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Breaking Stars
  • Текст добавлен: 4 октября 2016, 00:23

Текст книги "Breaking Stars"


Автор книги: J. Sterling



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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

Reliving Old Memories

Tatum

I couldn’t wait to get home from the shop and see Paige, but I didn’t want to appear overanxious or smothering, so I played it cool. Well, as cool as a guy could be called when he raced through the screen door and practically sprinted into the house.

“Tatum, honey. Slow down,” Mama warned. “Where’s the fire?”

I glanced at Paige, but she turned away. The fire was in my pants, my hands, my chest. It was everywhere, but I wasn’t about to tell my mother that.

“No fire, just starving.” I stared at Paige, whose gaze had returned to mine as I licked my lips. She blushed and mouthed, Stop it.

“Well then, get over here and help me set out the food,” she asked, and I obliged.

Dinner was pure torture. Having to keep my distance from Paige when all I wanted to do was reach out and touch her…well, it damn near killed me. She sat across from me, her hair up in a sexy ponytail, and the width of the dinner table put her too far away from me.

I willed the wood to disappear into thin air so nothing separated us. This girl had me feeling so many things that I’d pushed aside for too long, I didn’t even mind it.

As soon as I’d swallowed my last bite of food, I tossed down my napkin and said, “I’m gonna take Paige over to my place to watch a movie. That okay?” Paige’s mouth fell open slightly, but Mama couldn’t wipe the smile off her face.

“I don’t know what you’re asking me for. Paige is a grown woman,” Mama said gruffly, still trying not to smile.

I turned to Paige. “That okay with you?”

“Sure. You sure you don’t mind?” she turned to ask Mama.

“Of course not, dear. Why in heaven would I mind?”

“I feel like we’re ditching you,” Paige said with a frown, and I wanted to grab her and kiss her for being so damned sweet.

“Don’t be silly. You two go have fun. Don’t worry about me.” Mama waved us off before heading down the hall before we could say another word to her.

I leaned close to Paige and whispered, “I’ve thought about kissing you all day.” She bit her bottom lip and smiled, then I pulled her out of there as quick as I could.

The second we stepped onto the porch, I pressed my lips against hers. She tried to pull away and gestured toward the house, but the porch light was off and it was dark. I knew Mama couldn’t see us at all, not that that would have stopped me anyway. This girl had bewitched me, and I didn’t care who saw me kissing her. Even Mama.

“So, what do you want to watch?” Paige asked as she looked at the DVDs stacked on my shelf.

“I was kidding. We’re not watching anything.”

“Why not?” She turned around with a huff and crossed her arms over her chest.

“If you want to keep up the charade, then pick something out for us to not watch. I’m going to kiss you, Paige. I’m not going to watch a damn movie with you.”

“So we’re just going to spend the rest of the evening kissing each other? That’s your big plan for the night?” Her eyebrows pinched together, and I instantly wanted to fix whatever I’d said wrong.

“I hadn’t thought past the kissing.”

“Well, I have,” she said, and I couldn’t fight back the smile that spread across my face.

“Let me hear it.”

She grinned like a Cheshire cat before launching into my arms. “Just kidding. I can’t think about anything but kissing you either.” Her lips pressed against mine before they parted and her tongue slid inside.

I licked her bottom lip, pulling it into my mouth as I sucked on it gently. Kissing her was like free-falling off a cliff that had no end. I floated in a world filled with nibbling and licking and sensations I’d fought off even thinking about for the last few years.

My insides felt like they were on fire, suddenly awake after being numb. You’d think that my heart would be rusty, that it might need a few beats to get used to the idea of wanting someone after being closed for business for so long. But no, not my heart. It started beating to its own rhythm the second we saw her, instructing my body to feel, want, and need—three things I hadn’t experienced in years. This girl sitting right here called to me. I was a ship about to crash into oblivion on the rocky shore, and she was a beacon of fire, determined to save me with her light. And oh, what a beautiful light it was.

After making out for a while, I pushed her away. She laughed while I focused on my breathing. This girl tested all my resolve. I grabbed us each a beer, and we sat across from each other on the couch in my living room.

“So you’ll stay on your side of the couch, and I’ll stay on mine? Is that how this works?” she said playfully, pushing her toes against my feet.

“Yep. You keep your perfect little lips over there away from mine. You’re like a temptress.”

“A temptress, huh? Well, that’s a heck of a lot better than a princess.”

A laugh escaped from my throat. “You like being called Princess. Admit it.”

She shook her head vigorously. “I don’t. I really don’t.”

“Why not?”

“’Cause it sucks!” she insisted. “It insinuates all sort of stupid things that I don’t like or relate to. I know I’m an actress, and I get way too many things for nothing, but I’m not that kind of person. I wasn’t raised that way. I work really hard.”

“But that’s just it, Princess. You think being an actress is hard work,” I said, then instantly wished I could take back the words.

She sat up straighter and cocked her head. “I know to someone like you it probably sounds stupid. I’m not up at the crack of dawn plowing fields or baling hay or growing corn. But I do work hard. Please don’t pretend like you know what it’s like to be me.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Feeling like a complete ass and desperate to recover, I asked, “Why don’t you tell me?”

“I work really long hours. I have obligations to more people than I can count. I can’t leave my house without someone following me or taking my picture. I know that’s not hard work, per se, but it’s hard emotionally,” she said emphatically. “When I’m filming, we usually film all day long, from first thing in the morning until nine or so at night. And if we have a night scene to shoot, I’m there until whenever that finishes, which sometimes isn’t until two or three in the morning. There’s a lot of sitting around and waiting, but it’s not like I can go to sleep or go home. I have to sit there until they’re ready for me. And not mess up my hair or ruin my makeup in the meantime.” She stopped suddenly and growled, “Damn it.”

“What?” I asked, and had to stop myself from pointing out to her that she just swore for the first time in front of me.

“I’m trying to tell you that I work hard, but everything I’m saying is just stupid. None of it sounds hard. I have to memorize lines and get into character and be really good at what I do. But I know that my job is a luxury. I know how lucky I am.”

“You do more than just act, though. I mean, you’re all over the place.”

“I am. I have meetings constantly. I’m reading scripts all the time, deciding if I like certain parts or not. I also have to do a ton of publicity for all of my movies, as well as personal publicity. I like the image that I have, and I work hard to make sure it stays that way.”

She took a sip of her beer before continuing. “I have to be really particular about what events I attend. I need to know who is putting on the event, what it’s about, who else is going to be there, where it’s at, and that kind of thing. I also have to pick and choose where I hang out and who I hang out with. All kinds of things that most normal people never even have to consider because they don’t wake up with their antics from the night before plastered all over the Internet and the supermarket tabloids.”

She sighed. “I’m not complaining because I knew it was part of the deal. It’s just more work. And it never ends. I never get to walk away and say, leave the office at five p.m. and turn my work off when I get home, you know? My work and my reputation and the things that I do are a 24/7 job. It never stops. I never shut off.”

“That would be hard,” I said slowly, realizing that only certain people could handle that sort of life.

“Don’t make fun of me,” she snapped.

“Shit, Paige.” I reached across the couch for her knee and squeezed. “I wasn’t. I wasn’t at all. I think it sounds like a lot of unnecessary shit to deal with. And I have no idea how you’re still such a good and kind person.”

That got a smile out of her, a big one, and I wanted to pat myself on the back. “Thank you, Tatum. I try really hard to stay grounded. Being raised normal made all the difference, I think.”

“Raised normal?”

“I just mean I wasn’t raised in the business. Sure, I’ve been doing it since I was fourteen, but that also means that I had fourteen years of complete and utter normalcy, unlike my best friend, Quinn, who was raised in the business. She has no idea why I miss the things I miss, or want the things I want, because she never had that in her life and it doesn’t appeal to her.”

“But she’s your best friend, so she can’t be all that bad,” I said, knowing exactly who she referred to. Quinn Johnson was hot as hell. Nowhere near as hot as Paige, though. Quinn was blond, and I had a thing for brunettes. At least I did now.

“Quinn’s amazing, but she’s had hard times. She just went through them all before we found each other. If I had known her when she doing the stuff she was doing, we wouldn’t have been friends.”

“You don’t think so?”

“No way. I don’t stay away from drugs and all that sort of stuff to be a good role model. It’s just not my scene. I’m not into it. I don’t like it, and I don’t want to be a part of it. So I stay away from the people whose lives are ruled by it.”

“Your parents must be really proud of you.”

“They are. I think.” She scrunched up her nose. “They don’t really treat me any differently. And they don’t play favorites between me and my sister.”

“Wait,” I said. “You have a sister?”

“Yeah.”

“Younger or older?”

“Younger. She’s graduating from high school in a few weeks.”

“I had no idea.”

“And here I thought you knew everything about me,” she said with a wink.

“The only thing I really know about you is that your lips are my kryptonite.”

“So you want to stay away from them?”

I inched closer to her. “I never said I was Superman.”

I crawled across the couch and hovered above her body. Reaching for her beer, I placed it on the floor and leaned my face toward hers. Closing my eyes, I crushed my lips against hers and tucked my arm under her waist, lifting her body up against mine. She wiggled her hips and rubbed herself against the hardness in my pants. I stopped myself from moaning.

Our tongues were melding together as I nibbled and bit at her. The way her hips raised into me, I couldn’t stop myself from grinding against her. I worked myself into a frenzy with all the gentle grazing, teeth biting, wet tongues kissing, and hips rubbing.

Pulling my mouth away from hers, my hips continued to grind into her warmth. Her mouth fell open, and I forced myself not to grab her again. I pushed up from her, smiling at the effect I had on her.

“Oh good Lord, Tatum. You can’t just do that to me!”

“But I did.” I smirked before moving back over to my side of the couch. I wasn’t sure why this thought popped into my head, and she might get mad as hell at me for asking it, but now that she was sitting here like this, I suddenly found myself wanting to know. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” she said as she ran a finger across her bottom lip.

“Since you mentioned your reputation and all that, remember those tabloid reports about you and that director?”

Her sweet expression immediately dropped and turned sad. “Remember? How could I ever forget.”

“Was it true?”

“Tatum!” she yelled. “I was seven-freaking-teen. And he was forty-five!”

I shrugged. “I’m sure that kind of thing happens in Hollywood all the time.”

Her eyes narrowed. “First of all, ew. Second of all, it might happen sometimes, but it didn’t happen with me.”

“Not an ounce of truth to it at all?” I was pushing her and I knew it.

“I was naive then, far more naive than I am now. But no. Nothing happened between us. And I probably would have freaked out and cried in a corner if it did.”

“So people can just say whatever they want in the news and tabloids? It doesn’t have to even be remotely accurate?”

She nodded. “Pretty much. As long as they say they got their information from a source,” she drew quotes in the air, “they can write whatever they want.”

“That’s wrong. And screwed up. I don’t like it.” I found myself getting defensive of her innocence again. Imagining Paige at only seventeen years old, dealing with that kind of thing, made my blood run hot.

“It was horrible. Those reports. Those lies. They broke up a marriage. And for what? It wasn’t even true. It wasn’t even close to true.” Her lip started to tremble, and I knew I’d lose it if she cried.

Please don’t cry.

“The guy’s wife didn’t believe him?”

“No. And I even talked to her. Here I was, little teenage Paige going up to this grown woman, trying to tell her nothing happened and that I would never do something like that. You know what she said to me?”

“What?”

Paige sniffed. “She said, ‘That’s what I used to say too. We all do things to get ahead in this business, Paige. He might have been your first, but I’m sure he won’t be your last. Enjoy your career.’”

“What a bitch,” I snarled.

She chuckled. “I should have needed therapy after that fiasco.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you.”

Her face finally softened, and the Paige I was growing to adore was back. “It was a long time ago. But thanks.”

“Random question,” I said as more thoughts filled my mind. She tilted her head, giving me the silent okay to continue. “Did you ever think about suing them? Can you sue the tabloids?”

“That’s one of the worst parts. You can sue a tabloid or a news outlet, but all the obligation is on you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, like we just talked about, they can pretty much say and write whatever they want to sell papers, advertising, however it is they make their money. They can do whatever they want. But if I wanted to defend myself in court, I would have to prove that their words caused me to lose money. Like if they defamed my character, I would have to prove that their defamation cost me. Either I stopped getting job offers, or I lost roles I was up for. Things like that. But I would have to prove that all those things happened because of the articles and claims made by them. Gosh, am I making any sense at all?”

“You’re making sense, but the situation doesn’t make any sense.”

“I know. They can print complete and utter lies, defame my character, and I can’t really do anything about it. I have a publicist and she puts out the fires if necessary, but that whole affair thing. God, I wanted to sue. I wanted them to stop. But I didn’t lose work because of it. Only sleep, tears, pride, self-worth. Nothing that stands up in a court of law.”

“It shouldn’t be like that. They shouldn’t be allowed to do that kind of stuff.”

“But it makes them so much money, why would they ever stop?”

Frowning, I admitted, “I’m starting to get angry, Paige.”

“Don’t. It’s not worth it. I’ve been doing this long enough that I’ve got it under control, for the most part. They don’t say many bad things about me. I’m lucky in that regard.”

“Lucky? You don’t do anything for them to talk about. You don’t do anything wrong.”

“I know. And that’s exactly why. There hadn’t been anything dramatic written until—”

“Until Douchepants cheated on you.” I finished her thought for her, and she lowered her head.

“Yeah. That was mortifying. Is”—she looked at me—“is mortifying.”

I leaned toward her, placing my hand on her knee. “He’s an idiot.”

“True,” she said with a smile.

“Do you miss him?” It was another loaded question, but this detail was more recent. Forget my simply wanting to know…I needed to know.

“Missing him is the easy part. I don’t. At all. We were both so busy and rarely in the same place at the same time, that there isn’t really a lot to miss. I’m more angry at myself, to be honest. I feel like I was a complete idiot and I should have known better.”

I nodded. “That’s how I feel about Brina. Like I should have known she was just using me the whole time.”

“How could you have known something like that?”

“How could you?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted with a little shrug. “I just feel like I should have.”

“Me too.”

We stayed silent for a minute, maybe more, letting the similarities of our experiences sink in. At least, that was what I was doing. I’d never expected us to have much of anything in common, but I was learning how wrong I was.

“Will you tell me what happened with your dad?”

I sucked in a breath. Was I ready to head down this road? If I didn’t drive down it now with her, when would I? Talking about this would never be an easy conversation to have, but I wanted to be open with Paige. She needed to know this side of me, and understand the moment that had altered my life.

“I came home for Thanksgiving break. Mama had dinner ready, and we were waiting on my dad to come home. He was late and wasn’t answering the phone, so Mama asked me to run to the shop and go get him.”

I looked away from Paige’s eyes, staring firmly at the wall behind her before meeting them again. Reliving that day hurt like hell, but I’d do it for her. My throat felt thick and it was hard to swallow, but I continued.

“I pulled my truck up to the shop and saw all the lights on. Thinking everything was okay, I yelled for him to wrap it up and come home to eat before Mama killed him. The music was playing and Buster was whining, but my dad didn’t respond. I walked through the office and into the garage when I saw him lying there. The truck he had been working on had fallen off the jack and was lying right on top of his body. All I could see were his legs and a pool of blood.”

I lowered my head and started shaking it back and forth. “I didn’t know what to do, so I tried to lift the truck. Like with my bare hands. I tried to tried to get it off of his body, but it wouldn’t budge. I screamed for him, shouted his name, but he didn’t move. I fell to my knees at the front of the car to see if I could pull him out somehow, but that was when I saw that his chest was crushed and a piece of metal had pierced through his stomach. That’s where all the blood came from. I knew he was gone, but I refused to believe it and I didn’t want my mama to see him like that, so I ran to Doc Tracy’s house. I don’t even remember running there, but apparently I did. I don’t remember most of what happened after, but my God, Paige. I wish every day it didn’t happen. I wish every day that I’d gone to check on him sooner.”

Paige reached out and intertwined her fingers with mine. Squeezing them, she brought my knuckles to her lips and placed a kiss against them before bringing my hand to her lap and holding on tight.

“Doc Tracy said there wasn’t anything that I could have done. That he most likely died instantly, but those words never seem to make a difference. You can hear them a hundred times, but your brain refuses to believe it. What if I’d shown up ten minutes earlier? What if Buster had run home to get me, like the damn dogs do in movies? What if, what if, what if…” My voice drifted off as the pain came crushing back.

Paige squeezed my hand. “I’m so sorry, Tatum. I’m so sorry that you lost your dad like that, and that you were the one to find him.”

“I’m glad it was me and not Mama. I don’t think she could have ever recovered from seeing him like that. The funeral was bad enough.”

“So after he died, you never went back to school?” She adjusted herself on the couch and sat up straighter against the back.

I sighed. “I went back. But only to quit the football team, drop my classes, and get my stuff.” She nodded as if my words resonated deep within her. “What are you thinking?” I asked.

“That I would have done the same thing,” she admitted with a shrug.

“Really?” I couldn’t believe it.

She continued to nod. “I think so. I mean, on one hand, school would have been a great distraction, but I couldn’t imagine leaving my family after a tragedy like that. I’d want to be home. I’d feel like everything else could wait.”

“That’s exactly how I felt. I didn’t want to play football anymore. I didn’t care. And who was going to run my dad’s shop and support our family? My mom? She’s not a mechanic. And no one in town was interested in buying it. The shop has been in our family for generations. It seemed like the right thing to do.”

“I completely understand.”

“Brina didn’t.”

“I heard a little about that from Celeste,” she said, and I instantly bristled.

“Yeah. I realized later that Brina was just using me as her get-out-of-town ticket. And when that fell through, she wanted nothing more to do with me.” I blew out a loud breath. “I thought she really cared about me. I don’t understand how someone can fake something like that for so long.”

“I’m sure she wasn’t faking all of it. She can’t be that cruel,” Paige said, giving Brina the benefit of the doubt, even though she didn’t deserve it.

“Who gives a shit? No more talking, Paige,” I said, the weight of our discussion bearing down on me. I was exhausted emotionally, but I needed her more than ever.

“More kissing?” she asked through puckered lips.

“Lots more kissing. Stay here with me tonight.”

“I thought you weren’t ready for that?” She pulled her head back in surprise, and I wondered what exactly she was thinking.

“I just want to hold you in my arms all night, if that’s all right with you.”

“It’s more than all right,” she breathed out before standing and reaching out her hand for mine. She led me into the bedroom, kicked off her shoes and looked at me. “What do you normally sleep in?”

“Nothing,” I said with a big smile.

“I figured. But what will you be sleeping in tonight?” She walked over to my dresser and opened up the top drawer before closing it. Opening up the drawer beneath it, she smiled and pulled out a pair of my workout shorts. I assumed they were for me to sleep in, but she unbuttoned her jean shorts and dropped them to the floor. My eyes fixed on her bare thighs, her hips, and the tiny piece of red cotton covering her skin. She pulled my shorts on over her underwear and I blinked.

Her hands gripped the bottom of her tank top and pulled it over her head as she walked toward my closet and flicked through my hanging shirts. Long brown hair hung down her back, and I realized spending the night just sleeping was going to be more difficult than I had imagined.

“Where are all your T-shirts?” she turned and asked, her breasts practically busting out of the top of her bra.

“Dresser,” I mumbled, watching every move she made. When she pulled out a Texas University shirt and slipped it on, I hardened even more. Seeing her dressed from head to toe in my clothing was a ridiculous turn-on.

“Your turn,” she said softly as she reached for the bottom of my shirt. It was such a bold move, but it felt right in her hands. I lifted my arms above my head as she pulled it off and tossed it to the floor near her discarded clothes.

This was a side of Paige I didn’t even know existed. This Paige was confident and bold and seemed completely unafraid, while I stood there half-terrified, feeling like my soul had been stripped bare and laid out in front of her. I hoped she’d be gentle with it.

Once she reached for the button on my jeans, I stopped her and did it myself. I trusted Paige but I was emotionally spent, and having her unbutton my jeans crossed the line from where my sanity and self-control lived. I wanted Paige in my arms. I needed to feel the closeness between us after what I’d just shared with her, but I wasn’t ready to push the boundary. Yet.

“I know this probably seems crazy to have you here like this and not…” I paused as I pulled the covers back on my bed. “Well, you know.”

“It’s not messed up. Do you have any idea how many times a girl would just like to be held, or have an amazing talk like we just did and have it not end up in the bedroom? I’m happy to spend the night with you. I’m even happier that it has nothing to do with sex. You have no idea how much of a relief that is for a girl.” She climbed in bed beside me, my shirt hanging well past her hips. “Especially for someone in my position.”

My emotions still raw, I pulled her against me, still thinking about my dad and feeling vulnerable. She rested her head against my chest and I kissed the top of it. “Thank you. For understanding.”

“Thank you. For not being typical.”

“Yeah, I’m definitely not normal. Pretty sure I’m broken, or damaged, or maybe just clinically insane.”

She looked up at me. “Pretty sure you’re amazing. And I’m lucky to have found you.”

“Pretty sure you’re just as messed up as I am,” I teased, before finding her lips and kissing her until I could barely stay awake.


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