Falling into Forever (Falling into You) - By Lauren Abrams Page 0,57
what I’m thanking him for, because he gives me a remorseful smile.
“You’re leaving, aren’t you?”
“I have to. I need some time to think. Furthermore, if I don’t show at this dinner, Eva will kill me.”
I reach down and slide my shirt back over my head before turning to look at him one last time.
“You should go. You really should. You’re right. You need time to think.”
“I meant it. I just need some time. There weren’t any alternative meanings there. I’m not running away. Just taking a moment.”
I take his face in my hands and give him a long kiss that contains everything that I don’t have words for, gratitude and love and pain and lust and heartache.
He gives me a bittersweet smile in response before looking at the door. “It was grand to be young, wasn’t it? There weren’t so many things that we had to be sorry for.”
That sounds too much like goodbye, and that wasn’t my intention, so I measure my response carefully.
“There weren’t so many things that we were proud of, either.”
“Fair enough.”
“I think I might have to exempt the breakdancing movie from that. What was it called? Breakdown? I wouldn’t be too proud of that one, if I were you.”
He throws the pillow at me and I narrowly avoid it with a well-timed duck.
“Chris, I’ll see you at dinner, okay?” When he doesn’t respond, I prod the side of the bed with my hand. “Okay?”
“Sure.”
I don’t entirely believe him, but staying in this room for one moment longer might make me say something that I’ll regret.
So, I leave, but not without leaving a piece of myself behind.
Chapter 14
CHRIS
I slam my hand into the headboard as I hear the door shut behind her.
The hunger for the head buzz, the loose, easy feeling, the release of obligations in favor of blackness, fills my gut.
I want a drink more than I’ve ever wanted one in my life.
And for an alcoholic, that’s saying something.
She shouldn’t need time to think about me. When had it all started to go wrong? How had I managed to screw this up so royally?
But I know the answer to that question. Ultimately, London.
But it had begun long before that.
Ecstasy. New York. The apartment. Chelsea.
* * *
5 ½ Years Earlier
New York
I turn the key in the lock as one of the girls behind me giggles maniacally. I spin around to face them.
“Shut up!”
“What, is your mom going to be mad?” she says, intentionally raising her voice, which causes even more giggles.
My annoyance level is reaching monumental proportions.
“My girlfriend. And yes, she will be very mad.”
“You have a girlfriend?”
Adam, my costar from Ecstasy, looks totally confused. “You still have a girlfriend, man? The same one? Really?”
“Yes, the same one. Really. And she’s going to be pissed if we wake her up at 5 am.”
My buzz is starting to wear off, leaving me with nothing but a gigantic headache and what feels like cotton balls in my mouth. Suddenly, bringing Adam and my newfound friends from the club for breakfast on the terrace doesn’t seem like such a good idea after all. The three blond girls in the back are still giggling as we stand in the entryway. The sound of their tinny voices combining is only making the headache that much worse.
“You all seriously need to shut up. Adam, do you think you can remember how to make coffee?”
“You have one of those instant press machines, right?”
I look at Adam and his friend Charlie, whose eyes are starting to roll back in his head. He’s obviously coming down from some sort of high. Shit. I have to get them out of there before Hallie sees.
“Never mind. There’s a table on the terrace. Grab the fruit from the fridge and the bagels from the counter and head out there. I’ll put the coffee on,” I say, rubbing my temples.
“This place is a freaking palace,” one of the girls (Ami or Abby or Allie or something or other) shrieks. “You must be rich! I mean, I know you were in that movie with the prom and everything, but, I mean, you must be, like really, really rich.”
Adam throws his arm around my shoulders. “This is the next movie star, ladies. I’m talking private jets and meetings with kings and prime ministers and billion-dollar fundraising dinners. Just wait until the end of the summer. James Ross. I’m just planning to ride his coattails all the way to the bank.”
My head is really starting to throb now. I feel the bile