Torn between screaming and silence.
"Christian… I-I didn't know you were going to be here," I say through a dry mouth. I lick my lips.
He smiles like I've said something funny. I suddenly want to slap him. "Of course you didn't. It's in my contract," his voice is a whisper, velvety soft.
"I know, my friend-" I turn my head to point behind me. "Emily told me you asked them not to…" I trail off.
As I turn my head, talking, Christian takes a step towards me, invading me. Everywhere. His smell is in every one of my senses, I can count the hairs on his chest, I can see the erratic pulse in his throat perfectly.
I
cannot
breathe
anything but him.
I feel trapped by Christian, by all of him. I feel like a fly who has accidentally flown into a spider's web without knowing, but it's too late to try to escape. I'm staring at him. I feel certain he's staring back at me. Christian still has that infuriating smile on his face.
I realize with a start what we are doing and I take a step back, fixing him with my hardest gaze. "Don't even think it, Ozera."
I'm suddenly angry. Unmistakably, powerfully, angry.
It's beating in my bones, in my feet, through my fingers. My heart still pounds with a past hurt as he stares at me like I'm a cute puppy trying out it's first bark.
"I'm not thinking anything, Lis."
"No," I hiss. "You lost the right to call me that after…" I halt, eyes burning, throat shutting down. I feel my face flame but don't care.
Christian's mouth twists. With disappointment? I almost want to laugh, but I'm not sure I'll ever be able to laugh around Christian again. He reaches out towards me but I move back, out of his reach.
"Lis, don't be diff-" he starts to say, his voice pounding with sorrow and something else I pretend not to hear. I pretend not to recognize.
Remorse.
Misery.
"Is everything okay here?" Donovan. I want to fall into a puddle of relief.
I also feel a flicker of annoyance, but I smother it quickly.
"It's fin-" Christian begins but I cut him off.
"Actually," I reply, studiously avoiding Christian's gaze. I turn towards Donovan, smiling brilliantly into his face. "I think I need an escort to the restroom. Do you mind?"
Donovan's face is a little bewildered, still worried, looking between the two of us. I can tell he's caught between saying yes and being a gentlemen or saying no and being an upstanding employee to the man who hired Spencer's company. I feel Christian burning a hole into my head through his sunglasses (I remember his eyes I wish I don't).
"Sure, Lissa," Donovan agrees, tentatively. "They're right over here."
I nod eagerly, thankful to turn away from Christian. We were out in the open but I feel claustrophobic around him. I push down all the feelings threatening to resurface because Christian happened to waltz back into my life at one of the most inopportune moments. I let Donovan lead me away towards the bathrooms without looking back.
—-
I can't get her face out of my mind.
I shove my hands through my hair, pulling the strands painfully, in the vain hope that will get her face burned out of my eyes. I can't see anything but her. I dream about her at night; sometimes sweet, calming, and others intense, passionate that wake me wanting.
I'm scared. I'm frightened.
She's hit me head on like a train and all I do is want want want
I begin to pace up and down my apartment. I need to end it- but how? I feel my stomach twist and my breakfast of scotch and aspirin threaten to overflow my throat. I can't do it. I won't do it. She is everything; I am nothing without Vasilisa Dragomir.
I smile. She hates it when I call her Vasilisa.
I groan and close my eyes as I remember how much she loves it when I call her Lis.
Lis. My Lis.
My muse.
I start as I hear frantic knocking. My heart skips a beat and I'm running into the entry, pulling open the door to Rose Hathaway and Lis.
My Lis.
I put on a casual air. Rose and I have never treated each other like friends and I am not about to start now.
"What do you want?" I ask, rudely, looking directly to Rose. "What is she doing here?" I say this to Lis.
"Move, Ozera. We don't have time for your crap." Rose spoke in a harsh tone. It broke no argument; I look to Lis with an eyebrow raised, but I don't move.
"I don't hear a 'please' anywhere in that sentence, Hathaway." I know it isn't wise to piss Rose off when she is in a mood, but I don't care. She isn't my mother.
Lis whispers something to Rose who narrows her eyes, then looks towards me. She shakes her head, whispers something back. Lis looks pleadingly at her and says, "Please, just a few minutes. You can stay right outside the door."
I get a nervous tingle throughout my body at her words. My body clenches and I start sweating but I don't show any of this. I just sweep my eyes over the two of them.
"What is going on? Why are you two whispering?" I ask, trying to stay calm.
"You have five minutes, Lissa. Then we need to go," Rose looks at her meaningfully. Lis nods in return, completely serious.
I'm numb.
I smile crookedly towards Lis as I close the door in Rose's annoyed face. It's satisfying.
"What's up, Lis?" I say, crossing my arms over my chest.
"Can we sit, Christian?" I nod, barely focusing on what I'm doing. I lead her to the couch. She sits delicately on the edge with her hands folded in her lap, shoulders straight. I am sprawled out in as rude of a position I can get myself.
I notice her take in my position with her green, green eyes quickly and a faint red stains her cheeks. I smile a little but it disappears as soon as she speaks again.
"I'm leaving," she blurts. She looks horrified for a second then she rushes on. "Rose and I need to leave. This morning. Now. Circumstances have… changed. It's too dangerous for me here."
She pauses. Takes a deep breath.
"I want you to come with me, Christian." She places her hand on mine, I feel my hand go from too hot to too cold. I feel my body contract and clench with fear.
I can't I can't I can't
runs through my mind.
I realize then as I stare at her all I want to do is run away with Lis. It's all I've ever wanted. I think back to every moment I shared with her, every touch, every time she made me laugh. I never wanted our time to end.
I'm numb.
She's looking around the room at anything but me. I ignore the blackness around my vision, the cold that threatens to engulf me. I feel slightly off, like I'm looking through a distorted mirror and I'm confused. I clench my fist and do the only thing I'm good at.
I
break
everything
If you ask me what I said to her I won't tell you. I will tell you I told her everything I could to make her get off the couch and believe everything everyone has ever said about me. Every lie, every whisper, every rumor, every tiny needle of hurt that pinpricked my skin and drew blood, I made her believe in that moment.
I'm numb.
So
very
numb.
Everything outside of me is unfeeling. Everything inside of me is ripping apart and bleeding.
I want her to see through my mask; I want her to believe in everything I've said to her this past month. Every word I whispered from my heart through my lips straight to her, this girl, who completely overtook me in a single breath. With her smile, her laugh, her blush, the feel of her fingertips. I am like an addict.
I am not good for her. I cannot go with her.
I remember her pleading to come with her. I remember her refusing to believe this was the real me. I remember laughing and flinging rocks and stones of malice only to have them bounce off her back to me, killing me slowly. I use her naivety to my advantage; I feel sick for it. I tell her how stupid she must have been to believe my lies.
I was the true fool to believe I would hold onto love.
I am tainted. I am a blot a blemish on her pristine existence.
"Why would I want to leave this place, Vasilisa?" my voice was calm. I am raging inside. "I have everything here that I need. What would I have with you? Hmmm?"
"You would have me, Christian." Her voice was one of sad determination. An unyielding edge of punishment for my senses.
I laugh cruelly; mockingly.
I die inside.
How ironic.
All I've ever wanted was her.
Shortly after, Rose came in and ushers her out. I am glad.
Lis looks at me one last time, slowly shaking her head, her eyes a thousand different shades of disappointment.
—-
I leave two months later.
—-
I don't follow her or find her.
I never try to contact her.
I haven't stopped thinking about her.
I haven't seen her since.
It's been four years.
—
Until now.
—-
I stifle a groan as I help adjust the light a photographer insisted yet again was too far to the left. My muscles are aching ferociously but I'm hiding the pain. I don't want to be labeled as the intern who complained on the first day.
I see Donovan stroll over as I straighten up and wipe my forehead.
"Hey," he says simply, grinning.
"Hey, yourself." I return his smile.
"So, that was pretty weird, with Christian…" He looks at me through his lashes and I lose my train of thought a little.
"I know, I…" I trail off as I glance behind Donovan.
I notice Emily standing a few yards away watching us with a sad expression. I start a little. She glances away and continues to adjust the light in front of her, erasing any evidence that she had been staring at Donovan and I. I clear my throat and turn back towards Donovan whose patiently waiting for my answer.
I tuck away Emily for later.
"He's someone I knew back home," I tell him. My tone is stiff, flat. I don't want to answer questions about Christian.
He puts his hands up, smiling easily. "No problem, we don't have to talk about it."
I blow out a breath I didn't know I had been holding. "Thanks. What are you doing over here anyways?"
"I came over to see if you wanted to help me for a bit, actually. I have some work to do up front," Donovan has hands in his pockets, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
"I don't know… I don't want to interact with Christian," I wrinkle my nose. My heart races saying his name. I squelch the urge to say yes in order to watch him.
What is wrong with me?
Christian left me in fragments for his own amusement. He took our happiness and threw it back in my face with a laugh that spilled into my soul like a grease stain. I still wake up to dreams of sweat and cries and fingernails and whispers and I need need need but he never did.
And he never will.
I stifle everything I am feeling with my own two hands. I strangle it until it's handcuffed and gagged in the corner of my mind. My heart is beating slowly and painfully.
Rose sometimes tells me that Christian turned me into a cold unfeeling thing but I have to disagree.
He taught me to feel everything.
—-
Donovan leads me to where the laptops are set up with the bigger screens. I'm amazed at the photographs on each one. There are several people at each laptop looking over each picture, choosing which one is a good shot and which needs to be thrown out. They're buzzing, constantly moving, zooming in and out, rushing around to make sure they don't throw out the wrong picture. I'm sort of in awe at the work they put into the process.
"Pretty crazy, right?" Donovan asks.
"Yeah," I reply, dazed. "Thanks for bringing me up here to watch this."
"It's no problem," Donovan smiles. "You seemed kinda down after you ran into him. I figured you'd like to see something cool to cheer you up."
I fidget. I really don't want to talk about Christian.
"Hey," Donovan touches my arm softly. "I'm not going to pressure you to talk about him. Don't worry."
I smile up to him gratefully. Donovan's reassurance also reminds me of something else.
"Hey, Donovan, I know it's kind of hypocritical of me to say this but can I ask you something?"
"Of course," he says, surprise lighting his face.
I bite my cheek, and decide to dive in. "What's going on with you and Emily?"
"W-What?" he's startled. His face is embarrassment, relief, and sorrow. I know that look.
"Donovan, what's going on? Did something happen with you two?" I keep my voice soft.
He shakes his head. His smile has long since faded. His face is etched with sadness; my heart is cracking, my mouth wanting to pour open with words of nothing more than worthless comforts. "It's nothing. We have our differences. That's all."
I think of Emily's face, her stormy sea eyes carefully watching us and I blurt out, "You're lying. It's something else. You two- you love- you loved each other?"
His brown eyes widen slightly. "How-? Did Emily-?"
I shake my head. "No. But-"
"Do. You. Mind." We jump out of our skin. Christian is standing two feet away from us. His face is granite with anger radiating off of him and connecting to me.
"We're trying to do a shoot and you two are standing here having a lover's spat? I'm getting nauseated watching. If you don't mind take it some place else." He crosses his arms over his chest, a ghost of a smile frosting his lips.
I don't buy it for a second.
I'm sizzling heat everywhere. My own anger isn't far from the surface; my own old hurt swimming somewhere in between.
"I'm sorry Christian. I just wanted to show Lissa, here, the process of picking out the photos. We'll try not to be such a distraction." I can hear the effort it took Donovan to apologize to him. I was having a difficult time not reaching across the gap and strangling him myself.
Christian is looking at me. Only at me. I hold my breath and try not to think about how starved I am for him.
"Oh?" I hear the cold amusement in his voice. "He's already calling you Lissa, hmm?"
I blush and clench my jaw but give no response. Why is he doing this? Why?
Donovan clears his throat. "She never disapproved of it."
Christian only raises a perfect black eyebrow at this. I still remain stubbornly silent, daring him to object. He grins in return, seemingly pleased by my reaction.
I'm not sure why.
"Donovan, please tell Spencer I'm taking a short break."
Donovan looks to Christian in confusion. "But, I-"
"Now." Christian's tone is final. Harsh. He's still staring at me. His eyes are so intensely blue I'm drowning, sinking, falling, I know I'll hit the ground soon but I'm too busy flying to care. I feel my pulse pound in my wrists, in my stomach and I beg for Donovan to pull me away with him.
I beg for Donovan to leave us alone.
I think I'm going insane.
Donovan looks anxiously at me for a second and I nod. I have to talk to Christian, I realize. It is inevitable. There was no way I was leaving the property today without having some sort of confrontation with him.
Donovan turns away and walks towards Spencer to deliver Christian's message, leaving me alone with my past and my darkness.
—-
Christian sighs and laughs, running a hand over the back of his neck. "He's protective, isn't he?"
I narrow my eyes. "At least someone is."
Christian's eyes tense, then relax. "Lis-"
I cover my ears. "Don't."
He takes a step towards me. Frustration sweeps off him in waves. "Is this how it's going to be between us? I don't deserve a chance for an explanation? A chance for forgiveness?"
"Do you think you deserve it, Christian? I believed you did once. Look how well that turned out," I don't recognize my own voice. It's full of disdain and bitterness; I hate myself for it. My stomach is churning and I want to throw up.
Christian's face is a mask. "You don't believe that. The Vasilisa I knew wasn't this girl."
I laugh. A horrible, strangled sound. "Well, you molded her into something else a long time ago, didn't you?"
I shove past him to walk, no I'm running now, towards the trailers. I am foolish for thinking I can handle a conversation with Christian. That we can be civilized, that I can be civilized. He's never going to change and I will always be the naive girl that will forever think that he will change.
That he will want to for me.
"Li-Vasilisa, stop," Christian grabs my elbow and spins me around. I shove against his chest(it'swarmit'swarmit'swarm). I'm angry and powerful and threatened and I feel my heart in every muscle of my body. My air is coming too fast
I don't want him to leave me
My eyes are wide and my arms are tense but nothing makes sense besides his eyes taking me in. Everything stops and there's nothing but ice ice ice
His face changes from a cold mask to a familiar vulnerability that is almost my undoing. His fingertips skim my jaw hesitantly and I shake lightly. I can see in his face he's holding back, looking for some sign that I am okay with this. I'm so confused, my mind a jumble of emotions, my heart knocking against my ribs in a song that cries out to join his. My hand reaches up to touch the back of his hand and he's the way I remember; only different.
We're both so different.
This is him
This is my Christian
I barely here him whisper my name.
No, not my name. His name for me.
Lis
It's a caress across my skin. It's a whisper on my tongue. It's his skin pressed against mine. It's his moan in my mouth, his teeth biting in my lip.
My feelings are unbound, undone, reeling with their freedom inside my body and I am defeated by the boy who left me for wrecked four years ago. I press forward and we're colliding like two solar systems bursting with feeling and suddenly I understand what it means to be sucked into a black hole. We're a vortex of feeling of nothing of everything of lips of breath of words I can't understand. His hands are around my back, clinging clinging clinging.
His lips are pressing against my lips, moving a slow journey, tasting, teasing until I'm sure I lose consciousness. I close my eyes and feel every wonder of our little universe between us as he captures me body and soul once again. I was always lying to myself. I understand this now. I see it clearly as I grip his shirt. The t-shirt is smooth cotton but nothing else about Christian is soft.
He moves us back backwards until we're against his trailer. I'm distracted for a second and then my arms are around his neck and he's lifting me up and I'm singing singing singing
We're still kissing frantically like his breath and mine are drugs we've been deprived of and we're the drug addicts finally able to snort our stash. I feel his muscles strain as he holds me up and my hands roam over them feeling searching tracing everything I've missed.
I think absentmindedly that his mouth tastes sweet for someone so easily capable of spewing bitterness.
He removes his mouth from mine and travels down my jaw lightly, reintroducing himself to my corners and secrets and nooks. I shiver and shake and melt while he devours me.
"Lis-" Christian whispers.
My phone rings.
I freeze.
The harshness of the ring brings reality crashing down to me like an avalanche and I'm sucking in air and I feel my being tear in half.
My brain starts to remember through the haze. I remember why I can't trust him. Why I can't be here. Against this trailer. In his arms. My chest collapses as my memories invade me one by one. I start shaking now for a different reason.
"Let me down," I whisper.
Christian hears my tone and his eyes meet mine in surprise. "Lis, no."
"Please," I whisper, agony ripping my voice in two.
He gently sets me down but doesn't step back. "Don't start over-thinking this, Lis."
I'm numb. I need to get away from him. I move to the side and away from him. His eyes follow my every move.
His eyes. His eyes his eyes his eyes. I want to run back into his arms. He looks shocked and dazed halfway between sleep and a daydream. His hair is a mess from where my hands have just been. I can still feel their strands on my fingertips.
He's deadly serious about me staying here. With him.
Ironic that I'm about to tell him no.
"I need to go, Christian," I sidestep him. "This was a mistake. I'm sorry."
"That's it? 'It was a mistake Christian'? And you're running off?" He looks infinitely tired now.
"Yes, I'm sorry." I need to get out of here. I walk around him but his voice stops me.
"I'll make a deal with you," he sounds older, wiser, but also like he's hiding something. I'm uneasy immediately.
"What?" I ask, carefully.
"I'm doing a small gig tonight around 10:30," he shoves his hands into his pockets. "It's nothing serious, just one song at a local bar. It's called Wake-Up Call. I want you to come tonight and hear the song. I wrote it for you. After you left years ago. If you don't like it, you can leave and never talk to me again. I won't come after you or use Spencer again. But if you do like it…"
Christian closed the space between us with my mind singing to run run run while my heart told me he sang the song of a thousand truths.
"You can be sure I will fight for you, Lis. Like I should have fought for you four years ago," he whispered to me.
I stepped back with my thoughts raging a battle I've long since lost and my heart a battle it's always won.
I don't answer him.
—-
After I tell Rose about my day and running into Christian, she's against going to Wake-Up Call at first. I don't tell her how much I want to go. I don't tell her I am eager, anxious, dying, but that it would only be interesting to see what Christian has up his sleeves.
"I can't believe he was there! At your work!" she explodes for the fifth time. "He's lucky I wasn't there. God knows what I would have done if I had seen him."
"I can only imagine," I say wryly.
Rose snorts. "I'm pretty sure you can't. What's this 'song' he wants to play for you again?"
Rose air quotes the word 'song' mockingly. I laugh, then sober.
"Honestly, I'm not sure. He only said he wrote it right after I left home. I can't imagine why he would write anything. It's not like he cared…" I sniffed delicately.
Rose comes and sits next to me. "I'm sorry about that. I know it was four years ago but I still want to pound his pretty face into the pavement for it."
I laugh. "Thanks, Rose. You're a true friend."
She brightens. "Hey, maybe if you don't like the song tonight, I'll get my chance, yeah?"
I laugh even harder. "Rose…. Please just try not to get too carried away."
She winks at me. "Ain't no such thing."
—-
I'm in the middle of fixing my hair when Emily calls me. I'd given her my cell earlier but I'm still surprised to see her calling me.
Something must have happened on the set and they needed me.
Ugh
I answer. "Hey Em-"
Her voice is hard. "What did you say to Donovan?"
I hesitate. I completely forgot about my conversation with Donovan about Emily earlier and now here it was, biting me in the ass.
Great.
"I… I don't know what you're talking about. Why? Did something happen?," I ask, more than a little hopeful.
"He was acting weird today around me."
I figure now is as good a time as any to come clean. "Look, Emily, I know about you and Donovan."
"You what!?" she squeaks across the phone line.
"Yeah, I know you guys used to or still are in love. Right?" I ask.
Emily is silent for a stretch of time. A long stretch of time. "Emily?"
"What?" she sounds defensive.
"Well…"
"Well, what?"
I sigh. "Look, if you don't want to talk about it that's fine. But all that happened between Donovan and I was I figured out. I have no idea what happened between the two of you."
Emily pauses a beat. "Oh."
"Is it that bad?" I ask, hesitantly.
"No," she sighs. "We're just very dysfunctional. But we love each other. A lot. And I miss him so much, all the time. I can't imagine being with anybody else because he's just it for me."
She takes a deep breath and became silent once again. I laugh softly.
"I know the feeling. You know, I think I can help you guys out…."
—-
Rose and I leave our apartment around 9:30 in order to get there in time but it turns out there was no need. The bar is small and out of the way; a hole-in-the-wall. Rose looks around at everything in disdain until she notices a few cute Moroi's eyeing her.
"Should we talk them into buying us drinks?" She wags her eyebrows at me. I giggle.
"I'm not here to drink but you're more than welcome. I don't think I'm in any immediate danger," I say cheerfully. "I have the bodyguards, remember? Besides, I want to find Emily."
Rose rolls her eyes and nudges her shoulder with mine. "Go be matchmaker, Mother Hen. I want these Moroi to waste their money on me."
I shake my head and smile at Rose's antics then turn away to look around the cramped but homey bar. It is smoke-filled with small tables and chairs set up all around the room. There is a juke box sitting against the wall playing old country music and vintage signed movie posters lining the wall. To my left are booths in a corner across the room and a small stage directly in front of me. Behind me is the bar with a pretty young blonde bartender sporting too much makeup.
I love it.
I spot Emily sitting in a small table in the center of the room. I see her eyes roam over the room nervously, taking in every detail. I walk over and relief sags her shoulders as soon as she sees me.
"I'm so glad you're here!" She stands up to hug me. She looks gorgeous. Her hair is a mess of waves around her face, her eyes are a glowing ocean reef of blue and green. I can't look away.
"You look amazing," I blurt out.
She blushes, only adding to her beauty. "Thanks. What made you choose this place? It's kind of… out there." Skepticism now replaces shyness.
I laugh. "I didn't, actually. I'm meeting someone."
Emily raises her eyebrows. "Oh? Who?"
I shrug. I'm not sure if I should tell Emily about meeting Christian. I'm still not certain how tonight will end.
I'm a building standing on one leg ready to tumble.
"Enough about me. Did you call Donovan?"
"Yes, but…" Emily bit her lip. "He said he was busy tonight."
"What!?" I almost explode out of my seat. How is this possible? This isn't how these things work. Emily is supposed to have her happy ending. Not be the girl left behind at the bar. I'm confused, my hands feel like they're clutching at something slipping further and further from their reach.
Emily is nodding and still talking. "…arently he got hired on tonight to do some extra work for the shoot. Real hush-hush, he said. Couldn't talk about it, he said. Bullshit, is what I say. No one has ever been hired to do "hush-hush" extra work for a photo shoot. Please," Emily's voice breaks. She downs her drink, visibly upset.
I don't blame her. If Donovan tried pulling that excuse on me, I would be sitting here drinking too.
We sit here in each other's company for awhile before Emily decides she wants to leave. I tell her she doesn't have to but she insists.
"I'm so sorry about Donovan," I whisper to her through our hug. "I didn't expect that."
"I did," she shrugs. "Well, not really. But in a way. We've never been sane together, but we've never worked with anyone else. I hoped reaching out would work. I guess not."
Emily is moving towards the door and I'm thinking about my relationship with Christian. About chances, about insanity, about different pieces of puzzles fitting together, hands linking, and whether we fit into that category.
I'm still not sure.
I watch her walk towards the door then I am suddenly watching Donovan running past me, shouting her name and I am in shock.
What is he doing here?
I want to shout at him for hurting her, for putting her through such anxiety.
Emily slowly turns around and is frozen. I can see she is just as astounded as I am, perhaps more so. I see him explaining, his arms, hands, everywhere, his words flying in every direction, pleading and Emily glances at me a few times uncertainly(why?). I feel elated as she stops him, slowly smiles, and he wraps her in his arms. I feel like clapping for everything that they are; everything that they represent, that I wish I could be, they are an immobile force that I wish I can be a part of that I can hold in my pocket to take out to remember at certain parts of my life.
If only I were so lucky.
—-
I am sitting by the bar. It is now 10:27 p.m. and I am a puddle of nerves, a dissection of thoughts, no longer a person but a living breathing jumble of feelings.
I have only snapped at Rose who has tried to comfort me.
I can do this
I can't I can't I can't
I will be fine
I won't I won't I won't
He won't hurt me again
He will He will He will
Three minutes until Christian Ozera changes my life again. And I am willingly letting him. I am giving up my heart on a platter, my everything, again, to this boy.
Because he showed me a little vulnerability.
Because he is still that boy I loved so long ago.
Because he is still that boy who loved me back.
10:28 p.m.
Two more minutes.
I look down to my hands that are red and beaten from me wringing wringing wringing. Christian used to give me such a hard time for fidgeting. I can't dredge up a smile now at the memory. I can't feel anything but the dread, anxiety, excitement, pour through my ligaments and seeping into the air. Everyone is avoiding the girl with the wide green eyes and anxious hands. I have bitten my lip to the point of blood.
Don't hurt me
He will hurt me
I trust him
He is untrustworthy
10:30 p.m.
—-
My
heart
has
stopped
—-
Christian is announced onstage and he brings a different guitar than the one he had with him during the shoot. I recognize it immediately. It's the guitar he had when we were back home. This guitar is different and filled with memories; it's scratched and worn and played but it has a characteristic that can only be labeled as Christian's in my eyes. It has his feel, his sound, his tune. This guitar is Christian and no one else. It's the guitar he played on to me all the time. The guitar he taught me on. My fingers have touched those strings, touched with his fingers covering mine…
I'm breathing hard and fast. The air is hot, the smoke too thick. I wonder briefly if I will survive this.
Christian sits on the stool in the middle of the small stage. There is no microphone; the bar and clientele is small enough to go without. The lights are set low, setting his pale face in shadows and angles while his eyes pierce through all of it to find me, barely alive, seated by the bar.
He clears is throat and starts talking in a low voice, a voice tinged with roughness and emotion.
"I wrote this for you, Lis, a few years ago. I'm sorry, so damn sorry. I should never have let you leave without me. I was a fucking idiot. Every damn thing I wrote for you is true."
He stops, looks down to his guitar, strums, then starts pouring out a deep and simple tune that seeps into me immediately. It's melodic and has a strange, horrible, sadness underlying the superficial happiness; I'm drowning drowning drowning.
"I can't imagine all the people that you know
and the places that you go
When the lights are turned down low
and I don't understand all the things you've seen
but I'm slipping in between
You and your big dreams
It's always you
In my big dreams
And you tell me that its over
wake up lying in a patch of four leaf clovers
and your restless
and I'm naked
you gotta get out
You can't stand to see me shakin'
No
Could you let me go?
I didn't think so
And you
I don't wanna be here in the future
so you say the present's just a pleasant interruption to the past
And you don't wanna look much closer
Cause you're afraid to find out all this hope
you had sent into the sky by now had
crashed
and it did
because of me"
Christian changes the tune, a sad, slow, deep song that leaves me breathless.
It's him. I see now.
My throat is emotion and fire and sadness and a hollow, terrifying hope.
The first part is me
This part is everything Christian.
"I'm here without you baby
but you're still on my lonely mind
I think about you baby
and I dream about you all the time
I'm here without you baby
but you're still with me in my dreams
And tonight,
there's only you and me
Everything I know,
and anywhere I go
it gets hard
but it won't take away my love
And when the last one falls,
when it's all said and done
it gets hard
but it won't take away my love"
He finishes and I'm lost to him. I see only Christian. I only remember Christian as he was. As he is. He is naked to me; bare stripped scattered to pieces on the stage in front of a few strangers but I don't notice them.
We are alone to each other. The space between us is too far, but I am frozen and can't move. He's exposed everything to me.
To the girl who believed in him once; to the girl he once threw away.
I am a stupid, foolish girl for believing a scared boy's lies.
I should have fought for him harder.
My cheeks are stained with tears, my eyes draining the four years of heart break and lies and incomplete truths and misunderstandings.
I feel the invisible knives being pulled out of my heart, my soul slowly becoming whole once again.
Rose comes into my vision. She's standing in front of me, shaking my shoulders.
I barely notice her.
"What are you still doing here, Lissa? If a guy sang that to me, you can bet your ass I would not still be sitting on this bar stool."
I have no words. My tongue is a dessert, my throat is a dried well, my mind an upended bucket.
"I…" I look into Rose's intelligent dark eyes. She has sympathy written on every beautiful, exotic curve of her face. She crushes me to her chest. She smells like friendship and alcohol.
"Go to him, Lissa. Don't think, just go."
I nod silently and push frantically away from Rose, striding determinedly through the labyrinth of tiny tables and chairs. I feel Christian's eyes on me the whole time and
I
am
his.
I belong to him.
I don't deny this simple truth anymore.
Just as he surely belongs to me I belong to him.
I have no concepts, schemes, proposals, as I stop in front of Christian.
His eyes are wary as they take me in. All of me. I am staring at him; he at me. We're not saying anything as our eyes talk to our bodies and I'm dying to say what I'm feeling.
I shake my head instead.
"You never…" I clear my throat of a tiny avalanche. "You never stopped? You lied before, didn't you? Four years ago?"
His eyes are instantly fearful but he hides it quickly. I start at the amount of fear he hides; of losing me?
I cannot fathom his feelings anymore.
I'm scared to know their depth
I have to know their depth
Christian looks away, pinches his nose, then drops his arm. He glances back towards me. Holds my gaze. Showing everything; hiding nothing. My heart is punched straight through. I have nothing left inside besides what he is showing me and what we are giving each other.
"Yes," his voice is a hoarse whisper. "I wrote you that song two weeks after you left. I left a month and a half later after you. I couldn't…" He pauses. "I couldn't live there without you, Lis. I couldn't live with the reminder, everyday, in every hallway, face, God even the fucking plants judged me for what I did to you. I was such a fucking coward for what I did to you."
He draws a hand down his face. His fingers are long, pale, perfect.
"I knew I wouldn't be able to forget you if I stayed in the compound so I left. The first two weeks were the worst. I wrecked everything in my apartment. I started fires around the property-"
"Christian, no." I say, stepping forward. I am horrified, but not altogether surprised at what I am hearing.
"I stopped only to write this song. I had to get all of that fucking emotion out of my system. It helped but it wasn't nearly enough. Only you would be enough, Lis," he looks at me then, his eyes an icy plea for understanding.
I understand almost too well. I am crying again now.
"I can't expect you to forgive me so easily. I don't expect anyone to. After my parents…"
I'm silent.
I think I think I think
I breathe "Christian, stand up" his face registers surprise but I'm thankful he does it without asking questions. I step towards him. We're so close but barely touching.
closer closer closer
My heart is a gallop I never wish to stop; I feel the wind in my veins, the happiness in my bones, my nerves are on fire. My mind is shrieking to be careful but I know there's no longer any need.
He's not a threat to me.
He is mine, and I am his now.
Just as it always should have been.
***DISCLAIMER: THE SONGS I USED WERE KONSTANTINE BY SOMETHING CORPORATE AND HERE WITHOUT YOU BY BOYCE AVENUE(ORIGINALLY RECORDED BY THREE DOORS DOWN) AND IN NO WAY SHAPE OR FORM WAS WRITTEN BY ME THANK YOU VERY MUCH***