Stir Me (13 page)

Her voice lowers. "I'm trying. But I'm not the one who ran off to go save my ex-girlfriend."

"Is that really what's bothering you?"

She stops at the light. Second Street. Two blocks from Ocean Avenue, from the winding path overlooking the beach.

Alyssa takes a slow breath. "Part of it."

"Care to fill me in on the rest of it?"

She shakes her head, but she squeezes my hand again. The light changes and we walk across the street.

Her breath is slow and steady, but there's still dread in her expression. She squeezes my hand a little tighter, her head turned towards the ground.

We stop at the red light on Ocean Avenue. Alyssa opens her mouth like she's going to say something, but she takes a long sip instead.

The light turns, and we walk across the long street, to the path better known as Palisades Park. It's a mile or so of sidewalk sandwiched by greenbelt and a steep cliff that drops onto Pacific Coast Highway.

Alyssa walks to the edge of the path. She presses her hands against the railing. The ocean is maybe a quarter mile away and the skyline is an expanse of blue.

She takes another long sip of her drink. She turns to the street, pressing her back against the railing. She points to a restaurant on Santa Monica Boulevard. "That's where Ryan asked me to marry him."

"Yeah?"

She nods. "That was barely six months ago."

"A lot can change in six months."

"Yeah." She squeezes her cup. "It looks so different than it did that day."

"Ally..."

She brings her eyes to mine. "Where did you ask Samantha?"

"You don't want to talk about that."

"I'll decide what I want to talk about."

I bite my tongue. Fine. I can tell this story. "At USC. We were visiting an old professor and I asked her to stop by the building where we met. She was barely listening until she saw the ring. And whatever was on her face then, it wasn't anything close to joy."

Alyssa presses her fingers into her cup. "I know the feeling."

I set my cup on the railing, turn to Alyssa, and lift her sunglasses off her eyes. There's so much pain in her expression. There's something she desperately wants to say.

"You want to tell me what you're thinking?" I ask.

"What if we had it right the first time? What if you were supposed to be with her, and I was supposed to be with Ryan?"

"Do you really believe that?"

She presses her eyes closed. "No." She shifts, her gaze turning back to the restaurant. "But I was terrified you would come back in love with her."

I run my fingertips over her cheek. "I love you. Only you."

She moves closer. Wraps me in a hug and squeezes for dear life. "But she talks to you. What if you get tired of me keeping everything to myself?"

"That will have nothing to do with Samantha."

She squeezes tighter. And tighter.

I stroke her hair. "Something happened over the weekend, didn't it?"

She nods.

"You weren't at the movies, were you?"

"No."

"Where were you?"

"At Laurie's."

"Alone?" I ask.

She nods.

"Well, then it can't be that bad. It's not like you were out fucking Ryan."

She stifles a laugh. Her eyes turn to mine. "You're obsessed."

I nod and brush a hair from her eyes. There's still so much anguish in them. So much she needs to tell me.

"You're going to be upset." Her voice is low, desperate.

"We already established that you weren't fucking Ryan, so it can't be all that bad."

A warm breeze blows over us. We're in such a perfect, beautiful place, but the only thing I can feel is Alyssa's pain.

I point to a bench. She shakes her head and presses her palms against the railing again.

Her eyes are on the ocean. "I did the food challenge."

"What happened?"

"I didn't... I'm sorry, Luke, but I fucked it up." She looks at the ground. Her hands squeeze each other so tightly her knuckles turn white.

"You know you can tell me anything."

She nods and takes another sip of her coffee. Her gaze moves back to the beach, to the expanse of sand and ocean.

"I thought it would be okay. I was stressed, but I thought I could handle it. I'm always stressed, especially when you're not here."

She takes a long sip from her coffee, her gaze flitting from me to her cup. "I didn't think it would be a big deal. It was just a chocolate bar. It should have been easy. All I had to do was eat a few squares of chocolate and not binge and not purge. That's nothing. Normal people do it every day."

She presses her fingers into her coffee cup. She's still somewhere else, but she's bringing that world here. She's letting me in. I have to help her carry this pain.

I offer my hand. She takes it, but she still won't look at me.

"I couldn't stop at two squares. I ate the entire bar. And then I started to panic. I was alone, at Laurie's, and I was only a few blocks from Whole Foods. I didn't really think about it. I only knew that I'd fucked up and I'd have to fix it. And, as long as I had fucked up, I might as well go all the way with it." She finally meets my gaze. "And then I was on the bathroom floor, empty again, crying because I fucked up again."

The silence falls around us. There's a soft breeze blowing through the trees. There are footsteps around us, other people walking their dogs or rushing to work. There are cars zipping down the street, honking, rolling their windows down to take in the Pacific Ocean.

"Why didn't you call me?" I ask.

Her eyes turn to the ground. "I couldn't. Not knowing you were with Samantha."

I clench my fists. I need to stay calm, to prove to her that she can always trust me. But she should have called. She knows she's supposed to call when she's overwhelmed.

She promised.

"You're mad," she says.

"No, I'm just..."

"Disappointed?" She says it like it's the worst thing she's ever heard.

"You promised you'd call if you were overwhelmed."

"I'm sorry."

I shake my head. "I want to help you."

She takes a step back. "Then try being here." She clenches her fists, sinking into her thoughts. "No, it's better this way. I should do this on my own."

"You're going to take on your entire eating disorder recovery all by yourself?"

She presses her hands against the railing. "I have my therapist."

"You have me."

"I have you if I'm doing well. But if I keep fucking up, you'll keep looking at me like I'm some priceless work of art in desperate need of restoration."

"That's not true."

I reach for her hand, but she takes another step away.

"Alyssa."

"I get it. I'm a disappointment. You thought you were different than Ryan, that you would be the one to fix me, but now that it's difficult..." She takes another step away.

I grab her wrists. "I'm here for the long haul. No matter how difficult it is."

She shakes her head. "We should go. I don't want you to be late."

"I'll decide if I want to be late."

"I'd like to go."

I take a deep breath. "Fine, but only if you promise to come over tonight."

"Not to talk."

"Yes to talk." I lighten my grip and take another step towards her. "I'm not going to let you lock me out."

Her voice is barely a whisper. "I don't owe you anything."

"So do it because you love me. Or because you know how much it would mean to me." I wrap my arms around her waist. "Or because you think I'm hot."

She lets out a tiny laugh. "I'll consider it."

"I'll do anything I can to help you."

"Okay." She nods. "But can we talk about it later?"

"Later tonight?"

"Okay. Later tonight."

She takes my hand, and we walk back to the car in silence.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Alyssa is sitting on the edge of the pool. Her dress is hiked up to her thighs and her legs are dangling in the water. She doesn't look up when I step into the backyard. She keeps her attention on the clear blue water.

The sky is streaked with the red glow of sunset. It's dim, dim enough that the pool lights are illuminating the water with a pleasant glow. The light dances on her face, but I can't find the beauty in it. All I see is how much she hurts.

"Hey," I say.

She runs her fingers over the hem of her dress. "Hey yourself."

"I have a terrible problem."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhmm." I step into the backyard. "I'd like to sit next to you, but I'm still in my suit."

She smirks. "You never have to ask my permission to take your clothes off."

But even the idea of me taking my clothes off doesn't rouse her attention. Her eyes stay on the pool. Her hands stay on her dress.

I strip to my boxers and leave my clothes in a pile on the floor. The evening air is cool, but it feels good against my skin, like it's waking me up.

I move to the pool and sit next to her. She turns her gaze to me, looking me up and down like she wouldn't dare miss a chance to see me half-naked. She starts at my eyes and works her way to my toes.

She laughs. "Nice socks."

"This is my seduction outfit."

She smiles. Her eyes are bright. "It's working."

I slip my feet, socks and all, into the water. She laughs again, and it's like some of the fog surrounding her has lifted.

Like she's going to be okay.

"I'm sorry about this morning. I did want to talk to you about it. I do." She pulls at her dress.

"We can talk now."

She nods and she scoots a little closer to me. Her eyes stay on the water, but she rests her head on my shoulder. "I had a feeling I'd fuck up the food challenge on my own, but I couldn't bring myself to call you. I kept picturing Samantha sitting there next to you, threatening to attempt suicide again if she didn't get every ounce of your attention."

"I would have been happy to step away for an hour or two."

"It would have gone the same way if we were on the phone. I would have started freaking out and hung up on you."

"Maybe not," I say.

She presses her fingers into her dress. "It's not the same when you aren't here."

"I would have come back for it."

"So then you'd owe Samantha another weekend?" Her voice gets low. "No thanks."

"It's not like that."

Alyssa presses her palms against the concrete. "What am I supposed to say--don't go see your friend who just tried to kill herself?"

"You could."

"I did." She turns away from me. "But we both knew you were going to run to her."

I run my hand through her hair. "You're much more important to me."

"Yeah, but I don't need you as much as she does. I mean, suicide attempts. How the hell am I supposed to compete with that?"

I scoot closer to her. "It's not a competition."

She brings her eyes to mine. "Isn't it?"

"No, Ally. No." I roll my shoulders back in a hopeless attempt to ease the tension in my neck. "If you tell me you need me, I'll be there. No matter what."

There's something in her eyes, but I can't place it. She looks back to the pool and kicks her feet in the water.

Her voice is a whisper. "I needed you."

"I'm here now. Tell me how I can help."

"I don't know."

I rub her shoulders. "We could do the food challenge again. I'll be your babysitter or your distracting human fuck toy."

She smirks. "Maybe." She makes circles with her legs. Tiny little circles. Then big ones. Then she kicks, sending water everywhere. "I'm sorry. I'm not good at this."

"What about this?"

"Being in a relationship."

I run my fingers over her wrist. "Yeah?"

She nods. "No one has ever really loved me. Ryan was the only person, and he... it wasn't the same. He did care about me, and he wanted to help me, but only if I could fit into my role."

"That must have been lonely."

"Yeah."

I slide my fingers over her thumb. "What about your mom?"

"She doesn't love anything except the bottle." Her voice is matter-of-fact. Like it's hopeless. Like she still can't believe someone could love her, really love her.

There's so much pain in her eyes. Whatever happens, I need to do something to take this pain away from her. I need to be the person she can count on.

I can't be MIA again. No matter what happens with Samantha.

"Do you want to talk about?" I ask.

She kicks the water. "I've had my guard up for so long. It's hard to let it down."

"Yeah."

"But I want to. I really do." She brings her head back to my shoulder.

I slide my arm around her waist and hold her as closely as I can. "I can be patient."

She nods, kicking the water again.

She wants to talk. She just needs a little encouragement.

I take a deep breath. "How did your eating disorder start?"

She chuckles. "You barely cringed at the words 'eating disorder.'"

"I don't like thinking of you in pain."

Alyssa moves her hands back to her dress. "I'm not going to comfort you if my fucked up past hurts your feelings." She crosses her arms over her chest, closing me out like I'm the enemy.

I run my fingers over her cheek and I tilt her head so she's facing me. "You can keep trying to scare me off, but it's not going to work."

She smirks and turns her gaze back to the pool. "Are you sure you want to hear about this?"

I nod. "I want to know everything about you, no matter how ugly you say it is."

She takes a deep breath, like she's considering it. Then she nods. "I had a lot of time alone in high school. I was lonely. Empty. I had a friend who bragged about her bulimia. She thought it made her cool and edgy. So I knew it was possible." She presses her hands against the edge of the pool. "I tried it once in high school. I made my mom a cake for her birthday, but she never come home. She was probably out drinking. I don't know. But it was just me and the cake. And I knew eating it would make me feel better. But I also knew I couldn't eat all that cake. I knew I needed to look a certain way if I wanted to be an actress."