I come up out of the darkness slowly, clumsily. I feel the sheets on my skin, and my body wakes up before I can open my eyes.
It’s almost like waking up after a bender, except my head doesn’t hurt and I know exactly where I am. When my eyes blink open, they focus on the light in the room, just a dull splash across the walls from the lights outside. I can see almost as well as if the lights are on, so long as my eyes stay adjusted to the night.
I sit up very slowly and carefully, watching Jane.
She’s sleeping on her front, arms curled in close to her. Her beautiful big eyes are closed tight, the long lashes leaving shadows on her cheeks. Her sweet, full lips press against each other in a dream, and her fingers curl as her mind wrestles through some far off, dreamscape problem.
She’s so beautiful. I never thought I’d meet a woman that I could keep looking at and not get bored. Sometimes at a party or club, I’d think about how they started to look the same to me. But Jane has a quality about her, something that charges the air with electricity.
Her body is gorgeous, her face is an ancient figure printed on a gold coin. She makes me want to devour her with my eyes—and lips and tongue—every chance I get.
The feeling I get when I’m looking at her is something else. I’ve never felt connected in this way, actually emotionally invested. Whenever we are apart, I miss her.
This thing got so off course. I didn’t mean for it to go this far. I was just being my usual asshole self. Coming up with mischief. My main motivation was to poke Jane a bit, get her to react to me. That certainly worked.
When it exploded, I was happy to go along with it. My fans got worked up pretty fast and I couldn’t have expected it to be positive. I didn’t really think about my fans when it all started, even though they are the key to maintaining my rep.
That day in court, I was just thinking of convincing that one judge. Buying some time. I didn’t expect my fans to get ahold of this story and run with it. Once that happened, I knew I was stuck in the role. It’s been a fun ride, and so far, I’ve enjoyed every minute of it.
But right now, looking at Jane, I’m full of doubt.
I’m confused.
I didn’t want to be with my old girlfriend. That’s not the problem here. I know she thought she was special, but in actual fact, she was just someone I fucked a bit more than the others. A face I remembered a little bit more. I discarded her just as fast, though, you would think she could save her dignity and keep her head down.
My eyes move slowly over Jane, those swelling curves sliding under the crisp sheets. She stirs just a little as I watch, her brows furrowing. I want to wake her up and see those eyes focus on me, that eager smile she tries to hide that lights up her face.
The ring looks so good on her finger. She’s taken a few photos for the press now where she grips her chin, holding her hand up so the diamond glints against her dark skin. I love the look she gives the camera, a satisfied, sly look as if she has secrets all over her that no one can see. She doesn’t just play the role, she seems to be living it.
The way she looks into my eyes, the big, easy smile. She leans into me with ease, stroking me as she huddles under my arm. It makes me smile, too and when I see my own face in the photos, I think how we are both glowing with the same joy.
Could she really want to be with me? I don’t think she’s that good of an actress. Maybe I just don’t want her to be. I’m starting to fall into a web of my own thoughts, and I don’t like not knowing where the spider is.
I’m actually worried that she doesn’t like me. That she might be playing me.
That makes me furious.
What are her motives? Is this all about work and money? I find it tremendously insulting that she could look into my eyes the way she does and not feel anything. The way we just fucked, the intensity when our bodies come together, surely, no one could fake that!
But here I am, up in the middle of the night, freaking out. Working myself up into a state. Shit, I’m like one of those losers I’m always making fun of.
I feel vulnerable.
And I hate it.
I can feel myself getting into a towering rage. I get up and pace by the window, trying not to look at Jane. I know if I do, I won’t be able to think clearly. Maybe that’s impossible, anyway, but when I look at her, all rational thought goes out the window.
So, I keep my eyes focused firmly outside, thinking dark thoughts.
This might not have been a good idea in any way, shape, or form. I don’t like feeling this way, and I want everything to go back to the way it was before. Nice and simple, girls to fuck, cocktails to drink, parties to be had.
I didn’t think about this at all. I mean, I don’t think about things a whole lot. So, this is no surprise. This is the first time I really feel I’ve gotten in over my head. How the hell did I think I could clean up a mess by making an even bigger one?
Mixed up in all of this, where my urge to flee begins to overpower everything else, there is a feeling I wasn’t expecting.
Fear.
That if I flee, get out of this whole tangle, I’ll hurt Jane. I’ll never see her again. She’ll be pissed at me. Unless, of
