DYLAN.
Did I receive that thank you kiss? Nice try. I got a blushing fiesta delivered by Kiera, her weirdest laugh and a "See you in the morning."
End of story. What? Not end of story. Was I okay? I gruntled as I rolled over in my bed, left alone to mourn my bad luck in peace. Had she risen to the dare and graced me with her undoubtedly soft pink lips of perfection, could I have kissed her back? I felt like the biggest douchebag of the millennium, the nerd who has to wear glasses just because he's a nerd. The brash bold bad boy that assumes up high in his low, slow, senseless head, that the only way to win his girl is to bully her to hell, Hades and extra hundred feet under.
Then she can fulfill her cliche roles as she falls hopelessly at his feet. His to have. His to hold. He'd use her up, but would not dare lend her to anyone else. I choked on my next breath colliding with the stupid, stupid literary archetypes.
I was so restless that I counted my fingers. So not sane that they appeared six in number. Perhaps a glass of wine would do wonders for easing this nonsense. As I ascended to my bedroom, bottle of wine in one hand and a tumbler in the other, muffled shrieks rebounded from the room beside mine.
Kiera.
I picked up my pace, taking three stairs at once, my heart machine whizzing at industrial speed thudding and pounding my chest. What was happening?
I had no time to guess the answers.
Her screams ripped off her throat in whiny batches; she yelled repeatedly, interrupted by heavy sobbing. Monotone, long-drawn and heart-rending. Evidently, the door was unlocked, a fact that made me frown disapprovingly but also fortunate to gain access to her.
Kiera flailed her arms in no particular order. Her eyes were tightly shut but hot tears streamed from them as she rolled from one side of the bed to the other, crying, "I won't disobey you again Nick! I swear I'll let you fuck me whenever you want! I'll give you all my money, all of it!"
She banged her head on the bed, curled up then uncurled over and again, shuddering and panting heavily, properly soaked in moist sweat dampening her brunet hair that hung limp, obscuring her face.
"Wake up," I whispered as I grabbed her bodily. Squirming, twisting earthworm-like, she wrestled within my hold, violently crying.
At last the poor girl awoke with a start. She glanced around, not focusing on anything as she pressed her lips together, making them all but disappear. Her nostrils flared. Breathing grew laboured, face was pasty white. She scratched at my arms until the skin nearly broke and bled.
"Kiera!" I shouted. "Please calm down. Nick isn't here. It's me, Dylan."
I almost cried, watching her. Who was Nick? How much hurt had he inflicted on her? She wept rivers when I carried her in bridal style to my room, for fear of something worse happening if I left her alone once again. That night, she slept in my bed, under my watchful eye.
As I made to leave, intending to crash on one of the couches in the living room, she murmured, "I'm scared."
It broke my heart. Quietly, I lay supine on my side of the bed, listening intently to her breathe. She turned on her side and snuggled up to me.
I had never known myself to be this comfortable with a woman freaking out. Whenever Joanne had a bad period, I would lose my temper and deliberately avoid her getting near me throughout the duration. I pushed her away when she was in deep sorrow because I couldn't stand her irritating tears. But, having Kiera dreaming in my arms, I realized that she was changing me fast. Not by ice cream sundaes or candlelit dinners in a high profile restaurant. Those were happy memories of laughter and joy, while all she had was darkness. But it was different nevertheless. I loved her darkness. Every time she went through it, I knew I would always be right there. For her.
**
When I had downed two coffees in the morning, I mustered sufficient courage to invite Kiera to go out with me -- to the movie set. She said no at first. With her back turned on me.
"What if I told you Ramses will be acting in the scenes to be shot today?" I spied on her instantly reverting, her face aglow.
"If you want to stay at home and suck all day, I totally understand. Hey, I'll just get some popcorn on my way home and we might have a movie night. You get it."
"Are you for real? The Ramses Keith? As in, my celebrity crush of all time? Come on, let's go. I can't miss the chance to meet my one and only crush in person. Do you think he'll like me?"
She didn't pause for me to chip in my two cents.
"Oh no, I look too cheap. I should go change. I'm gonna brush up this face in a bit. There are earrings in that room upstairs, right? Damn, tell me you at least have a lip gloss in this house."
Kiera pouted.
I knew she would be too excited, too disoriented. As much as loved her fuss, I wished I could become the movie star for only that day, then I could be the sole reason behind her starlit smile.
"You would easily be the most beautiful woman on the set," I took in the light blue summer dress she was wearing, stopping above her knees while it gladly exposed the fair smooth skin she'd been hiding in her pyjamas. Most of her bruises had healed. Even so, the scars ran up her thighs__ long, brown and ugly.
Why wasn't she making any effort to conceal them? Currently avoiding my intentional gaze, she spoke through her silence, her body language narrating what her lips scorned to reveal.
**
The fifteen-minute drive to San Juan seemed trifling five minutes. I spotted Ramses tapping his phone furiously. The actors were on a break and he was probably chatting up his latest girlfriend whose name was yet to be spilled on the tabloids. Good for her.
"Hey Ra." I waved.
Kiera stood rooted to the spot, her jaw hung ajar as she fed her sights on the sexy vision of Ra's dark wavy hair cropped close to his forehead, electric blue eyes and strong jawline. He wore a diamond stud on his left ear while a gold chain dangled on his neck, as per his costume for that scene. Other actors, about four, had changed out of their costumes and were back in normal clothes.
"Hi guys," I called. "Meet Kiera."
Ra was the first to abandon his phone as he sauntered towards us.
"Yo," he grasped my hand in a fleeting handshake.
So apparently, she was too lost in admiring his looks to hear him say, "What's up Kiera? You're joining the cast, right? Although, I thought the director said that all the spots have been taken. Oh!" He gasped. "You're an extra! Bingo! Welcome to the sickest theatre in Puerto Rico."
"Actually," I put in, before the matter got out of hand, "I'd love to agree with you but, Kiera is just your biggest fan."
"Hi Ramses! I've watched all of your movies right from 2010. Sold To The Duke is my favourite of all time, followed by Loving Kate, and A Boyfriend For Christmas. I can't believe I'm finally meeting you in person _ I attended the Grammy Awards ceremony last year where I got to see you up close. I was standing right in front of the stage and you right there__ so close that I could touch you." She gushed excitedly.
"Aww, my heart," Ra murmured. "You're sweeter than... chocolate cake."
"Thanks. Oh, can we take pictures?" She eventually recalled that I existed, whipped her phone out of her purse, smiled cheesily as she dumped it in my open palm.
I took photos of Ra and her in different stylish poses she cooked up, as well as more pictures of her with the rest of the actors. After they had bonded, of course. It was during this photo craze that Ra suggested that his girlfriend, Kiera, himself and I, go on a double date.