It's been a month since my kiss with Christian. I often wake up from dreams where we're having hot and sweaty sex with each other. I wake up and groan. I just can't seem to get him off my mind.
President Clark hasn't sent me on any journeys since Whales. He did make his way over there to console the survivors and other families. It cast a really bright light on his polling numbers, and it was all my idea.
I sit in my living room with the T.V. playing. I write in my dance journal some ideas from a few songs I've recently heard. My thoughts get interrupted by a knock at my door. I walk over and pull the footstool over so I can see out of the peephole. I am shocked to see Christian on the other side.
I pinch myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming. It hurt, so I guess I really was awake. I run into the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror.
"Are you going to let me in? I know you're here, I can hear the television playing."
Crap. Okay. I walk to the door and open, slowly. Christian looks me up and down.
"Are you going to let me in?" He asks expectantly.
"Uh... maybe if you tell me what you're doing here?" I look at him again. I pinch my arm one more time just to be completely sure I wasn't dreaming.
"Well, if you'd bothered to answer any of my texts, emails, or phone calls." He pushes his way into my apartment. "Nice place." He says. He turns and looks at me. "Well? Why have you been ignoring me?"
"YOU. KISSED. ME!" I yell emphatically.
"Okay, I distinctly remember you kissing me back." He says with his hands on his hips. I sigh and sit back down on the couch. "Anyways... I'm here for a recording session. I've been trying to call you because I want you to be my choreographer."
"You're joking right?" I ask. "Do you not remember me trashing your music?" I look up at him. He tuts and sits down next to me. "Your music is offensive toward women."
"It's not MY music. It's the company I'm signed under, okay?" I just look at him. He sighs and rubs his hands on his temples. "Look at us, fighting like rightful siblings." He laughs.
"Fine." I state. "I'll do it... but I have a few conditions." He looks over at me with a concerned look. "No hooking up. No flirting with me. No objections to the choreography I choose. And no, absolutely no, kissing me."
"Well, then. I suppose it's a deal." He shakes my hand.
I met Christian and about ten other dancers at a filming studio and I showed them the first part of the dance. Christian really gets into it, but a few of the dancers seemed to struggle with the foot work. A few of the girls struggled with the floor work, and some guys turn outs looked sloppy. I could tell that this group needed a lot of work.
Over the next few weeks, we spent hours in the studio learning the choreography. After practice one night, Christian hangs back.
"Do you want to be in the video?" I turn to him, shocked. "It's just... you're the best dancer here, and I think a female lead dancer with me would look great with the song, and you know?" He rambles.
"Okay?" I say it like a question mark. "What do you have in mind?" He smiles widely at me.
For the next three days, Christian and I spent almost every waking minute together. If we weren't at the studio doing the choreography with the back-up dancers, we were at the studio going over our choreography that we worked on together.
After the music video gets shot, all the dancers whoop and cheer and fly out of the building because that meant they didn't have to spend all of their time inside these four walls. I set up my phone to the speaker and play a lyrical song. I danced to it for the first time in ages. In fact, I haven't danced like that since the Romeo and Juliet showcase. When I'm done dancing, I'm startled by a loud, slow clap getting closer behind me. Christian was watching me.
"That was beautiful." He smiles at me. "I've never seen anyone dance like that before. I could cry."
I scoff and brush it off. "Oh, please. You've seen me dance before."
"No. Not like that. You actually looked like you were dancing because you wanted to. Not for the purpose of dancing for others. It looked like you were enjoying yourself for once." I smile and thank him. I gather up my stuff and head out the door. Christian calls after me. "Can we go get some dinner?"
"I had conditions, remember?" I yell over my shoulder.
"The conditions were for when we were working on the music video. The music video is over." He raises his eyebrows. I open the passenger door for him. He smiles and jogs over to my car. "Thanks."
I look at him. "This doesn't change anything, I hope you know." I say to him before starting my car.
"Of course not. Just two siblings going out to dinner. People all over the world do that sort of thing." He chuckles.
I roll my eyes and take him to my favorite restaurant. Valencino's is the best, most authentic Italian food in all of D.C. I have been going here since I was a kid. It only felt right to let my new step-brother learn of this place. We get seated in a dimly lit booth. A few people recognized Christian and asked to get photos with him. He reluctantly agrees and smiles for photo after photo. I just sit and mull over the vast menu.
"Good evening, my name is-"
"ANTHONY?" I exclaim.
"April? Oh my god!"
I stand and give him a hug. "You remember Christian from the Romeo and Juliet showcase?"
He nods and extends a hand. Christian shakes it. "Wait... are you two together?" He asks in a sultry tone.
"No. He's actually my step-brother now." Anthony squeals with delight. "You should join us!"
Anthony and Christian agree, and after he takes our order, he sits down with us. We sit at the table and catch up. Before we know it, it is well after midnight and the restaurant is closing down. We all head out to my car.
"So, are you doing well with your sobriety?" Anthony asks, timidly.
"Yes." Christian looks shocked, but tries not to make a face. "Been sober for almost four years."
"That's amazing, hon. I am so proud of you." He pulls me into a hug.
We all say our goodbyes and Christian and I sit in the car in awkward silence.
"So... You're sober?" I nod. "What, um, what happened?"
I let out a long breath. "After Trevor died, I kind of drifted. I actually don't remember a lot of my time after he died. I remember bits and pieces, but I was just in such a dark place, it was like I couldn't make any connections. I remember my best friend's wedding, I remember a few parties I went to. I became dependent on alcohol. Then, when alcohol didn't seem to do its job anymore, I tried weed. I was pretty much high all through the rest of my junior year of college. And then I went to some pharm party an acquaintance threw, which that's P H A R M like pharmacy party, and they had this bowl of random pills going around. I decided why the hell not? Then that's when my pill addiction started. On the Halloween after Trevor died, I was drinking and taking pills, and I ended up overdosing. I had to have my stomach pumped. The doctors put me into a coma to diminish any kind of brain damage from the prolonged lack of oxygen to my brain. The doctors weren't sure if I would have any long-lasting brain damage or not. Thankfully, I didn't. I went to rehab for a little over three months, and stayed sober ever since. I went back to school, got my degree in Political Science and Foreign Journalism and I've been working at that and am one of the most successful journalists in all of D.C."
"Wow. That's uh-"
"Crazy, I know."
"No, I was going to say impressive." I give him a puzzled look. "If it were me, if my spouse died, I don't think I'd handle it very well either. And the fact that you realized you needed help and you went out there and you bettered yourself, then became as successful as you are. I mean, April, you're working for the President!"
"How did you-"
"Your phone is very loud. And you talked on the phone with him, not once, but twice in my presence. You're not that good at being clandestine, my dear sister."
We both laughed. We shared stories of drunken mistakes, and sober mistakes. We tell each other jokes and the things we've seen on our travels. We walked up to my apartment, still laughing. Someone across the hall yelled at us to quiet down. I open the door and we snicker at each other. My stomach hurts from all the laughter.
I sit my bag down on the coffee table in the middle of the living room and crash down on the couch. Christian walks over to my corner cabinet where a picture of Trevor and his American flag rests.
"I met him once, remember?" He turns to me and points at the picture.
"Yeah. Ha, he did NOT like you very much." I chuckle.
"No, but then again, not many people did like me in those days." I give him a puzzled look and he explains further. "You know how I told you my mother was in prison?" I nod. "Well, she's in prison here. In Virginia. She broke into a couple's home and they were killed. She broke in to try to steal some money and any liquor and pills they might have had. She called me from the detention center and told me she was innocent. Because she was my mother, I believed her. Then, it hit me one day that she was just using the mother angle to get a reduced sentence. It all happened right at the same time that Romeo and Juliet was going on. So, I was trying to not show that side of me and I came off as obnoxious and loud to everyone else." He walks over to the chair across from the couch and sits down. "That's why I find your story so admirable. Your reason for drifting the way you did at least makes sense. And you also had the self respect to change and get help. My mother... she never will." He runs his hands through his hair again.
I stand up and walk over to him. I kneel on the ground in front of him and take his hands in mine. "I'm sorry that she did that to you. All the things she's put you through, I couldn't imagine."
He looks down at me with tears rimming his eyes. He moves a loose piece of hair out of my face and tucks it behind my hair. My heart hammers in my chest. His hand lingers on my collarbone. He softly, slowly, moves his hand down my arm. Then he holds my hand in his. His gaze stays on our hands, then he lifts his gaze to meet mine. The next thing I know, his lips are on mine. I try to object, but my entire body gives in. He stands me up and pushes me back to the couch. I land on my back and climbs over top of me. He kisses me again, hungrily. I can feel the echo of his tears against my cheek. I can feel the pain easing in his heart as he trades one emotion for another.
I sink into the kiss, running my hands through his hair. He pulls his shirt off, and I do the same. He stops, out of breath. "Are you sure?" He asks. I nod. Not knowing what my body is doing, like it has a mind of its own. It feels like I'm not in control of anything, and the truth is, I like it.