Tarnished Love by Bianca Borell
CHLOE
It takes me by surprise at how easily I can read him—he's like an open book. As apparently I am for him too. It’s weird, but it won’t stop me. The connection pulls me too deep, awakening in me so many hopes and desires. What can go wrong between two emotionally stunted people? Maybe we’ll heal something in each other, but more likely we’ll scar each other further.
He pulls out of me, our releases pouring down my leg and I can’t look anywhere else. We say nothing as we allow the other to regroup, rebuilding the walls around our hearts. He bends and picks up a towel, wets it, and places it between my legs. He cleans me; the towel caressing my sensitive flesh, and I moan. His lips turn into a lopsided grin. He’s such a pretty, pretty boy.
“I don’t know why I clean you up when I intend to fuck you again.”
“Do you?” I banter, and his head disappears between my legs. When his tongue laps at me, my head falls back, and I support myself with my hands on his shoulders.
“Oh god.”
“Never pegged you as the religious type.” I swat his head, but his tongue is heavenly. So heavenly, I forget that tongue belongs to a prick because it offers me so much pleasure. I would cut it out and carry it with me. But it wouldn’t be the same. His fingers part me, and so much sensation courses through me, my release breaks me into pieces, pulverizing my being. My knees wobble, but his hands support me on each side of my thighs. When he stands, I go limp in his arms.
“And I just found out how to silence you.”
“One goddamn minute, Filip. Is it too much to ask?”
“I can’t help myself,” he counters, and even though he tries to hide his amusement, some seeps through those lips that are best when they are between my thighs. I tell him that and he grabs my ass.
***
“What do rich people eat?”
He glares at me.
“I order in or eat out most of the time.”
“Yes, I figured because there is no way you could have survived with an empty fridge.”
“Yes, well, Roberta is away on holiday.”
“You have a housekeeper?”
“Yes, why?” He eyes me as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.
“It’s just crass.”
“What?”
“You have a housekeeper.”
“I told you this two seconds ago.”
“Stop being a moron, you know what I mean.” But his expression turns to confusion saying he doesn’t, and I groan.
“You’re rich.”
“Not this again. It’s round what? I’ve lost count.”
“Like really, extremely, obnoxiously rich,”
“You know a guy named Damien du Sky, right?” he counters, and I have no clever remark. “Why does it bother you so much?”
“Forget it.”
“So . . . we’re not fighting?”
I burst into laughter and grab his hand.
“Come on, spoiled brat, let’s buy some groceries.”
There are few things I regret in my life, and one of those is taking Filip into a grocery store with me. I am beet red as he picks stuff up and says things like, “Wow, this yogurt only costs one-pound ninety?” People stare at me, not at him, as if I am the crazy one. Maybe I am, but I hoped his obnoxiousness knew some boundaries.
“Please, Filip.”
“Are these eggs from a farm? Do farms really exist? With chickens and all?”
“Okay, I am sorry, now stop it.”
His grin widens, and the hair on my nape stands up as he rushes past me. Before I can stop him, he’s holding a tube of lube in his hands.
“I know what this is, babe.” He winks at me as nearby people crack smiles, and my mortification skyrockets.
“Put it down,” I urge him, and he picks another one.
“Hmm, this will be a waste of money, but I got tons, and apparently I am useless at life, so you never know when they’ll come in handy.”
“You’ve made your point.” I grab his hands and push the cart.
When we reach the register, his entire demeanor turns serious, and he asks the cashier, “How do you like working here?”
“I love it.”
“Would you change something?”
“No, we have a monthly meeting where every staff member can say if they would like something, and it always happens. All my friends envy me for my job.”
The pride in his eyes, the way he listens to her. He is a prick most of the time, but he’s deeply interested in how things work in their company.
“Besides you making a complete fool out of us, that was impressive.”
“No, Chloe, that was my job. Our employees are the most important assets we have, from the cleaning staff to the board members.”
“It was nice though.”
“Even though I ruined my douchebag image?”
“That you can never erase,” I say, his jaw dropping, and I giggle.
***
“What are you cooking?”
I force myself not to roll my eyes and instead point at him with a jar of paprika and say, “No, it’s more like what are we going to cook.”
His face scrunches up, and he plops onto the bar stool.
“I can’t cook.”
“No problem, I am an excellent teacher.”
Famous last words. Not a half an hour later the fire alarm goes off. Smoke surrounds us, and I toss him out of the kitchen. The moment I pour fresh oil in the pan, he peeks his head in as he whines, “I’m hungry.”
“Filip, make yourself disappear.”
“Who do you think I am? Dr. Strange?”
“You can stay but only if you keep quiet.”
“I can do that.” I question him with my eyes, and he zips his lips.
I give him five minutes tops until he opens his mouth again. He’s kind of sweet, and still he makes me crazy.
I bring a spoonful of vegetables to his lips, and his eyes light up.
“This is good.”
“Can you pay me a compliment without sounding so damn surprised?”
“I am sorry, I guess I am not used to this.”
Yes, me neither, I want to say, but instead I change the subject and confess, “My mom was also a model. I grew up rather self-sufficient because she wasn’t there for me much.”
“That’s not a mother, that’s just carrying a child for nine months.”
“Filip, she’s my mom.”
“Then why are you on the verge of crying?” he counters, and I dab at my eyes. When did I start crying?
“Stop making me tell you shit.”
“I lost a bet to Sophia once, and she made me wear a thong for a weekend. I rocked it.”
I burst into laughter, I love this part of him. This part I could never get tired of.
“You can be sweet too. Stop it.”
“Okay, I’ll stop,” he chuckles, and all the sadness is shoved aside.
“Thank you.”
“Chloe, don’t thank me, it’s killing me. I can’t stand it, I am simply being a decent person, am I not?”
“A fuckable one too.”
It’s his turn to laugh, and to my utter surprise, he takes the dishes and loads them in the dishwasher. When he’s done, he walks over to the couch, sits down, presses the Netflix button and asks, “Series or movie?”
“You commit to a series. A movie is more of a fling.”
“Series it is.” At his answer my heart somersaults.
After three episodes, I can’t hold my yawn, and he turns off the TV.
“Let’s get you to bed, you have an early flight to catch.”
“I know, but the traveling is what I love the most.”
“How long are you going to be away?”
“Four days.”
“I’ll pick you up from the airport.”
A warm and fuzzy feeling wraps around my heart, and excitement spreads through my core as we take the stairs to his bedroom, him tucking me to his side.
The first rays of sunlight stream through the large window, and I peel my eyes open. I have never stayed the night in someone else’s bed, and no one has spent the night at my place, Filip being the exception. As I caress his back, his toned skin, I can’t suppress the warmth settling in my chest. I like these feelings I feel with him. That it scares me less and less is a clear indicator I am not on high alert anymore, and it’s too late to escape this, whatever this “very domestic, casual sex with committing to a series” kind of thing is.
He turns to me, props up on his elbow, and we stare at each other. I can’t help taking in his tousled hair and grin. He pecks me on the lips, and I wrap my hands around him. My hand travels up his neck to his head. When I rub and scratch his head, he presses me to him.
“Don’t stop.”
“I wanted to suck you off, but now . . .”
He freezes and then laughs before he nips at my neck, sucking on my sensitive skin.
“You can do both.”
“Just one. Pick.”
“That’s evil. Fine, keep your hand in my hair.”
“No way,” I counter incredulously and giggle. “Why?”
“This feels more personal.” Translation, he has had his dick sucked more often than having his head caressed. Yes, we’re both starved for something more than sex, even though the sex between us is great.
He got me hooked on his stupid cereal. Even though I bought other food at the market to make a decent breakfast, we ended up eating cereal. I glance at my watch and shoot upright.
“I am going to be late,” I say, then place the bowl in the dishwasher and pull my hair into a bun. Before I have a chance to shout at him to get ready, he’s already waiting for me at the door. I can’t hold in my smile, and I kiss his lips as I pass by him on the way out.
In the car, my phone rings, and I pick up.
“I had someone look over the contract. I made some adjustments. You should be fine now.”
“Wait? What?”
“You realize your worth as a model has increased, right? I hired you a manager.”
“Damien.”
“Thank me later.”
“What?”
“It means you’re not a damn amateur anymore.”
“Okay.”
“I took care of it. Now you’re flying business and staying in an actual five-star hotel, not one of those dumps they sent you to before. Your agent’s name is Marlene Avien, and she’ll be waiting at the airport for you.”
“Come on, I am not even awake, and you dump all this information on me at once.”
“Make me proud.”
I hang up, my hand holding the cell dropping to the side when Filip looks at me from the corner of his eye.
“I have a manager now, apparently.”
“Yes, isn’t Damien the best?” A hint of sarcasm drips from his answer, cutting through my previous bewilderment.
“Do you have a problem with this?”
“You’re important to him, and this is his way of showing love. Are you sure you don’t want to find out if he’ll ever get over my sister and get with you?” As if I don’t know the answer to that question already.
“And if that time comes, you know I will choose him, right?” I shouldn’t have said this, he shouldn’t have said that either. We reach the airport, and I storm off without even a goodbye or a thank you.
***
My new manager is dressed to conquer. She’s wearing an elegant suit and heavy accessories, and her short hair is slicked back to her shoulders. Without me having to open my mouth, the upgrades come pouring through. When we’re seated in business class, it dawns on me that my life is about to change.
“Sweetie, don’t cry. If there is something you don’t like, just tell me. Do you want another seat, a snack? Champagne?”
“No, everything is great.”
She smiles, understanding crossing her face.
“Your life will change from now on. This agency is the best in the world, and they want you.” Yes, it was only a little while ago that I realized I don’t have to crawl if I have friends who push me hard like a rocket. I guess I will just enjoy the ride.
“You’re amazing. I’ve never worked with someone like you.” A blush creeps across my cheeks.
“Thank you.”
***
In business class on the way back after my photo shoot, my manager peruses a tenth contract—I’ve counted—while I take a nap. When we land, I step outside Heathrow and spot his car. I didn’t text him, he didn’t either and when he approaches me, his head is down while his eyes search mine.
“What about binge watching our series?” he asks. I nod because he has me, and I can’t turn around anymore. I will survive when this ends, but for now I want him to make me feel good.
When we reach his house, the smell of a home-cooked meal permeates the air.
“Your housekeeper’s vacation is over?”
“I made it myself, but she helped.”
Why does he have to do things like this?
I swallow the burnt instead of crispy pieces of meat, because he made a gesture and because he looks at me with those puppy dog eyes, and I will eat char if he keeps looking at me like this.
“It’s good.”
“Really? I asked for her help, and she showed me some things these last few days.”
“She must have the patience of a saint.”
He chuckles and says, “The way I reacted was not okay. I am sorry.”
I put the napkin down and fix my eyes on him, “Why?”
“It hit me how much he cares for you. I only saw him this involved with my sister, and I got confused.”
“Are you jealous?”
“No, but I am still loyal to her, even though she doesn’t deserve it.”
“Filip, I don’t understand what this has to do with me?”
“You’re right, it doesn’t. I am well aware you would choose him and not me—everyone does.”
Nothing ever pierced my heart like his words do right now. The pain lacing them, his eyes subdued, the tone of giving up.
“I shouldn’t have said that either.” Look at us, acting like grown-ups. My feelings for Damien will be constant, but they shifted from infatuation to something else. I don’t want him as a lover anymore, but I need him as a friend.
“It’s okay, Chloe. I’ll take you until he wakes up and realizes he should give you two a try.”
I should have never said that. I could never make Filip understand it was just my default mode when anger overshadows my rationality. He kept himself closed, and when he tried to open up, I made it clear he shouldn’t. Have we doomed this relationship from the start?
We clear the table and trudge to the living room. We have never been so far away, not even when we were strangers.
