“Used you?” My tone is defensive. “I thought you were down to role-play.”
“I was. But you made me feel like a piece of meat. Jumping on top of me. Using me to pleasure yourself. Then leaving me high and dry. A ride and slide on my cock. A pump and dump in my mouth.”
“I’m sorry.” I reach for Christopher’s hand. “I thought you liked it.”
“It left me feeling cheap. Like I’m some kind of escort ratherthan your…” Christopher pulls his hand back and stops himself before he finishes. He grabs a strawberry from the platter instead.
I scratch at my neck as guilt crawls over my skin.
“Sorry. I know we agreed to take things slow this time round. I just got carried away. The joys of being an addict I suppose.” I shrug and Christopher grabs another strawberry.
I grab the bottle of water and take a swig, waiting for Christopher to say something.
He doesn’t. He just stares at me, so I continue.
“I’m trying to do things differently this time around. Not run from my problems, or drink them away or use sex, but like I said Sunday night, I just need you to meet me halfway. To understand that I’m trying. I don’t mean to fuck things up, but inevitably I’m going to every now and then.”
I twiddle with the bottle cap as Christopher’s face softens, the sides of his lips lifting upward slightly.
“I appreciate that you’re trying, and I understand this isn’t easy for you. But I need you to understand that it isn’t easy for me either. If we’re going to make things work this time around, I need you to communicate more openly with me. To make this less complicated than it could be.” He waves his finger between the two of us.
That’s all I want.
For us to be open and easy and uncomplicated.
I take a deep breath and look deep into his hazel eyes.
“You were right Sunday, we should slow things down. Everything was a whirlwind in London. It all happened so quickly and then I lost you, and I just want to pick up where we left off. But I appreciate there are still bridges that need to be built, and others that need to be repaired.”
The warmth in his eyes, his smile, reassures me this is the right path.
Maybe there is hope for us still.
Maybe we can make everything right this time round.
The steward walks toward us and reaches for the platter.
“I’m just going to need to take this away before takeoff.”
Christopher picks up the two stems from the strawberries and plops them on the platter as I down the last of the water and hand the bottle to the air steward.
“Oh, and we’re also expecting some turbulence for the first hour of the flight, so if I can ask you to keep your seatbelts securely fastened, that would be greatly appreciated.”
That kind of turbulence I can deal with.
Just as long as there’s a break from the turbulence in my personal life.
18.Christopher
Wednesday
Idon’t know whether it’s the time zone, my lack of sleep, or a combination of both, but every cell in my body is resisting the effects of this Silent Night, Shaky Morning iced blended coffee drink that Chloe insisted I try to help wake me up.
My eyelids are so heavy that I’m considering grabbing the black tape off the camera stand in the studio and using it to stick them to my eyebrows. Even my lungs can’t seem to get enough air from the yawns I try to stifle. Everyone else seems to look fresh-faced, including Alexander.
He’s clean-shaven again, revealing the scar on his jaw and the dimple in his cheek, glowing under the TV studio lights. The scratch on his right cheek, a result of an overzealous fan clawing at him when we arrived in Times Square, is barely visible on the monitor.
God, I need an Erica in my life.
