Entangled (A Tryst Novel) (18 page)

I pull in another breath as he watches me carefully.

“Can I ask you something without it coming off as inappropriately convenient to bring up?”

I twist my lips into a smirk, knowing that with Gio, I never really know what might slip from his lips. I nod for him to go on.

“With this decision making you have to do, I’d like you to participate in a photo shoot I’m doing with
 
Harper’s Bazaar
magazine. Use it to help make your decision. Right now, any experience you might gain will help, and we could even add it to a portfolio, if and when you decide to take it seriously. We can even pretend we don’t know each other at the shoot to make it easier so you aren’t so swayed. If you want. It’ll be my crew, about a half a dozen girls, and me. It’s an impromptu vintage theme for the magazine since the celebrity that was supposed to appear backed out. I know it’s last-minute and all, but I’d like to have you come.”

I hum, tilting my head back and forth as I toss the idea around in my head. “I don’t know . . .”

It feels like another thing I should run past Blake, but then again, I think I want to decide this one on my own. But reluctantly I have to admit it isn’t good timing with school.

“Gio, thank you for the offer, but I can’t.”

He releases his bottom lip from his teeth and nods. He doesn’t persist or ask again, and I worry that I wish he would. “No worries, bella. How about pizza?”

Good, a topic change. I can handle this.

“Yes, please!”

He rises from the couch and makes four steps before swiveling around.

“Oh! Do me a favor and turn on the TV to channel eight! This gossipy show, which I normally would detest, is announcing my gallery opening in LA I want to be sure they have everything correct. You’re going, right?”

I stand, looking for the remote on his coffee table, and notice a flat screen TV on the wall among his contemporary art. I swear, I always notice something new when I’m here.

“Sure, I’ll find the segment!” Gio is still standing there, tapping his booted foot impatiently. I laugh as I throw my hands up. “Duh, Gio. Me and Blake are going to be there.”

“Perfetto!”

He walks out of the room with a satisfied grin. I shake my head, finally feeling at ease as I turn the TV on.

I flip to the channel he requested and see that the show has begun. I stick out my tongue as I watch the show. It’s reminiscent of
 
TMZ 
and
 
Entertainment Tonight
. The host talks of celebrity pregnancies and devastating divorces. I take note of some names I know, and wonder if any of this is relevant to me now.

I shrug, and I’m about to go find Gio, but I hear, “
Blake Everett and Kathryn Caraway . . .”

My eyes fling themselves to the television. My heartbeat begins a painful acceleration as my blood churns thickly through my veins while my eyes glue themselves to the screen.

I’ve become numb to the TV host’s words as the flashing images of the live coverage of an
 
Entertainment Weekly
 
party appear.

“
Blake Everett and Kathryn Caraway appear arm in arm, giggling like two kids at their junior prom. Are they excited about their upcoming movie release, or are sparks flying on and off set?
”

I zone out again, blinking furiously as I watch Blake walk down the red carpet with Kathryn pressed tightly against him. He stumbles, they laugh, and then he leans in to her ear,
 
too close
, his lips practically brushing against her skin as he mumbles something. She smiles widely, and I can’t ignore the blush to her cheeks.

My heart leaps into my throat while my nerves bubble to the surface of my skin, and I worry that I might break out in anxious hives as I scratch at my arms. I had told myself many times before that I wouldn’t let things like this bother me, but watching it in motion is a hard pill to swallow.

“
Bella
, did you want pepperoni—”

Gio’s words cut off as he follows the trail of my eyes to the screen.

The camera zooms out to show Josh and Vanessa loitering in the background. They’re laughing like idiots, too. My brother looks dashing, and Vanessa fits the scene like a natural in her forest-green ensemble. I’m not sure I’d be able to pull that off even if I tried.

The camera angle is an outsider’s view, so as the host’s voice sounds over the images I watch Blake and Kathryn approach a microphone to answer interview questions, still tightly sealed to each other.

His yellow tie brings out his bright green eyes, matched only by his Hollywood-ready smile. He looks natural. He looks happy.

I don’t know what the interviewer says, but I watch as Kathryn presses her ruby-red lips to Blake’s chiseled cheek while keeping a palm pressed to his chest encased by a perfectly tailored suit.
 
My Blake.

And I lose it.

My brain tries reassuring me that it’s nothing, and I believe it, but my squirming insides have me frantic.

I don’t care if Gio is watching me, I run to his bathroom and slam the door shut behind me. My nerves are wound tight, and the hives that I thought I had imagined feel as if they’re forming in my throat, constricting my breathing into short gasps. I lean over the sink and splash cold water on my face as I regain control. Finally, I pull in one long, leveling breath of oxygen.

I reach into my pocket for my phone and dial Blake’s number. I know he won’t answer. Obviously, I know what he’s doing at this exact moment with that show running nearly live to real time, but I can hope. My heart beats three times between each lulling ring.

On the fifth ring it goes to voice mail.

I hang up, slipping my phone back into my pocket, and close my eyes. I try to remember Blake’s smile when he sees me in the morning, and how his lips caress every inch of my body in nothing but admiration. I try desperately to cling to the deep timbre of his voice as I recall the moments when he tells me he loves me.

He loves me
.

I try to shake myself free of my state, realizing that what I witnessed is simply part of what I signed up for. This doesn’t affect
 
us
.

I know this.

I know this.

I can’t slow my heart rate, but at least the itching seems to subside.

I take in a deep breath and dry my face on a hand towel.

I reassure myself that this is not the end.
 
Of course it isn’t. 
This is merely a hurdle that I need to wrap my head around. Although, it doesn’t mean the anger that burns in my gut, swiftly replacing the fear, isn’t going to be heard, because I have a lot I need to say.
 
We
 
obviously have to talk.

I don’t question our relationship, but this situation rattles me from the inside out. I want to trust Blake, but like any girl, I wouldn’t trust Kathryn as far as I could throw her. I know that look in her eyes, and I know that type of giggle as if I invented it.

It’s the kiss to Blake’s cheek that has me so riled up, but the glazed look to his eyes felt unfamiliar. My biggest worry is that his evident happiness is something I can’t recognize anymore.

I can’t lose my grip that quick.

Why wouldn’t he tell me about this? Is that why he wanted me to go to NYC?

I don’t know anymore.

I feel like I don’t know a lot.

I pat my face dry a final time, realizing at least one thing among my nerves of the entire day: If Blake can do what he wants, then I can do what I want. He doesn’t need my permission to be a movie star, just as much as I don’t need his permission when it comes to my future.

If anything, this moment has taught me that, and that’s exactly how I would explain it to Blake.

Though, it does not change the fact that I wished he had told me about this before it happened.

I couldn’t entirely admit what was going through my head out loud to Gio, even if I did confess I like having his camera on me, but I do want to do more modeling. There’s a sense of freedom to it that school doesn’t give me. A freedom I never knew I was missing. A new frontier I never considered, and I hate that when I’m near Gio, he gives me a gust of fresh air similar to the one that Blake gives me when he’s around.

I walk out of the bathroom, and Gio is leaning against the armrest of his couch, coolly waiting for me.

He goes wide-eyed. “I’m sure it’s nothing,
bell
—”

I love that he’s ready to comfort me on a whim, and I’m tempted to laugh, but I can’t muster the energy for that. I have only one thing on my mind.

“I know, Gio.”
 
Because I do
. “When is that photo shoot you asked me about?”

Gio’s look softens, and I see this strange sense of understanding flit over his brooding features. “What day would work best for you?” he asks.

“Is a Monday too hard to work out?”

“I’ll find a Monday that works.”

I nod.

“Is this what you want?”

I nod again. “This is exactly what I want.”

It’s the truth.

Blake

When I try opening my eyes, even lifting my eyelids spikes out pain like shards of glass into my brain with the energy it takes to do it.

“Errgh,” I groan, trying to focus. I lift my head, feeling heavy in every way possible, but the moment my eyes fall onto a fast-asleep Kathryn, her blond hair undone, cascading over the pillow next to me, I bolt upright, sending my brain bouncing around in my skull.

I grab for my head as I climb out of bed, trying to stand. I clench my eyes shut as I pull in a deep breath. When I open them Kathryn is still lying in bed.

This isn’t happening.

I could puke. I could puke everywhere, actually. I could easily projectile vomit on every surface of this hotel room . . . and the only reason I don’t is because we’re clothed. I mean, fully clothed in our outfits from the night before.

I exhale a large gust of relief as I dissect Kathryn hugging a pillow close, still in her yellow dress, her legs tangled around the silk.

Okay. Clothes are good.

I peer down at myself. I’m missing shoes, and that god-awful tie, but I’m clothed, too. The fact is a godsend.

My muscles feel tight from falling asleep in such a constricting getup. The vest feels like it’s suffocating me even now as I try to pull oxygen into my lungs, hoping it’ll reduce my throbbing headache.

I claw at my chest, scrambling for a moment of calm, but it doesn’t come. I don’t think I’ve felt terror like this before. I feel out of control as I stumble around looking for my shoes. I try to remember last night.

Tequila.

My stomach gurgles at the thought. I remember shots in my hotel room, and then bringing the bottle with us into the limo. I remember laughing. Lots of laughing.

I blink a few times, trying to gain more momentum with these memories.

I remember stumbles. I remember smiles. And I remember drinking more. The open bar of the party was too tempting. I remember pulling my tie from my body, handing it off to Kathryn. I remember the disapproving angle of Vanessa’s eyebrows as she watched Josh and me grab drinks off passing trays, but I also remember her catching up soon enough.

Then it goes black.

My breath comes out in short, shallow heaves as I plunge my hands into my pockets to find my phone, and I find nothing. Panic sets in, good and hard.

“Blake?”

I wipe at a bead of sweat forming on my brow before letting my crazed stare collide with a groggy Kathryn.

“What the fuck happened?” flies harshly out of my mouth. The room spins with the force of my words.

She rubs her eyes, smearing the black eyeliner. “Huh, what?” she asks before letting out a croak as her hands come up to her head, clutching it in pain. “I need a greasy breakfast, stat—”

“Kat, shut up. What happened?”

She squints, and looks at me through one peeking eye. “Chill. We didn’t screw around. We just got wasted, and you couldn’t make it to your room. Plus . . .”

“Plus what?”

She raises her hands defensively at my tone. “You kept shouting your girlfriend’s name down the halls of the hotel. It was annoying.” The disdain in her voice is as thick as the saliva pooling in my mouth, and feels just as disgusting. “You kept pulling out your phone to call her, so I took it.”

My heart thumps loudly, which does nothing for my headache.

“Give it to me.”

Her face twists offensively as she dissects my tone. “You’re mad?”

“Furious. Where’s my phone? I’m not playing around.”

She sits up straight, trying to regain some sense of composure, but her perfectly plucked brows pucker in annoyance. “Why the hell are you mad?”

“Did you try to make a move on me? Why are we in your room?”

I’ve never been so direct with her, but there’s something conniving about the whole scene. I feel it in the base of my spine where the tension is coiled tight.

“This is what I get for helping out a friend? You get wasted off your ass, I take care of you, and this is the thanks I get?”

I close my eyes, trying to grab ahold of a foggy memory that I sense is linked to her thick floral perfume. Then it hits me. I remember the reflection of Kathryn’s face kissing up my neck to my mouth in the elevator walls. I could puke all over again. My eyes fly open.

“I don’t remember much, but I remember you trying to make a move, clearly,” I reply crisply.

Her face turns as yellow and pale as the dress she’s still wearing. “I . . . I  . . .”

My gut contorts, writhing with anger, frustration, and something else I can’t put my finger on.

“Kathryn,” I grumble, moving my hands to my eyes, digging my fingers into their sockets until I see stars. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Surprising even me, the words come out breathy and calm, and with a dash of pity.

When I finally turn to look at her I can see the beginning of tears welling in her eyes. I can’t deal with this.

“I’m sorry,” she exclaims with a whimper. “I shouldn’t have. I was being stupid. It didn’t matter though, you kept saying Skyler’s name over and over again in my ear, like a mantra, and I think at one point you thought I was her. I was so embarrassed at that point I tried getting you back to your room, but you could barely walk. I couldn’t carry you. I didn’t know what to do. I tried calling Josh with your phone, but he didn’t pick up. So, I dragged you here.” She drops her face to her hands in shame.

I release a breath, and it feels like steam as it passes between my lips. I swear to God, I think I hear her sniffle. I seriously don’t want to deal with this.

I grind my teeth.

Why do I feel bad? I shouldn’t. I know her breakup has been driving out her insecurities, and I’m sure me shouting out another girl’s name didn’t help, but she was taking advantage of the situation. She was trying to take advantage of
me
. I’m torn between running and consoling her. Both feel fucking annoying, either way.

“Dammit,” I huff.

She lifts her face. “I really am sorry. I’m a mess. Just an absolute mess. I was so, so stupid. You don’t have to forgive me, but just know I’m sorry. I shouldn’t go around screwing up other people’s happiness just because I’m jealous. God, that feels so embarrassing to admit out loud. Shit. I’m sorry I—”

“Kat, stop. It’s fine.” It’s not fine, but I don’t take it back, and instead swallow down the bile that wants to rise up my throat while I’m forcing more words. “Nothing happened, anyway. We can brush this under the rug.” I try not saying this through gritted teeth. I unclench my jaw. “I know things have been hard on you, and I wish I could be the friend you need, but the truth is, I have a lot that I need to handle, too. How can I manage your stuff
 
and
 
mine? Do you understand? We’re friends, but I can barely manage the few I have, let alone deal with this transition, okay? I care about you, and as much as what you did isn’t cool, I don’t—” I exhale sharply. “I don’t want this messing everything up. We have two more weeks of filming. It’s been short and sweet, but we’re a big deal right?” I emphasize the words
 
big deal
,
 
knowing that’s her favorite term for us since we met.

She lifts sad, round eyes to mine. “You don’t have to be so nice to me right now.”

“I know I don’t, but . . . it’s not worth it otherwise. I just need my phone, and I need to call my girlfriend. We’re good.”

“We’re good?” she repeats back, the corner of her mouth twitching with hope.

I nod. “As good as we’re going to get right now. Sure, I was angry before, but let’s just let it go. Nothing happened. We made some stupid decisions, but in the end we’re fine. Okay?”

She takes in a calming breath of her own. “Skyler’s really lucky.”

My lips press into a hard, reassuring line that resembles a smile as I nod. I still cannot stop my bass drum of a heart from reverberating in my skull.

She stands from the bed, wobbling a bit as she does, and goes to her purse, pulling out my phone. She hands it back to me. “I’m glad I kept you from texting or calling her, though. You were pretty far gone.”

I know she’s right in this regard. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Is it weird to ask for a hug?”

I sigh, and offer her a sad smile to match her own. I don’t want to give her a hug. I just don’t, and I worry that it makes me an asshole, but I don’t think I care enough.

“I’m just heartbroken, Blake. People like me do desperate, foolish things when they’re struggling to stay afloat.”

Her words strike a chord, but my involuntary shake of my head says it all. I won’t. She looks on the verge of tears, but I honestly can’t make myself care anymore. I think I’ve given as much kindness to the situation as I can muster, and I’ve never been that nice a guy anyway.

The only thing on my mind now is how something like this could have me potentially losing Skyler, and I won’t let anyone get in the way of that. I won’t fuck this up.

Trying for a happy medium, I lightly place my hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently before pulling away. “We’ve all been there, Kat.”

She nods, and I try to ignore her sniffle before she says, “Your shoes are near the door.”

“Thanks.”

Her eyes droop to hint at remorse and sadness, but I have no want to stick around longer. I need space. I want to leave. I have a phone call to make.

I try to act as if I’m not running away, but my long strides are quick and determined. I slip my shoes on less than calmly before sprinting out her hotel room door.

If it were possible, my chest gets tighter the moment I hit the open hallway. Never in my life have I feared being in public, but now I do. Especially with the fact that Josh could be anywhere. I need to get to my room as soon as possible. He wouldn’t believe me if I tried to explain why I was creeping out of Kathryn’s door, so it’s better to avoid the entire encounter if I can.

I peer down at my phone as I jog to the nearest elevator, powering it back on.

Ding.

I step into the elevator, eyes glued to the phone. The elevator rises, and my guts plummet with the gravitational pull . . . or with guilt and remnants of alcohol.

I shouldn’t have drunk all that alcohol. I should’ve made an appearance and come back to my room.

My phone is on, but the elevator blocks out cell service. I’m sweating and nauseous. I might have dodged a bullet with my morning, but I can’t seem to stop the panic.

Everything feels wrong.

I just need to hear Skyler’s voice. That’s it. She’s so much smarter than me. She’ll have a way to relax me. I chew the inside of my cheek so hard I worry it might bleed, knowing I can’t confess where I ended up even if nothing happened. Skyler wouldn’t understand. She wouldn’t want to. She’d drop me. I wouldn’t be worth the turmoil.

Ding
.

The elevator doors spring open, and I jog back to my room, thankful that my wallet, which includes my room key, is still in my back pocket.

I step inside, closing the door behind me, and release my first real breath.

My shoulders drop; even my spine feels like it realigns in the presence of real privacy.

I unbutton my vest, then my shirt, peeling them from my body. It feels damp with feelings I don’t want to feel.

I clench my eyes shut as I toss the garments across the room.

I just want to feel like I have a solid grip, and the only time I ever do is when I’m home. I need Skyler near me. This transition is as hard for me as it is for her. I know she struggles, but I wish she could sense how out of control I feel.

My phone begins a series of
 
doo-doops
 
as it regains service.

I look down seeing that I have two missed calls and three missed text messages.

I gulp down my stress, forcing myself to investigate.

My brows furrow as my eyes scan through my phone calls. Only one missed call from Skyler. The rest are Josh.

I know the fact that I only have one missed call from her should make the whole morning feel less menacing, but I only feel more guilt.

It’s already eleven in the morning—the sunshine nearly in the middle of the sky is proof. Which means it’s eight her time.

It could be too early, but I don’t care.

I dial her number.

She answers on the second ring.

“Babe . . .” I release breathlessly before she can speak.

“Yeah?” she replies brusquely, and I don’t know how to handle her tone. Acid burns deep in my gut.

She couldn’t know, could she . . . ?

“Babe?” I question, rubbing at my temples as I sit myself on the edge of my bed, grasping at straws of sanity. “I love you,” It doesn’t make sense to say, but it’s the only thing on my mind.

She sighs into the phone. “So, you know I’m mad, then?”

The bass drum in my chest reaches a pounding decibel level in my head.

She continues, “I saw you and Kathryn on TV—”

I’m on the verge of sputtering an apology. I’m about to tell her that whatever she saw isn’t what she thinks and that I didn’t fuck Kathryn. “I—”

“Why don’t you ever tell me when you do social things on TV and when you have to take Kathryn as your date? I saw your segment about that party you went to. I wouldn’t have found it so shocking if I were warned. I knew we’d hit these walls, but I just wish I felt more prepared.”

Is she pissed off? Yes. But is she pissed off about what I assumed? I don’t think so.

“You’re mad?” I ask, running a hand through my damp, oily hair.

“Of course I’m mad, Blake! I don’t like those kinds of surprises! I was at Gio’s, and he had to watch me freak out. It was embarrassing. He tried telling me what I saw meant nothing, and I know none of it did, but she kissed you on the cheek. I saw it. I know it’s for the cameras, and you two are supposed to be friends, and even if it
 
was
 
friendly, it makes me feel god-awful.”

A new fear swells in my gut. “Gio?”

“Don’t change the subject!”

Her tone bites and nips at my pulsing headache. I wince. If what I was feeling could be described in one word, I would choose
hurricane
.