Lose Me: (New Adult Billionaire Romance) (Broken Idols) Read online

  His body tenses and he runs his eyes all over me, as though he’s thinking the exact same thing. He sighs deeply. “You’re mad at me,” he pronounces.

  “It’s not. . .” I begin to say. I can’t do this, I think frantically.

  “You’re shivering. Go, I’ll wait here.”

  He’s in his car, at the exact spot, when I return. He’s parked on the curb and the engine is running.

  As I come out in jeans and a light sweater, still shaking from the cold, he looks up at me. His expression turns wary as he sees the determination in my eyes, and I quickly look away. “Gosh, your lips are blue,” he says, opening the door. “Come on in.”

  He turns the heat at full blast, but I don’t get in. I close my eyes, thinking of that hot air hitting my chilled skin. Thinking of his knee next to mine. . . No, I’m not getting in.

  “Ari,” he says softly, his hands still on his lap, not making a move to grab the door for me. Leaving it up to me.

  “Don’t you have to work?”

  “It’s a Lizzie-Will scene. I’ll have to say my lines to Elle,” he says, wincing. “I’d love it if you were there, Ari, I sort of. . . need you to be Elizabeth, so I can be a proper Darcy.” He flashes me a smile. “I bet Tim will let you say one or two of Catherine de Bourgh’s lines, if I ask him nicely. You don’t mind coming along, do you?”

  “I’m sure that’s not true,” I tell him. “You’re an actor. And I hate to admit it, but you actually don’t suck.”

  He looks down, hiding a smile. “Ah, you caught me,” he murmurs. “I’ll just be honest then, and say that I’d like you to be there?” His voice tilts in the end of the sentence, as though it’s a question.

  “Wes. . . what I said the other day, that I don’t have time for a summer. . . ” I don’t know how to continue.

  The smile fades from his face in a second. He turns his head away as he grips the steering wheel with one hand. His knuckles turn white. Then he makes a laughing, scoffing sound.

  “Man, it’s true isn’t it? You don’t want anything to do with me,” he says quietly. “You really don’t. I tried to get past your defenses, because I thought you were scared to trust me—not that I blame you—but it’s not that at all, is it? You simply don’t want this.”

  I can’t deny what he’s saying to me, because then he’ll ask me why, but I won’t admit it either.

  So I just stand there, suspended by my own fear, trapped inside all this truth I can’t tell him. I don’t realize it until he does, but tears start rolling down my face.

  He takes a sharp breath and opens the door. He gets out and stands in front of me. I don’t move, frozen on the spot.

  “I’m sorry I yelled, it wasn’t at you. I was disappointed in myself for blowing it.” Placing a finger under my chin, he turns my head towards him and wipes my cheeks dry. Fresh tears fall and his lips go white. “Don’t. . . don’t be hurting.” he says softly, “I can’t deal with it.” I look down; the look on his face is killing me. “You said you were halfway into. . . you said. . .” he whispers in a small, hurt voice. “Was that a lie? Was it. . . was it because I’m Wes Spencer?”

  Oh, no.

  I can’t do this.

  I turn around and run blindly into the street as he yells my name, his voice catching like a wounded animal’s. I don’t know if he’s following me or not; all I know is that his voice fades as I run and run, the asphalt thudding beneath my sneakers, until I bump into someone.

  “Whoa!” a pair of arms grab me to stop me from falling, and Ollie’s worried eyes meet mine. “Ari? What’s wrong?” he asks, his brows meeting in concern. “Did Wes—?”

  “Ollie,” I say, trying to catch my breath. “I’m so sorry, I just left, I. . . I hurt him.”

  “It’s okay,” he says calmly, studying my face, “there’s never been anyone to tell him no. He hasn’t ever had to work for people’s affection or approval. It’s good for his ego, right?” He smiles.

  But of course it’s not. It’s got nothing to do with his ‘ego’. He’s been nothing but considerate and sweet to me, especially this past week. No wonder he’s so confused by my behavior.

  The memory of how he looked is tearing me apart. And maybe it’s doing the same to him.

  “Please,” I tell Ollie.

  “I’ll take care of it,” he answers. “But I can’t leave you like this. Tell me what’s wrong.”

  I don’t know if it’s because of the initial attraction I had for him, which by the way has now completely faded away, or the weird familiarity I feel when I am with him, but I suddenly know I can trust him. “You can tell me anything,” he says again, locking his blue gaze to mine. I believe him. For the first time in days, I feel safe.

  In the distance, Wes’ car takes off with a furious spin, disappearing in a cloud of dust and a sickening screech of tires.

  “Crap,” I whisper.

  “Let’s go somewhere we can talk,” Ollie says, his eyes on me.

  We sit in one of the cafes at Liston.

  Ollie frowns at me, and proceeds to order enough food to feed the entire cast of First Sentences.

  His eyes are watching me, waiting, and I suddenly realize what I’m about to do.

  You know you’ve had it happen to you. Suddenly, a literal stranger, a cashier or a taxi driver, starts telling you their life story. Their wife left them, their kid crashed their car, they need money for their mom’s hospice care. And you wonder, wow, this person must be really desperate to talk if they started spewing out their darkest struggles to a stranger.

  Well, if you’ve ever wondered what kind of person would do that, look no further. That’s me right now.

  Poised to tell everything I’ve been scared to even think about to this dude who, sure, he isn’t a total stranger, but he isn’t much more. The thing is, if I tell him, if I let the words out of my mouth, then there’s no going back. Even supposing I can trust him not to tell Wes or anyone else, he’ll still know. Which means it will be real.

  It will be out there.

  “I. . . I have a problem,” I say, lamely.

  “Anything I can do to help?” he says immediately. I smile. How long has it been since I last smiled?

  “No,” I reply. “Thanks. It’s. . . it’s personal. But what I mean is, I can’t deal with a. . . a boy in the middle of it.”

  “Why?” he asks. “Listen, I know Wes is not the easiest guy to. . . to deal with, but he’s decent. He’s a good guy. And I haven’t met a more loyal person in my life. If you’ve got his respect, then he’s in it for life.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah,” he nods. “He’s been my best friend ever since I can remember. I have had some issues of my own with an alcoholic mother and an absent dad, and he has had his share of stuff too, but he’s always put everything aside for me. Always, from the first moment.”

  “He has—” I hesitate. “He’s been pretty amazing to me too.”

  “Yeah,” he replies, as though he’d expected nothing less. That is so different from the original impression I had of Wes, I’m shocked by how wrong I got him. “But this. . . I’ve never seen him like this,” Ollie continues. “He’s done a one-eighty. He was even telling me he wants to believe in God. He’s not drinking, he’s staying in at nights. . . I’d almost say that he’s a different person.”

  “Well, don’t look at me. All I’ve done is hurt him. And I’m going to hurt him even worse, if what you’re saying is true.”

  “Look,” he says suddenly, sitting up, bringing his face close to mine. “Normally, I would destroy you.” It sounds like a joke, but it isn’t. He’s dead serious.

  “Normally?” I lift my eyebrows.

  “No one hurts him,” he replies simply. “Not on my watch. And he looks out for me as well. We’re Laurel and Hardy, after all.”

  “But this isn’t ‘normally’?”

  “It’s not.”

  He’s trying to tell me something, but he can’t get it out. He looks like he’s strugglin
g with himself. Well, that makes two of us.

  “Will you come to the beach party tonight?” he asks suddenly.

  I already know about this, Anna told me. She practically begged me to come, to give her another chance. But with the situation with Wes being what it is, I don’t think I can do it.

  Also, speaking of ‘tonight’, it will be tonight in practically half an hour. Twilight is already enveloping us in a warm blue light, lanterns beginning to glow orange all around us, in the bistros.

  “Who will be there?” I ask him.

  “I will,” he answers simply. “I’d like to talk some more. I just found you, after all. I want to get to know you.”

  He just found me? What is that supposed to mean?

  “If you text me that Wes won’t be there, I’ll come,” I tell him.

  “He won’t,” he says. “He’s worried he’ll be tempted to drink.” He watches me for a minute. “How did you do that, by the way?”

  “Do what?”

  “I’ve been trying to get him to quit for years. I thought. . . I said it would take a miracle to save him. He wasn’t headed for a good place.” He’s staring at me again. “It looks as though it did take a miracle,” he says finally.

  ◊◊◊

  The party starts at ten, and it’s going to be at the beach, which means it will be cold, so I wear a long sweater over denim shorts and soft ankle boots.

  I tell my dad that I won’t stay for more than two hours, tops, and he kisses the top of my head.

  “Have fun,” he whispers, his voice rough.

  “Thanks,” I say. “I’ll try.”

  I’m more intrigued at what Ollie said than anything. And I really hope Anna proves her honesty this time, because I would so hate to have been wrong in her for the second time.

  “I really, really hate you right now,” Katia tells me as I call her from the car. “Going on a beach cocktails party with Tristan and Kat. . . . while I’m stuck serving obese ladies with bad manners all night. Not fair.”

  Before I can reply, my phone blinks on and off, and there’s a call waiting. The name on the screen makes my breath catch.

  Spiros

  I’m so shocked at seeing his name like that on my phone, that I swerve to the left by accident, and right the wheel just in time to avoid oncoming traffic.

  “Hey, Katia,” I’m trying to sound normal, but my heart is thundering in my ears. “I’m almost there, I’ll call you as soon as I’m back home.”

  “You better,” she laughs. “Love you.”

  I end her call as well as Spiro’s and turn my phone off.

  Breathe, I remind myself.

  The private beach that leads to Club Med is lit up with dozens of torches, their flickering flames reflected across the inky surface of the sea. Sweltering waves crash on the beach, their rhythmic sound mingling with the buzz and laughter of high-pitched voices, which carries all the way to the street. The smell of roasted meat and alcohol greets me as I approach a group of giggling girls with bare feet and Anna greets me with a hug. Electro music bleats from the speakers, and there’s barely room to stand, it’s so crowded. Everyone is here, actors, crew members, extras, people who were just passing by.

  There’s security everywhere, of course, but no paparazzi or cameras anywhere, and it feels like an informal party between friends.

  Half an hour passes and I’m feeling pretty chill, actually. There’s no sign of Wes or a headache and I’m almost surprised to find that I’m laughing and joking around with Anna like a normal person. She’s so down-to-earth and funny, it’s difficult not to like her immediately. I feel like I’ve known her for ever, although we don’t talk about anything hugely important.

  No sign of Elle either.

  I begin to breathe a bit more easily.

  I notice Ollie craning his neck and searching for me four minutes later. I see him spot me, and the next second his tall form starts approaching, making his way easily around the crowd. He grabs a cup and sits with us on a log on the other side of Anna, water lapping at our feet.

  “Dirt, nice,” he grumbles. “Wasn’t there a place where we could have a civilized party?” He winks at me, but he seems a bit preoccupied.

  A guitar is strumming to our left, and two or three guys are trying to remember the lyrics to a popular song about drinking twelve shots in a row.

  Ollie’s lips are smiling, but his eyes are sad.

  “What’s up?” Anna asks him.

  “Wes,” he says curtly.

  “What now?” Anna asks and my head snaps up.

  “He’s not here, is he?” I ask.

  Ollie takes a swig out of his plastic cup and nods. “Smashed. He’s been—Ari, no, hey,” he interrupts what he was saying and grabs my hand. “I know what you’re thinking, and it’s wrong. If he’s drinking, it’s no one’s fault but his, okay? No one else’s responsibility.”

  “But, Ollie, I. . . ”

  “Look at you two, one big happy family,” a voice interrupts me out of nowhere. “Aw hashtag cute!”

  It’s Elle. A girl is standing next to her, looking down at us with sneering eyes—I think she plays one of Elle’s sisters in the film. Or is it one of Ollie’s sisters? Yes, she must be Caroline Bingley. Man that book is heavy on sisters.

  With one abrupt movement, Ollie gets up, his cup rolling at his feet, forgotten.

  “You need to go. Now.” He takes her elbow and starts tugging her away from us, but she doesn’t budge.

  The ‘Caroline’ girl starts talking. “Why are we on a beach, Oliver?” she purrs to Ollie, inching close to him. “Don’t they have any roof gardens in this place? I mean, a beach party? What is this, high school?”

  Ollie sighs and rubs his fingers over his eyes. “It’s called ‘having fun’,” he tells her tiredly. He puts his arm lightly on my elbow and starts tugging me away. “Welcome to the country that invented it. Let’s go, Ari,” he says to me in a lower voice.

  She shrugs, following us. “Elle says it’s third world, the way they—” she stops, pretending she’s only just noticed me. “Oh, I’m so sorry, am I interrupting something? Were you and your sister talking about anything important?” she tells him, her eyes on me.

  As though she’s suddenly realized something, they go huge. She brings her hand to her mouth. “Oops, does she even know that yet? How is that even possible?” She turns to me. “Gosh, this is beyond funny! Don’t you read Young People magazine, honey?”

  “Shut up!” Ollie shouts at her, his eyes spitting fire, and everyone around us goes quiet, staring.

  “What?” I’m suddenly feeling light-headed. A weight is pressing on my chest and I have a hard time breathing. “What did you say?” I ask again, hating the trembling in my voice. Maybe I didn’t hear her right.

  “You’re one of Christina Taylor’s brats aren’t you?” she asks me, sitting down beside me. “We all know that that’s the only reason why you’re here. She arranged it for you, right? You’re her dirty little secret!”

  Laughter erupts somewhere behind me, but it feels like I’m underwater and the noise is coming to me from a distance. The shapes of people blur together and the beach dips to one side. I feel Anna’s hands on my back and she’s yelling at them to stop. Ollie looks about to murder them both.

  But they don’t look bothered in the least. Actually, I think they’re enjoying this.

  “Ooops, did we spill the beans?” Elle twinkles. “Well, better hear it now, right? I mean, it doesn’t look like anyone was going to tell you. But, yeah, you’ll find your picture next to his all over the internet soon enough, comparing your noses—” she pauses to snicker, “for sibling likenesses and what not.”

  “Ollie, is it true?” I ask in a low, foreign voice.

  I’m waiting for him to deny it, to tell me it’s all lies, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t.

  Oh my gosh, I was. . . I was attracted to him. I told him—He is Christina’s son? Hers?

  So he was in on it from the first. And
what about Wes? That first day in his yacht, did he know. . . ?

  I can’t even think about it.

  “Look at me Ari, I’m so sorry, I didn’t even know myself until. . . ” Ollie is lifting my chin, trying to capture my eyes frantically, but I turn away from him and start running. “No, not that way!” I hear him yell, then he curses and lowers his voice. “Dammit, I can’t go with her, we can’t be seen together. Anna, can you get Wes?”

  Everything is getting blurry at the edges. I run smack into something hard, and stop, looking around in a daze.

  “Awww.” Elle gets in my face. “Look at that shocked face! Know what would be perfect right now? ”

  A flash snaps before my eyes, blinding me, and then more laughter and more pictures. I hear their phones clicking away, snapping pictures of my misery like a sinister soundtrack to my horror and I am up and running away before I realize it.

  ‘Don’t go that way.’ So that’s what he meant.

  I escape from the flashes, running harder into the darkness, away from the laughter, away from the lies. Away from the truth. No, I think. No no no no.

  Couldn’t this have waited until I was dead?

  I just found you, Ollie said to me only this afternoon.

  No no no no no.

  I run along the shoreline until the catch in my throat closes up and I can’t draw breath. When my legs give way, I flop down at the edge of the water, gasping for breath, the world around me going fuzzy.

  Air, I think, I can’t breathe. Air.

  My lungs begin to hurt and I open my mouth but nothing comes in.

  I’m drowning on dry land.

  tumblr.

  page 133

  “In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

  #ari

  Originally posted by: @spencerstumblr

  Notes

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