Chapter 10
The Hard Shit
"That felt a little condescending, to be honest," Killian says.
"It wasn't. I promise you it wasn't. It just…it does matter. The reason I have issues about…that—it matters to me, and it should matter to you, because it affects you."
"I just don't want to cause you pain by making you talk about it."
"I am noticing that tendency, Killy," I tell him. "But sometimes, you just have to dig into the hard stuff even if it sucks. Been down the road where we didn't, and it didn't go well. If Jocko and I had talked about our stuff at the outset, we would have known that it wasn't gonna work between us."
"Can I ask a question?"
"Of course."
He glances at the ceiling, then at me. "Did you go into things with him thinking it was gonna be a relationship? Or was it more casual to start and sort of became a relationship?"
"Mmmm?" I hum, thinking. "Bit of both, really. I met him at the gym. Some six-foot-a-billion jerk-waffle had left three plates on the bar in the power rack, set so high I couldn't get them off on my own, and it was the only rack not in use. Jocko stopped his set to help me."
"People who don't re-rack their weights at the gym oughta be strung up by their thumbs," he says.
I smirk up at him, an eyebrow quirked. "Lot of experience with public gyms, huh?"
He narrows his eyes at me. "One of the security guys got transferred off compound duty because he kept leaving his weights lying around. Sasha got so mad he cursed the guy out in like four languages. He wanted to fire him, but Dad just transferred him to LA for Starlet Duty."
I snicker. "For what now?"
"Starlet Duty. Bodyguarding celebrities. It's the entry-level position at A1S."
"You'd think that would be the position everyone wants, " I say. "Hanging around stars all day?"
"You'd think," he answers. "But it's boring as fuck, apparently.
If you want to do that job, you don't apply to A1S.
You come to us because you're a top-tier operator and you want to work for the best security firm on the planet.
Bodyguarding actors and their brats is not the job an operator wants. Not a lot of shooting, for one thing."
"In an ideal world, no," I say.
Killian snorts. "And now that I've totally derailed the conversation."
I trace the hint of a cleft in his chin with the tip of my index finger.
"No, not at all. Where was I? Oh, Jocko.
Right, yeah. You asked if it started out as a relationship.
And now that I've thought about it, no, it didn't. I'd just gotten home from spring break down at the compound.
You were…distant. Barely looked at me. Cal was dating some local girl on some island or other, and you spent most of the week I was down there with Cal, hanging at his girlfriend's family's place. Which I thought was weird."
"Oh, god." He rolls his eyes, shakes his head.
"That was so embarrassing. I was under the impression that Lucia's best friend liked me—Cal told me Lucia had said as much.
But apparently he misunderstood what Lucia had said—she thought I was cute but too quiet.
He only heard the cute part." Loo-CHEE-uh.
I cover my mouth. "Oh boy."
He looks away, visibly cringing. "Yeah. So she didn't like me at all, and I spent most of that week either third-wheeling Cal and Lucia or off on my own so I wouldn't third-wheel them.
" He swallows hard. "I was one hundred percent avoiding you, though.
You showed up looking fuckin'…" a shake of his head.
"Fine as hell. You'd just chopped your hair off, and that bob or whatever was hot as hell.
And that first day you were down, we all had dinner. You wore this white sundress."
I grin up at him. “I know the dress." I bite my lower lip, hesitating over the truth. "I wore it for you."
"You looked so fucking goddamned fine, Story," he whispers, his voice tortured.
"That fucking sundress. The way your ass looked?
It was so short I kept thinking I'd get a better look at your ass, but I never did.
And your tits. Dear Jesus. I wanted you so goddamned bad.
" He looks down at me. "You clocked that I didn't leave the table once, even after the dinner was over? You left before I did."
I nod, frowning. “Now that you mention it, yeah. Why?"
"Because the sight of you in that goddamn dress kept causing problems for me. You'd bend over to talk to someone, and I’d get a clear look straight down your blouse. Or you'd get up and go around the table to talk to someone else and I'd have to try like hell to not stare at your ass in the dress."
I cover my smirk. "All intentional, I assure you."
He frowns. "Wait, for real?"
I nod. "Absolutely. I was trying to get your attention.
See if you liked me. If you were attracted to me.
" My smile fades. "You barely looked at me.
I was crushed, honestly. And then you spent the next three and a half days on the other side of the Caribbean.
When you came back, I never got more than five minutes with you. "
"All intentional, I assure you," he says, smirking as he echoes my statement. "I didn't realize what you were doing, obviously. I just felt tortured by what I wanted but didn't think I could have."
I laugh at this. "Oh, the irony. And that is irony, I'm, like, 99 percent sure."
"I think so, too." He frowns, thinking, and then glances down at me, a question in his eyes. "Crushed?"
I nod. "Totally crushed. The haircut, the dress, the bending over near you, the extra swish of my hips whenever I thought you were watching? Yeah. That was an all-out campaign to get your attention."
"Why did you not just…talk to me?"
"Why didn't you?" I counter.
"I was scared," he answers instantly.
“Well, so was I."
"Oh."
"I've always valued our friendship, Killy.
So, so much. More than just about any other relationship in my life except Mom and Dad, I value you, and our friendship.
That's what's made it so painful to be so attracted to you for so long. Having to suppress it because it would have been inappropriate at best, if not illegal or immoral, was…that wasn’t difficult.
But as you grew into maturity and the age difference stopped mattering so much, it got harder and harder and more and more painful to want you so much.
But I didn't think you liked me back, and I was so scared of losing your friendship as well as of being rejected that I just…
I was never courageous enough to make a big move.
I guess I hoped that if I…" I hesitate, tip my head side to side, "did a little flirty temptation in front of you to get your attention, you'd see that I liked you and you'd make the move so I didn't have to. "
"And I just thought that was you being you."
I laugh. "I don't know how I feel about you thinking that my version of going all out to get your attention is just me being me."
"That I was an oblivious shithead."
I cackle out loud at this, and clap a hand over my mouth. "Noted."
He frowns, reaching down to pinch the outside of my buttock. "Hey, now. You were supposed to say, 'No, Killy, you're not a shithead.'"
I move my hand to his cheek. "You aren't. You were pretty remarkably oblivious, though."
"Here's a pro-tip, sweetheart: subtlety doesn't usually work on men."
"No shit." I let out a sigh, then. "Well, anyway.
I went home terribly sad and depressed and crushed and feeling rejected and unattractive.
Which sucked." I cover his mouth. "Not your fault, so don't even try to apologize.
Point is, Jocko liked me right off the bat.
I could just tell he was into me. And he was an attractive guy, had a good job, drove a nice car, had a nice place, he was nice to me, he liked me, he spent money on me, made me feel…
" I shrug, not wanting to get emotional but knowing it's gonna happen anyway.
“He made me feel attractive when I needed to feel that.
So at first, for me, it wasn't supposed to be serious.
But we kept going out on dates, and I realized I genuinely liked him, and that made me realize that you weren't ever going to see me like that, so I should just give it up.
Move on. Up until then, I'd only really dated on a more casual basis.
" I bite my lip and look away, knowing he's gonna clock what I'm not saying.
"Story."
“I know, I know. Radical honesty. I only had one other relationship that I thought was going to be something like serious, and that was in med school.
But that's the next part of me answering your question. Back to Jocko. I had stuff by then. Hangups and whatever. About you, about everything that happened with Everett, the guy from med school I’m gonna tell you about in a minute.
And I didn't talk to Jocko about any of it.
I wasn't open with him, or he with me. We just hung out and had fun, mostly.
And yeah, by that I mean regular going out to concerts and stuff, as well as horizontal fun.
It just sort of slowly morphed into a real relationship, and by the time I realized that he had some major issues that reacted negatively with my own, it was too late.
He was possessive, and I need to feel safe and free.
I don't see the point in going into everything that went wrong with Jocko because it’s all coming from the same place: he and I not discussing our issues when we realized things were getting serious. "
"And it was serious?" he asks.
I nod. "Oh yeah. We talked about moving in together, but didn't, thank god. I really cared about him. I wasn't totally fair earlier—he's not really an asshole. He just has his own stuff that made him super insecure, and I’m not the type of person that can reassure him the way he needs."
"The jealousy as you described it did enter asshole territory, Story."