A/N: I've been delaying this chapter, I know, bad Meaghan, but it's a rough one and I wanted to let you all revel in my fluff for a little. Please don't hate me after this chapter. If everything goes according to plan, this wouldn't be a story, now would it?
Read and Reveiw, even if you hated it. I promise next chapter will be better!
PS: I disclaim; everyone who you recognize is SM's.
"I will breathe in the moment, as long as I keep my distance. I wouldn't want to go messing anything up. " -The Spill Canvas, All Hail The Heartbreaker
KPOV
I had one of those things to go to. I hate those things. Those stupid things. The dinners, the banquets, the balls, the soirées. The parties where I was expected to act proper and mingle in a tight evening gown and four inch heels as the daughter of Hank Morgan of Morgan LLP. The only good thing that came out of going to those things was that I got to see my cousin Lily.
Jared watched me as I brushed on some makeup and pulled my hair out of the curlers they were previously occupying, petting Max absently who was asleep in his lap. He closed his eyes as I stepped out of my bathrobe and slipped on the dark purple satin dress. It was probably the color this week. We had a clothing coordinator, Natalie, who sent me a dress that was in my general size range to be tailored every month along with a pair of shoes and a bag. The dress would match my cousin Lily's and Aunt Sarah's in material and color and Uncle Mark and my Dad's ties. I only saved the dresses I really liked and gave the rest to the Salvation Army.
Jared opened his eyes as the zipper came up. "Beautiful," he stated simply but it made me blush nonetheless. I had never blushed before Jared had come along and it had become very embarrassing. I walked over to him and he fitted his arms around me. I pulled my light pink polished nails over his scalp and he breathed in deeply. I loved that I had that effect on him, the ability to make him feel just as good as he made me feel just by one simple action.
"The limo's going to be here soon," I whispered.
"I wish I was going with you..."
"I know. I'm just not ready for that. I know you understand that." We've been 'together' for a month already and he still hasn't told his mother that we were. I could understand why. We were both fairly independent people and for me to have to introduce him to my father and uncle at one of their dinners dedicated to some rich employee was not something I felt like facilitating right now. School just let out and I was determined to have a stress free summer.
"Mhm. I just... It's not safe there. It's not safe for you anywhere that I'm not."
"I've been to hundreds of these things. You don't need to worry about me." I loved when he did though. It felt good to know that someone was worrying about you. He kissed me soundly, nipping at my bottom lip lightly. He was intoxicating, like an overwhelming poisonous gas that once you breathed it in, there was no getting away from it. I couldn't stay wrapped in him forever tonight, as much as I wanted to.
The car outside beeped once and I groaned lightly. Jared kissed me one more time and I hurried down the stairs, grabbing my purse and jacket on the way out. I scrambled into the car swiftly and said my hello to Rodrigo, my chauffeur for the past three years.
"You look beautiful, Seniorita."
"Gracias, Rodrigo. You look handsome as always." He smiled and told me to knock if I needed anything as he closed the window between the driver and passenger side. I poured myself a drink and tried not to wince, the raspberry flavoring doing nothing to stop the burning in my throat. I don't normally drink but I had a four hour car ride in a tight dress that had to be worn until at least elven tonight and would much rather be in a pair of old sweats sitting on my comfy couch watching some stupid movie with Jared - sue me if I wanted a little liquid comfort.
I began to reflect over how much things had changed already in the past month since I had really met Jared. We spent every minute together. I had never realized how attention starved I was. I should've been unnerved with the proximity that we had grown to, the closeness that our relationship so far has been based on, but I wasn't. Not one bit. It was relaxing to cook dinner for him, to wash his clothes, to help him study for his finals. The interaction was warming. Personally, I was a fan of the kissing. I could kiss Jared all day everyday and never tire of it. I loved learning about him. I loved knowing every thought that passed through his head and he in turn loved listening to me. It was as easy as breathing to be around him, to talk and interact with him. It had never been that easy with anyone, not even Mina (who was galavanting around Mexico for the next month).
I was dragged out of my thoughts as we pulled up to some over the top venue and I got out, not excited for the onslaught of camera's and reporters that were sure to be gracing the sitars and pathway to my destination. Rodrigo opened my door and I kissed his cheek before sliding him a tip and walking swiftly toward the large marble stairs that were littered with people. Vince was at my side immediately.
"How are you, Miss Kim?" he asked as he shoved numerous people out of the way.
"I'm good, Vince, how are you? How're your little ones?" Vince was my body guard of over ten years and I had basically grown up with him. He had brought his kids with him once and I had discovered them in a coat room, instantly recognizing their faces from the many photos that he had shown me. Their babysitter had cancelled and he couldn't afford to not be here, him being a single parent. They were both adorable and I offered to keep an eye on them for Vince, the best body guard in the world. I fell in love with them, Jordan and Alexa, and asked about them frequently, even coming to visit them a few times.
"They're good and they told me to tell you that they miss you."
"Tell them I'll come for ice cream soon," I said as I kissed Vince's cheek, sliding him a tip as well. He sighed but took it anyway, knowing I wouldn't let him give it back. I walked swiftly into the main room and spotted my father by the doors with a cocktail in hand, chatting up some important client. I didn't see Lily or her family anywhere so I reluctantly walked over to my father, the doorman taking my coat and purse before I could get away. I smiled at some people I didn't know that obviously knew me and they began whispering behind their hands almost immediately. I rolled my eyes and picked up the pace, sliding up next to my dad.
"Kim-bean! I was just wondering where you were. You remember Mr. McDouglas?" My father asked as he held out his arm.
"Of course, Sir, how are you?" I smiled my best 'I hate you' smile, the one that they always thought meant 'I love you', and latched onto my fathers arm.
"I'm well, Miss Morgan, how are you this fine evening. Your father sure knows how to throw a party." No, my father's people know how to throw parties that attract the right type of guests.
"He always has! Could I get you another drink, Sir?" I asked noticing his nearly empty Mohito.
"No, thank you, dear. We don't want the Mrs. to worry now, do we?" I ignored the fact that he would be plastered within the next half-hour if he wasn't already and that the Mrs. was probably screwing the hot doorman in the coat closet.
"Of course not. If you'll excuse me, I just spotted my cousin headed for the ladies room."
"Yes, dear. It was a pleasure to meet you again Miss Morgan," Mr. McDouglas said as he kissed my hand with his chapped, alcohol coated lips. I fought a grimace and smiled despite the urge to vomit. I hadn't spotted Lily at all but I had only needed to let my father know I was here. I was free to do whatever I wanted to now. I walked up the right wing staircase and headed for the end of the hall and onto the balcony. There were was no one out there and no media coverage either, the east wing always got the attention.
Lily was seated at a small table near the railing in an empire waist dark purple dress in a soft satin; almost the same as mine. She had her head resting on her hand, both admiring and frowning at the view of the city.
"Hey, Lil." I sat next to her and she sat back and smiled.
"Hey Kim. Nice dress, copy cat."
"I definitely got mine first," I said grinning. We fought like cats and dogs but she was like a sister to me.
"Yeah, whatever. Did you see Lorena? She came out of the ladies room thirty seconds before Marco did. I swear they're even stupider than they look. Everyone saw them," she said in her best gossiping voice. I pretended to look intrigued and even leaned forward to whisper, "Really? She was with Sebastian last I checked."
"Yes, well, that was last month. She's with Marco now. You know, Marco. Because they all have different personalities and different qualities. Mhm: snobby, stupid, more snobby, and more stupid." We kept up a straight face for another couple of seconds before cracking up. It was funny, really; the way that they all galavanted around with their different assortment of boys that were all the same with varying hair colors.
We laughed and joked for a while longer, just acting like cousins on the balcony of the west wing. I decided not to tell her about Jared; I wouldn't be able to explain it right. I wouldn't be able to tell her everything about it, all of the dynamics, so it wouldn't be worth it. So we sat for hours just talking, discussing horses and both the life that we shared and the one that we lived away from each other. Eventually it got late and we sent Vince (who had joined the conversation at least an hour ago) for food and drinks, him being the best bodyguard in the world and all.
I had just finished all of my Red Pepper Halibut and was on my way to go throw out all of our plates when I spotted my dad's purple vest and tie out of the corner of my eye. It wouldn't have surprised me to see him in the corridor at all... that would be if he didn't have his tongue half-way down some lady's throat and his hand up her shirt. I tried very hard to control the outrage; he had the right to be with whoever he wanted to be with - it wasn't any of my business. I inhaled sharply and walked quickly down the staircase, desperately trying to control the hardwired tears.
I grabbed my purse and coat and paged Rodrigo, calling him to the west wing exit. He pulled up swiftly, thank God. I wasn't sure if I could handle the questioning look. He opened my door and said his usual "If you need anything, Seniorita, just knock." and I climbed into the back seat of the car, not exactly sure how to stop the steam coming out of my ears. I had no right to be mad, to be upset, to be frustrated, to be bothered. None at all. It wasn't logical for me to be. But I was fuming. Absolutely livid. I was almost hyperventilating at this point and we were barely on the 101.
The image was dirty and it was seared into my memory, burned into the forefront at this moment. The way he held her against the wall, the way his hands moved over her body, the way her leg was hitched over his hip, the way her hands tangled in his hair. Slut. No matter how many times I tried to think about something else - anything else, Jared, Nova, Fiona, Jazz, Lily, AP Chem, counting sheep, the way the cucumber had looked a little too green in my salad, Rodrigo's new suit, Vince's kids, the crappy over-used music in the dining hall that could be heard from the balcony - anything that would stop the stupid broken record of that one image. Nothing would though. I poured myself a double and tried to calm my nerves which were on fire right now.
927. That's the number of times I saw my father and the other woman before we arrived home. I tipped Rodrigo and made my way onto the porch. It was a little easier to breathe here. The air was cleaner, lighter. Not thick with memory. I took my shoes off lightly and worked my way up the stairs, trying very hard to not wake Jared who was sure to be fast asleep. I didn't want him to see this - how these things make me. I started to breathe deep again as I pictured the same image I'd seen the whole car ride, only this time against the dark wood wall in the den or the whitewash door of the studio, agianst the black marble countertop, on the mahogany wood of the desk in the office. I pictured my mother walking in on them, even though she's not even alive anymore. I felt betrayed and terrified all at once.
I was close to tears, too close for comfort and I refused to let them fall, taking in big gulps of air to try and stop the urge. Jared wasn't in the bed so I assumed he left for patrol. I stripped quickly and changed into jeans and a tee; I was too upset to sleep. Upset. When was the last time I'd been upset over something like this? A long time ago. If there was a problem, I dealt with it. I didn't understand why the same dynamic didn't apply to this issue. It wasn't even an issue! I felt like a little girl; like a hormonal, upset, immature, little girl. That was not okay.
I felt so out of my element. Everything was supposed to be tight, structured, and routine. This whole new feeling, weightlessness, the freedom, the spontaneous, was screwing me up. Big time. And I knew the cause. And I didn't want to do what I knew I would have to do.
I had to... alienate him. Take him out of the equation all together. At least until I figure out how we can coexist without me losing myself to him. And by him I mean Jared. Jared who I had been in love with since I was thirteen. Jared who I have simultaneously imagined and copied perfectly. Jared who has both helped me and destroyed me.
I had softened in my desire for him, totally and completely dissolved into someone that wasn't me. But it had felt good. Too good. And now I was coming back together, solidifying, like a saturated solution that was suddenly disturbed by an overwhelming amount of solute and has started to re-crystalized. In other words, the precarious balance has been violently ruptured by just one, tiny realization. I breathed deeply, it seems I have been doing that a lot lately.
I stripped my bed and washed everything, scrubbed the floors upstairs, and reorganized the attic. It didn't make me feel better. Since I was feeling like a child, maybe I should act like one. I tried to push the tears out but they wouldn't come now. It wasn't that type of emotion. It was so intense, so sinking, so full of despair that there was no room for tears. I sat at the kitchen table in silence and sipped a glass of iced tea. It made my stomach churn tightly. I didn't want to do this. I didn't want to stop the feeling. I wanted to crawl in it, wrap myself in it and go to sleep forever.
I thought of his lips, eyelashes, his skin. His eyes, his arms, his neck. His fingers, his hands, his wrists. I thought of how I'd miss all of that. I thought of the way human interaction had warmed me and how it had brought out a side of me that I didn't know. I was afraid, I'd never admit it, but I was terrified. Kimberly Morgan was never scared but this was not just a normal afraid. This was a crippling fear and I wasn't about to show it to anyone by addressing it. So I rationalized it by saying that I needed to work on me before I could work on us.
I needed to work on me before I could work on us.
Yeah, that's what I would say. The door closed lightly and my heart jumped into my throat. I wasn't ready for this. I wasn't ready to lose him to my own devices. A tear formed in my eye but I shook my head as he walked into the kitchen.
"Hey honey. You're up late." He smiled and kissed my forehead immediately. And then my heart started ripping down the middle just a little.
"Jared," I croaked out.
"What wrong, are you sick? You're eyes look a little glassy and you look a little pale," he said as he felt my head, realized that was stupid because of his abnormal temperature, and moved his hands to rest on my neck as he felt my glands. His overwhelming concern ripped another seem in my heart. I placed my hands on his and guided them back to his sides.
"Sit down." He looked worried. This was going to be horrible. I didn't say 'we need to talk' because those are never good words and I wanted to keep him happy for just a few more seconds, at least. "I - I don't think I can - I can't... I'm sorry Jared, but I don't think we should keep seeing each other." I finally spit out. Rip, there goes one more seem. Shock, pure and utter shock. Then Denial.
"You don't mean that. Are we moving too fast? I can slow it down - we, we can slow it down. Am I too intrusive? Am I too annoying? Am I too...Jared? Is that it, because I can change." Rip.
"No, Jared. It's not you. It's... I'm not-" God, the 'it's not you, it's me "- I can't explain it but... I'm so sorry Jared. I was leading you on; I was pretending to be someone that I am really not. Maybe that's who you imprinted on - the other me. The public me. I don't want to, I can't show you the private me. That night, the one in the studio? That wasn't even the half of it. And I can't subject you to that. I'm sorry, Jared. So incredibly sorry." I swallowed the huge lump in my throat and looked at my hands, closing them into fists and then flexing them, making sure I didn't feel numb. He sat silently, not even breathing. I held mine too.
"No. I won't let you." Why was he making this harder for me? For himself?
"You don't have a choice."
"I do. I have a say in this. Give me something to go on. Tell me why. Tell me!" He started shouting and I winced, still looking at my hands. He yanked them towards him but I refused to look up. Rip.
"Don't, Jared." It was a conviction. I said it confidently even though I felt like I didn't know what I was talking about even a little.
"Please, Kim. Don't do this to me." I don't have a choice, don't you see that?
"Goodbye, Jared." I emptied my glass in the sink, my fingers shaking as I placed the glass gingerly in the dishwasher and walked around the table to get to the stairs. He grabbed me around the waist and whispered in my ear, "Please." I knew what he wanted: an explanation, a discussion, a reason, anything. But I delicately removed his arm with my violently shaking fingers and walked up the stairs.
"I'm sorry." I whispered and I knew he could hear me. My shoulders began to shake with an empty feeling that I knew too well. I was angry that I couldn't just get over it. Get over it. It seemed like nine hours ago was a lifetime away, when I was running my hands over his soft hair, reveling in the feeling of his arms around me.
I grabbed a blanket from the closet and made my way into the art studio. I hadn't done this in nearly a month; I had a distraction. Now it was time to get back to normalcy. Normalcy as in a tightly wound spring, ready to explode at any minute over any little thing. Normalcy as in misery. Normalcy as in back to the way it was. Back to my regular nasty, hard-ass, disagreeable self.
*Dodges hateful glares*