Surrender to Me (13 page)

The look on his face instantly turns to regret. “Fuck,” he mutters
while reaching out to touch me.

But I can’t have him touching me when I'm so close to breaking down,
so I shrug away from him.

“Just leave me alone,” I sniff.

“Ava, I'm...”

“Just go away,” I say, my voice catching in my throat.

He looks at me one last time with a pained expression and nods.

He then turns his back and leaves.

*****

I am soaking in this regal bathtub, which could easily fit three
people side by side, but sadly, I cannot enjoy it. I just wish this feeling in
the pit of my stomach would go away. Why do I not think before I speak?

I can’t believe I was so stupid today. What was I thinking flaunting
Harper in Jasper’s face the way I did? Oh yes, that’s right, I wasn’t, and
that’s the problem! I was so stupid allowing my jealously to get the better of
me, as it was wrong of Jasper to find out about Harper the way he did. I don't
blame him for saying what he did because I know he doesn't care for me anymore.
It’s just actually hearing him admit it; it was so hard to process without
falling into a depressive heap.

Oh God, I really need to stop obsessing over this.

Lost in thought, I fail to hear the bathroom door open.

“Well, look at you. You could drown in there,” says Harper looking
at me, crossing his arms over his broad chest, smiling.

I sink deeper into the bubbles as I feel awkward with him just
gawking at me. I mean I am naked under all these bubbles.

“You’re in early,” I say looking over at the wall clock, the water
sloshing over the sides onto the immaculate white floor.

Harper loosens his tie and slides it down his collar, wrapping it in
one hand. He then begins to unfasten his shirt buttons.

What is he doing?

“I cancelled my meetings because I realized I have been totally
neglecting my beautiful,” he untucks his shirt from his pants, “awfully hot,”
and he loses the shirt, “fiancée.”

I gulp.

I wasn’t expecting him to be here for at least another two hours.
O-kay, ungrateful much? I should be over the moon my fiancée cancelled all his
meetings to be with me. 

I watch him unclasp his belt, and that too joins his shirt on the
floor. Oh my, is he doing what I think he is doing.

He is standing before me, only wearing his grey tailored slacks,
looking mighty fine, and I feel sick.

I want him nowhere near me, and I wish I wasn’t stuck inside this
water prison, because I would be halfway downstairs by now.

Harper strolls over to the edge of the bathtub and sits down. He
skims his fingers along the top of the water, and when he brushes over my bent
knee, I shy away.

This feels so wrong.

“What’s the matter?” he asks lightly, searching my face.

Letting out a breath which I was unaware I was holding, I reply,
“Nothing. I was just getting out. The water is starting to get cold.”

That is the lamest lie, as Harper knows the temperature is close to
scolding as his hand is under the water, seeking out whatever flesh he can
touch. He finds my tummy and glides his fingers around my bellybutton.

He is watching my reaction to him touching me, and as his hand
slides further south, I shift away from his probing fingers. I don’t want him
touching me, especially after today. All I can think of is Jasper’s hurt face
because of my stupid actions.

Harper’s hands on me feel so wrong, and I hate that I feel this way.
I feel like I am betraying Jasper. But Harper is oblivious to my discomfort as
he continues touching me.

I hold my breath and close my eyes, wishing I was anywhere but here.

“You’re so soft,” Harper whispers.

I listen to the water splashing, like he has removed his hand from
the bathtub, and I let out a deep breath. But when I open my eyes, I really
wish I had kept them closed, because Harper is unbuttoning his pants.

Just as he is about to start on his zipper, his phone rings. He lets
out an annoyed huff, while I let out a relieved one.

He reaches into his back pocket and snaps, “What?”

Watching him curiously, as I have never heard him greet one of his
clients so abruptly, I wonder who is on the other end. After a lot of grunts
and sighs, he hangs up.

“Sorry babe, I gotta take care of some business. I will make it up
to you.”

He leans forward, kissing my forehead. “I won’t be late.”

The butterflies in my tummy have settled down, and I feel horrible
that I am secretly happy he has to go out.

“It’s okay,” I smile. “I understand, take your time.”

He beams down at me. “How did I get so lucky?”

And he gives me one last kiss on the forehead, before collecting his
shirt and belt off the floor, and shutting the door behind him.

Harper is out the front door in two minutes, and I let out the
biggest sigh of relief.

What is the matter with me? I am so mad at myself for behaving this
way.

Damn L.A! And damn the feelings she evokes in me!

I slide deeper into the bath, submerging my head and hoping when I
resurface, things will be a lot clearer.

Chapter 13

Friends Again

I
decide to hang
out at the hotel until I am due at V’s for dinner tonight. She has ensured me
that Lucas is cooking, as she is a fire hazard in the kitchen.

It will be nice to catch up with them as it has been a frantic few
days, and we haven’t had much of a chance to socialize.

Searching through my closet, I decide on a pair of overpriced jeans,
complemented with a vest and my black ballet flats. I curl my hair and apply a
light bronzer, mascara and pink lip gloss, and I'm ready to go.

Grabbing my bag and jacket, I head downstairs to be escorted to V’s
by Roberto. I really wish Harper would let up with the driver already.

Roberto is not one for small talk, which suits me just fine, and I
stare out the window the whole car ride. When he pulls up to V’s, I inform him
I don't need a lift back because V said she will drive me home. Thankfully he
doesn't argue like he usually does, as I think he is fed up engaging in a
discussion he knows is pointless talking about.

Walking up the stairs I ring the doorbell, and V greets me at the
door with a glass of red, which she hands to me quickly.

“Drink that. You look like you need it.”

I down it in one gulp, handing her the empty goblet.

“Hmm, smells good,” I say, instantly smelling garlic mixed in with a
rich tomato sauce as I enter the lounge room.

V nods happily. “Lucas is cooking something special.”

“Spaghetti  Bolognese?” I ask.

She stares at me, and I chuckle at her stunned expression.

“How'd you know?”

“It’s my job to know these things.”

She laughs as we stroll into the kitchen arm in arm, and I take a
seat at the kitchen table.

“Hi Lucas.”

I smile as V puts a new glass of red in front of me.

He turns around, wiping his hands on his Kiss the Cook apron.

“Hi Ava, thanks for coming,” he says, his scruffy hair falling into
his eyes.

“Thanks for having me. It smells good,” I reply, sipping my sweet
red wine.

“I'm just going to set the table,” V says, heading into the dining
room.

“I’ll help,” I offer, standing up.

“No you will not. Sit. You’re a guest,” and she walks off rather
quickly, and a little guilty looking.

Sitting back down, I watch Lucas fill up a pot of water to cook the
spaghetti.

I can tell by the way he is hunching up his huge shoulders that he
wants to ask me something.

“Spit it out,” I sigh.

He turns to look at me. “I hate to sound like a broken record, but
what's going on with you and J?”

I know he is referring to a similar conversation we had months ago
when he asked me the exact same thing.

“Nothing Lucas. We're over,” I reply, ignoring the lump in my
throat.

Lucas shakes his head. “No you're not. You're just both too stubborn
to admit you still have feelings for one another.”

“It doesn't matter anymore,” I whisper sadly, thinking about
Jasper’s comment, and how much it stung.

“Ava, love, it matters. Happiness matters.”

“I wish it was that simple, but Jasper has made his feelings
perfectly clear.” I shake my head, biting my lip.

Lucas sighs. “It's none of my business, but I just hate to see you
two so unhappy.”

V screams for Lucas to come help her with something, which
thankfully ends this awkward conversation.

“Can you watch this for me?” he asks while undoing his apron, and
tugging it over my head. “I don't want you to get dirty.”

“Thanks.” I smirk at him as he sets off to join V in the dining
room.

Adding the spaghetti to the boiling water, I think about what Lucas
said and wonder if Jasper is really unhappy. He seemed completely happy
flirting his way through his morning coffee.

The pasta is done, so I pull it off the stove to drain it. Thinking
about Jasper and Trudy has put me in a foul mood, and suddenly my appetite is
shot.

“That ass,” I mumble under my breath.

“Who's an ass?” I hear from behind me.

Speak of the devil.

*****

“Crap!” I yelp.

Totally surprised that Jasper was standing behind me, I clumsily
spilt boiling water onto my arm which burns like a motherfucker.

Quickly running it under cold water, biting back my tears, Jasper is
at my side in an instant.

“Are you okay?” he asks, pushing my arm further under the water
spray.

I nod. “I’m fine.”

After getting over the initial shock of being burnt, now my arm is
burning for another reason as Jasper’s fingers are caressing my singed skin. I
need to stop feeling this way about him, because it’s not right, and it’s not
fair to Harper.

“It's fine,” I mumble, looking at him standing so closely to me, examining
the burn.

He slowly raises his blue eyes to mine as he feels me staring at
him.

He quickly lets go of my arm. “You should put some burn cream onto
it. It'll scar otherwise.”

“I thought you stopped caring a long time ago.” It's out before I
can stop myself.

I bite my lip and lower my eyes. “Sorry, I didn't mean that.”

Jasper sighs. “It’s okay, I deserved it. I'm the one who should be
apologizing.”

“What for?” I ask, totally taken aback by his confession.

“For being a jerk to you.”

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to. How was your coffee
date?” I ask, still jealous which is totally unreasonable.

Jasper looks embarrassed, while pulling in his lips. “It never
happened.”

“Oh.” I reply calmly, but inside I am anything but calm.

Turning off the water, I dry my arm with a dishtowel, hissing a
pained breath through my teeth, as the material is tough against my burnt
skin. 

Jasper presses up to me to see what happened. “Ava, you need to put
something on that. When V and Lucas come home, we can ask what they have.”

I look at him confused. “Huh?”

He returns my puzzled look, scrunching up his nose.

“What do you mean when V and Lucas come home? They are in the dining
room.”

Jasper looks at me like I've lost my mind. “No they aren't.”

“Yes they are,” I reply quickly.

“Are you sure you're okay?” Jasper asks, looking at me with concern.
“Did you want to sit down? I can get you a glass of water?”

I throw down the towel annoyed, as I don’t want to be wrapped in
cottonwool, because his kindness just confuses me further. As I storm into the
empty dining room, V and Lucas are most definitely not here, and judging by the
romantic, candlelit table set for two, they won't be returning any time soon.

“That sneaky little sneak,” I mumble, shaking my head.

So much for wanting to catch up!

Suddenly, my palms begin to get clammy as I am alone with Jasper,
and I am so not prepared.

I hear plates clanging which snaps me out of my panic attack, and
turn to see Jasper sitting down, digging into his plate of spaghetti
bolognaise. I peer over at the other bowl, my bowl, and gulp. Can I really sit
down and have a civilized meal with my ex-boyfriend?

Well, we will soon find out.

I sit across from him and wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans.

Jasper being Jasper is thoroughly enjoying his meal, twirling his
spaghetti and loving every mouthful. I am fixated on his mouth, and I can’t
help myself as I am struggling for breath when he licks his lips, savoring the
taste.

“This is good,” he says in between mouthfuls. “You haven’t lost your
touch.”

Picking up my fork I take a small bite. He is right, it is good.

“I didn’t cook it, Lucas did,” I reply while reaching for my wine.

Jasper chokes on his dinner, thumping his chest to dislodge the
pasta.

“What?” he asks after he has taken a sip of beer.

“Lucas cooked it,” I reply, smiling at his surprised face.

“Wow. My best friend is gay.”

I snort loudly, covering my mouth. “Just because he can cook doesn’t
make him gay. Gee, stereotyping much?”

Jasper smirks, his dimples making a welcomed appearance. “I’m
kiddin’. Why aren’t they here?”

Lowering my eyes, I am afraid to tell him that my best friend is up
to no good-again.

“Veronica?” is all he says.

I nod in agreement. “Veronica.”

Jasper sighs, and we’re quiet for a few minutes. Sitting in such a
small, confined space, I can feel the invisible sparks of electricity pass
between us like a live current.

The silence is killing me, and by the way Jasper is rubbing the back
of his neck, he must feel it too.

Finally he breaks it. “I meant what I said Ava, I am sorry for what
happened.”

“Me too,” I reply quietly. “I am really sorry you found out... about
Harper like that.”

Jasper cringes when he hears Harper’s name. “It’s fine, don’t worry
about it. I kinda knew already. I heard V bitching to Lucas about it. I just...
you know, it was weird hearing you talking to him like that.”

I berate myself for behaving the way I did, but I can’t change the
past. “I know, and I’m sorry.”

Jasper takes a sip of beer, looking at me over the top of his
bottle. “If you’re happy, then so am I.”

Does he really mean that? Or is this some psychological mindfuck? I
really can’t keep up with angry Jasper one minute, and happy Jasper the next.

“I want you to be happy Ava, that’s all I’ve ever wanted. If you’re
happy with him, then so be it. We will always be friends.”

What the hell is going on here? He is happy that I’m with Harper?
And he wants to be friends? Oh God, his note was true. He has moved on, and
forgotten everything we experienced together. If the tables were turned, I most
definitely would not be expressing my happiness over him hooking up with
someone other than me. All this time, all the kind gestures and flirty
innuendoes were me just reading into things, and wishing for it to be true.

I rub my temples as I have a steady migraine approaching.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, fine, I’m good,” I lie, throwing him a faux smile, and
stuffing my face to stop myself from saying something he obviously doesn’t want
to hear.