Chapter 18 - Love, American Style...Or Something...

Tuesday, September 28th, 2004.
"'With all the multi-hyphen,' wait...what? 'talented celebrities such as P. Diddy & Jennifer Lopez trying their hand at fashion lines, is that something you are interested in doing?'" Ellie scratched a reference number into her notepad, waiting for JC's answer.
"No. I'm not that interested in clothes, really."
"There's not anything you would ever want on a t-shirt?"
"Is there anything you would want to put on a t-shirt?"
Ellie stopped and thought for a moment. "'Come down South with me.' But in a double entendre way."
"Are you coming onto me, Miss Argyle?"
A flush of rosiness flooded her cheeks. "No."

She flipped through her notepad to check her final questions. "OK, these are just some stupid questions we do at the end of every interview. We might use them in this column; we might use them in a Q and A collection thing. Firstly, 'What is the most useless piece of information you could tell me right now?'"
"Um..." He thought for a moment. "Uh...slinkies were invented by the government."
"Actually, they were invented by a naval engineer during the Second World War. He was trying to find a way to secure equipment on ships."
"How do you know that?"
"I read a lot, picking up useless crap here and there."
"OK, then." He shifted his weight in his seat. "What's the most useless piece of information you can tell me right now?"
"I don't know; the naval engineer one was rather useless." She jotted down his answer.  "OK, final question: What's the stupidest joke you know?"
"What's the stupidest joke you know?"
She smiled. "It's stupid."
He took his sunglasses off and leaned towards her. "That's the point."
She paused for a moment. "OK, what looks like poster tack, smells like poster tack, tastes like poster tack, but isn't poster tack?"
"I don't know, generic poster tack?"
She sat there with a smile of embarrassment. "Smurf poo."

He paused, snorting before breaking out in giggles.
"See, I told you it was stupid."
"It's...it's...not that." He tried to steady himself.
"I don't know what you're going on about. It's the lamest joke ever." She nervously readjusted her t-shirt.
He watched her as she compulsively smoothed down her clothes. Holy fuck, she's adorable, he thought, his phone buzzing in his pocket.
He checked the text. 'R U available 2nite? Shorty misses U xxx.'
Shit, he thought to himself. He typed out a response. 'I'm not sure, Eva.' He tucked away his phone, finding Ellie doing the same.
"Apparently, my next interview is going to be late."
"OK." He got out of his chair, placing his hand on her wrist. "Do you want to meet the director?"


Saturday, November 5th, 2005.
JC and Ellie sat on the wicker couch in Marianne's office, JC shifting his weight in an attempt to get more comfortable.
"Going through your questionnaires from our initial appointment," Marianne said as she sat in her chair across from them, "there are some good things there, a lot of shared values and what not. There're also some worrying things, though. I'm not going to bombard you with the heavy stuff now; we'll gradually work through those things in our own time.
"I need you to know that this isn't like treating a cold or something. I won't just give you a quick fix and then everything will be better. What I hope to do is help you develop the tools you need to have a long and happy relationship and marriage."
They both nodded their heads in agreement.
"What I want to do today is get a little more comfortable with each other, but I also want to us to find a positive place that we can go back to if things do start becoming hard for you. I want to know what attracted you to each other in the first place; Ellie?"
"Um...he has nice hair...I don't know."
"Was there anything about his personality?"
"I liked talking to him, I guess. He's very smart and funny, but not pretentiously so."
Marianne scribbled into a moleskine notebook. "What about you, JC?"
"She's adorable."
Ellie turned to look at him in confusion. "Um...OK?"
He picked at his fingernails. "What? I like you because you're cute."
"You don't think I'm smart or funny or a good person or something like that?"
"Well, yeah, all of those things. But the main reason why I like you is because you're cute."
"OK, then." Ellie sunk into her seat.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"Nothing." She picked at the sleeve of her sweater.
"Then why are you slouching?"
"I'm not slouching."
"You are, you've gone into a funk." He turned to Marianne. "She does this thing where even though I compliment her, I tell her she's cute, I tell her she's beautiful, I tell her she's got a nice ass, she always rejects them."
"I just don't agree with you, that's all."
He grunted in frustration. "It doesn't matter if you do. I'm saying those things because they're my opinion."
"Do I need to thank you every time you reduce me to a frivolous trait?"
He covered his eyes with his hand. "Oh, God."
She sat up. "I don't just want to be just those things to you. I want to be more than just cute with a nice ass—"
"You can be both! You can be intelligent and professionally accomplished and have a nice ass! The two isn't mutually exclusive."
"Aren't! The two aren't mutually exclusive!"
He turned to Marianne. "This is our problem: she has a really shit temper. If you can fix that, we could last forever."

JC and Ellie walked back out to the street after their counselling appointment. "Do you want to go to that place on 42nd Street, the soul kitchen place?"
JC put his hands into his overcoat pockets. "Yeah, might as well."

Ellie tucked her purple scarf into her coat as he hailed a cab. They walked into the diner and sat at their usual booth. She placed her purse beside her, sitting with one leg underneath her butt. "Someone left a copy of Bullshit Weekly." She placed the tabloid in front of her and gazed over the cover. "’Eva and Tony's Romantic Getaway.’"
"Don't read that shit."
"Why not? Most of it's either lies or planted stories by publicists." She flipped through the magazine and started reading the copy aloud. "Devious Housewives star Eva Bitchface and Spurs Player Tony Whatshisface spent a weekend at the luxurious Pearl Sands Resort in Hawaii, catching waves and being loved up. They enjoyed the sand, surf, and sunsets as they hiked and whale watched. Eva looked stunning all weekend as she showed of her hot bod in designer bikinis and down-to-earth sundresses. You can take the girl outta Texas, but you can't take Texas out of the girl." Ellie looked at the pictures, commenting, "I don't know how things are in Texas, but I wouldn't call a $500 sundress down to Earth...Do you think she knows that the surgeon put her boobs in too far apart?"

He leaned over the table. "No, as far as I know, she loves them."
"Were they really that great? Like, sexiest woman alive great?"
"I don't know; sexiness is subjective."
"Is she sexier than me?"
"I'm not answering that question."
"Fine. Am I sexier than her?" She leaned back into the booth.
"Now that I know what you're capable of, sometimes."
"What do you mean?"
"No one can be sexy all the time. Anyway, I'm not with you because you're sexy; I like you because you're cute."
"Like in a 'not pretty enough' cute, or a 'fluffy bunny' cute?"
"In an 'adorable personality' cute. You're very pretty."
"I'm not pretty."
"You're stunningly beautiful."
"No, I'm not. I'm an 'adorable personality' kind of gal." She leaned her head into her hand as she flipped through the pages. "I hate this shit." She placed the magazine back where she found it with disgust.

Thursday, February 17th, 2005.
Ellie leaped out of her chair as her cubicle phone rang. "Hello, this is Elizabeth Argyle for Clefnotes Magazine: Style section. How may I help you?"
"Hey, I'm in town. Want to get something to eat?"
"Um, JC...I, I get off...I mean...my lunch break is in a quarter of an hour. How close are you to Central Park?"
"My hotel's on Vanderbilt Avenue. I don't know how far that is from where you are."
"Oh! You're only a few blocks away. My office is on 52nd Street. I know this place right near Grand Central Station. Do you think you'll be able to get down to 42nd Street?"
"Possibly..."

They sat across from each other, awkwardly fiddling with the tableware. Ellie tore apart a breadstick. "You know, I don't know if it's just me, but I like it when breadsticks actually feel like bread, not just long crackers." She made a measuring gesture with her two pointer fingers, smiling awkwardly as she chewed her mouthful.
"I don't really care either way." JC readjusted his sweater for the eighty-ninth time. "You say the chicken and dumplings soup is good here?"
"Yeah, it's what I usually get. It's just a chicken noodle thing with dumplings instead of the noodles. It has a great broth, though."
"Mm..." He nodded his head.

She readjusted herself as his cellphone started to ring. He checked it, silenced it, then put it back into his pocket.
"Who's Eva?"
"Just a record executive. I'll get back to her later."
"OK..." She looked around the cafe, trying to find a reason to break the silence. "How did you spend Valentine's?"
"I spent it at home alone. For some reason, I had the most intense hangover."
She perked right up as she saw that he was trying to make a joke. "Oh my God! So did I. I flew from L.A. to New York, then I picked up my cat from my boss's place, then I spent the rest of the day home alone."
"Did your arms hurt?"
"What?"
"Did your arms hurt? When you flew from..." He trailed off in embarrassment.
She pursed her lips in an amused smile. "You're lucky I've already put out."

They walked back into the street just after 1pm. He adjusted the beanie on his head as she wrapped her scarf around her neck. Unknowingly, they shared the same feeling in the pits of their stomachs of not wanting to end their date.
"Sooo..." She turned to face him. "What was this?"
"What was it to you?"
"If you're thinking of it in a more casual sense, it was a nice lunch, but if you're thinking about it in a more, um, serious way...it's the best date I've had for awhile." She looked up at him, his small smile spreading out into a grin. "Shit."
His face fell. "What?"
"I've got fucking butterflies...I really like you. You're really cute, you know."

He took her hands into his. She was surprised by their clamminess despite the cold. She gave off a long exhale as he stepped closer to her.
"When do you have to be back at your office?"
"I don't know. We go to print tomorrow, but—" She tightened her body as he kissed her, feeling her knees go weak. "I should really be getting back now," she mumbled. She tried to steady herself, leaning into his chest, stepping back as she realised what she was doing.
"My hotel's not that far; we'll be done within the hour."
She quickly rummaged through her purse for a pen and a piece of paper. "This is my address. I should be off work by 7pm. Um..."
He leaned back in, his lips hovering above hers.
"Please don't kiss me again." She whispered, "I'll never be able to leave if you do."
"But, that's what I want." He grazed his lips across hers. "One last kiss."

She parted her mouth slightly as he waited for her to kiss him. She stood up on tiptoe and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her lips to his, his tongue lightly touching hers. "Fuck," she murmured as he let her go, smiling and waving as he walked off.
"See you tonight."
"Um...yeah. Bye." She turned and started off in the opposite direction to him, trying her hardest to compose herself. She only realised when she was halfway back to her office that she was holding his beanie.

Thursday, November 10th, 2005.
Ellie slowly opened the door to find JC sitting by the window reading. She placed her bag and coat down carefully and crept behind him trying not to make a peep. Quickly, she pulled his knitted cap over his eyes. "Guess who?"
"Vladimir the Impaler?"
"Nope." She folded the seam upwards. "Hey."
"Hey. How was work?"
"Good. We're starting to look at the options for stories for our January issue."
"Cool; anything interesting?"
She leaned forward onto the back of the chair, her face hovering above his. "Not really. Maurice is looking into if there's anything to cover in relation to the American Music Awards. Maybe look into the new wave of teen pop stars or something."
"Do you think you're going to be asked to cover it? I mean, do the article."
"Possibly, why?"
"I've been asked if I want to present something. If you have to be in L.A., we could go together. Well, I could take you."
"I won't need that. It'll probably just be an interview of one of the performers beforehand."
"You could still come with me." He guided her hand around the chair until she was sitting in his lap. "Like, as my date."
"I'm not really sure...I don't know if I'm ready for the whole red carpet thing."

He pulled her legs up. "You're not really a celebrity; no one's really going to care if you're there or not."
"Then why do I have to go at all? Why can't I just stay home?"
"I want you there."
"What if I don't want to go? I mean, I've hardly got anything to wear."
"We could get you a dress, a little jewellery. Isaac could do your hair and makeup."
"I don't know. What if Eva's there? Doesn't she go to events like that?"
"Eva would go to an opening of a car door if she knew her picture was going to be in Peephole magazine. It doesn't matter if she's there; I just want you there with me."

She shifted her weight, pulling her sweater down. She buried her head into his shoulder. "I'm not as pretty as she."
"No one cares."
"I do. What about my weirdness? They're going to pick up on that."
"Just stay close to me. If we appear affectionate, they'll just assume it's because we're in love."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, they interpret any contact as 'being in love'. They said we were dating when I dropped you off at the hotel."
"Can I at least think about it?"
"OK, I'm not pressuring you. I would just like it if you came with me, as my date, not just as a member of my crew."
"I don't even know why you would want me to go. It's not like there are benefits of me going. Just let me stay at home."
"I want to show you off."
She got up from the chair and walked over to the kitchen cupboard to feed Linus. "No, you don't. You think you do, but you don't."
He followed her over, leaning on the kitchen bench. "But I do. What's wrong?"

She stood back up from placing Linus's bowl onto the floor, sighing heavily. "She said something about you, about us."
"Who?"
"Eva."
He turned to face her. "OK then, what did she say?"
"She was on some talk show. She said something like when you're dating someone, you don't really realise how much of a downgrade they are until you see who they date after you. Like seeing your ex with someone who's not on your level really makes you thank God that you dodged a bullet there."
"Is that why you've been all weird and insecure these past few days?"
"Honey, I'm weird and insecure all the fucking time. It's my default setting."
"What's the problem you're having with what she said?"
She watched as he repositioned himself on the counter, a look of dismay on his face. "I don't know why you're not bothered by it."
"I just don't care, OK. I don't give a shit what she thinks anymore. If she wants to go on every talk show implying that we're beneath her, then that's her problem, not ours. Our role in this is to rise above it and ignore her."
"Well, what if I can't do that?"
"You're fucking Southern. By your accounts, you out of all people should be able to handle this kind of shit," he said as his tone started to become more irritated. "Ugh, I hate this. I feel like we can't even fight anymore."
She rolled her eyes. "Don't avoid the subject."
"FINE! What the fuck is wrong? Just ask me what you want to know and I'll answer it, OK?"
"Is she better than me?"
"No."
"Why?"
"What part of 'she didn't love me back' don't you understand, huh? I put myself on the line for her and she just saw it as a joke." He walked around the living area, collapsing onto the couch. "I tried to be romantic, I tried to be sweet, and it wasn't enough. 'Baby, why can't you just buy me nice things. What am I supposed to do with poetry?' To make it worse, the very moment she has to sell this sex kitten persona or impress Tony, she starts talking shit like I wasn't good enough, like I wasn't a real man or whatever...I'm just exhausted by all of her bullshit."

Ellie stood silent for a moment, trying to find a reason to change the subject. "I thought you didn't like the romance thing?"
"No, I'm only cutting back on it ‘cause you don't like it."
"What?"
"You said that you don't like it. That you don't trust big romantic gestures."
"If someone used them on you the way Miles did on me, you wouldn't either."
"But that's it. I don't want to use them the way he did. I want to make you stuff, I want to write you corny poetry and paint for you. But because of this whole shit, I feel like I shouldn't even bother."
"Wait...you want to paint for me? When do you have time to paint?"

He left the room, walking into the office. After a few moments of moving things around, he reentered the room holding a canvas. He forcefully placed it on the table in front of her.
"Oh, God..." She covered her mouth in shock as she stepped closer to study it. The canvas showed her in profile, painted in watercolour, cream making up her skin tone, golden tan for the loose curls falling from her bun, light blue for her eyes and rose pink for her lips. The outline was drawn over it in black ink.

"So...what do you think?" he asked, tensely.
"I don't know what to say...It's impressionist inspired, isn't it?"
"You think it's shit."
"No...I...I just never thought you saw me that way."
"What way? Like you're beautiful? I've told you every day for the last nine months that you're beautiful."
"Can we hang it up?"
"Where?"
"We'll find a place." She outstretched her arms to him. "Come here."

She took him into her arms, making a contented squeak as he held her. She stood on tiptoe to kiss his forehead. "Is that the only one?"
"There's a few more, mainly sketches."
She looked up at him. "Nothing dirty?"
"No, I wouldn't do that."
"This is probably one of the best things anyone's ever done for me. When did you start, drawing me, I mean?"

Thursday, February 24th, 2005.
JC carefully drew the curve of Ellie's nose onto the sketch he was doing of her lying beside him on the couch, resting her head on his stomach as she read. She raised her knees as she repositioned her legs, turning them the other way.
"I was wondering, do you ever feel like you're taking a warm nap when you're with someone?" JC asked as he spiralled a loose strand of hair onto the pad.
"What?" She turned to look at him in confusion.
"Like, you know the feeling that you get when you take an afternoon nap on a cold day, when you're all snuggled up in your blankets all safe and stuff. Do you ever feel like that when you're with a person?"
"I don't know, why?"
"I don't know, just asking. I want to get to know you a little better."
"What's there to know? You already know that my name's Elizabeth, but I prefer to go by Ellie. I'm from Baton Rouge. My mom studs racehorses and my dad shares his time between the ranch and my granny's diner. I went to LSU and studied journalism. I was a Girl Scout and I only went to camp once when I was eleven, but I came home early because of a bee sting. I like to read and I have a cat named Linus. I'm not some complicated puzzle you need to solve."
"I think you are."
"I'm not, OK." She grunted as she sat up. "It's not a compliment to say that a girl is like that."
"I'm not saying that. I'm just saying that you seem like you're...I don't know, guarded, I guess, and I want to know what you're protecting."
"I'm not protecting anything." She laid back down.
"OK, so why are you so touchy about certain things?"
"I'm not. I'm being very upfront with you."

He paused, watching her as she went back to her book. "What do I need to do to make you fall for me?"
"I'm not falling for you."
"Do you even care about me?"
"I don't know." She stared onto the page, focusing on the same word as she avoided eye contact with him.
"What's the most romantic thing anyone's ever done for you?"
"I don't like romantic gestures. I can't help but think a guy's always hiding behind them. 'Oh, you brought home a bouquet of roses? What did you do? Who did you fuck?'"
"OK, so if you're not interested in a relationship, why are you here?"
"Because it's cheaper than a hotel..." She paused.
"And..?"
"And what?"
"Why else are you here?" He started tickling her.
"Stop it!" she squealed.
"Admit it then."
She laid on top of him, until her nose was lightly touching his. "Admit what?"
"That I'm the best lover you've had in awhile."
"No. You're the best fuck I've had in awhile, but we haven't made love, so we're not lovers yet."
"I don't know what you classify as lovemaking, but I've made love to you."
"When?"
"Last night. Also on the seventeenth; I made love to you then."
"How can you even tell the difference?"
"You just can, you know? It's how you feel about that person."
"Well, then, I've never felt that way."
"I think you're lying."
"No, I'm not."
"OK, so if you don't feel that way about me, you'll be OK with it if you can never kiss me again."
"I'm fine with that."
"OK, then..." He went quiet, lightly brushing his nose to hers as she stared down at him. "I dare you to not to kiss me."
"What do I get if I win?"
"I'll fuck your brains out, but you can't address me, look at me or kiss me. If I win, I get to make love to you again...slowly."

He waited as she tried to put as much distance between them. She slowly drew closer to him as she tried to fight the growing ball of anticipation in her gut until she was as near to him as she could be without their lips touching. She slowly let out a long breath, coming to terms with her defeat.
"Goddamn it," she mumbled as she placed her lips onto his, shivering as he placed his hand on her neck, moaning as his lips caressed hers. She used her thumb to open his mouth wider as she pressed her mouth to his, running her tongue along his. She bit his lip as she withdrew, whispering, "Fuck..."
"Is that a statement, or a request?"

Monday, November 21st, 2005.

Jules made his way up to the master bedroom, carefully balancing a black garment bag on his arm. "I've got it. It took me awhile find one available in Ellie's size; I had to drive halfway across the city, but I found it." He hung up the bag and unzipped it, carefully removing a mid-length strapless dress made of black silk and chiffon.
"You didn't need to go to all of that trouble," Ellie said as Isaac slowly brushed out a curl of hair. "I would've been OK wearing anything."
"No, it needs to be this dress. It matches your form and temperament perfectly. It's Chanel, and I will not hear another word of objection." He started to rearrange the pants, shirt and jacket laid out for JC on the bed. "It is your red carpet debut, you need to look your best. Did you two do everything I asked you to?"
"Yep," Isaac replied as he started to pin back Ellie's curls into a half up, half down do, "manicure, pedicure: dark red, spray tan, an ungodly amount of makeup and makeup brushes, the right lingerie: black lace corset thing and matching..." He awkwardly trailed off.
"Panties," Ellie interjected.
"Ugh, I hate that word. Why do you think it's sexy?"
"’Cause it's kind of fancy and dirty at the same time."
"OK, OK, that's great, but did you get the shoes?" Jules asked.
Isaac motioned over to the black shopping bag at the foot of the bed. "Yep, the black Louboutins. They're by the bed."

Jules carefully lifted the plain brown box out of the bag. He excitedly took in a deep breath before he lifted the lid, exhaling in delight as he opened the paper to reveal the red fabric bag. He squealed as he delicately lifted the right shoe out and turned it around to look at the details. He caressed the stitching, the black patent leather straps on the toe and ankle, the stamping on the insoles and the blood red sole.
"I want to worship this shoe as my God," he proclaimed as he held the stiletto up like a relic. "This, this, is why I became a stylist." He pointed over to Ellie. "Promise me that you'll never leave me. JC never wears anything this fancy."

Isaac removed the towel from Ellie's shoulders. "I think I'm done. I'll need to retouch your lipstick, but you're good to go."
Ellie turned around to look at his handiwork. She angled her head around, lifting her eyebrows to see the delicate cat-eye of liquid liner and gradient of charcoal and silver eyeshadow. "I look like Britney Spears."
"Is that a good thing?" Isaac inquired. "I don't have time to change it."
"No, it's good." She batted her fake eyelashes. "Thank you."

Jules checked the clock on his phone. "We need be there within the hour. You'll be OK getting dressed on your own, right?"
"Yeah. JC still needs to get changed, so if I need help, I can just ask him," Ellie said as she collected the items she needed from around the room.
Isaac and Jules looked at each other apprehensively. "Are you sure?" Isaac asked, a hesitant look on his face.
"Yeah...if I trust him with my clothes, why wouldn't I trust him with this?"
"But that's different," Jules tried to point out.
She sighed. "He's not going to ruin the dress. I'll make sure he won't. There's only one way I can think of him ruining it, and I won't let him do that, OK?"
Isaac reeled his head back in disgust. "Eww..."
"Just go!" Ellie demanded before she took everything into the closet.

The two men slipped out of the room, gently closing the door behind them.
Isaac grabbed Jules's arm before he was able to make his way down the stairs. "Why are you so insistent on Ellie wearing that dress?" he whispered.
"I know for a fact that Eva is wearing this exact same dress tonight. She's going to be fucking pissed if Ellie shows up in it."
"You bitch."
"I know."
"Do you really think Ellie’s going to be able to deal with the confrontation?"
"If she can knock Justin down, she can take on Eva," Jules said as he stepped aside, letting Isaac down the stairs before him.
Isaac turned back to look at him with distaste. "I hope you know what you're doing."

"You OK in there?" JC asked as he changed into what was laid out on the bed for him.
"Yeah." Ellie stepped out of the wardrobe putting in the last of her diamond earrings. She turned to look in the mirror of the dresser and carefully smoothed down the skirt of the dress. "What do you think?" she asked as she turned to him. "It's my first time wearing Chanel."
He turned to look at her as he was putting on his jacket, stopping in shock. "Fuck..."
She stood uncomfortably as silence started to build between them. "Sooo...is dressing like this the only way I can guarantee that will shut you up? ‘Cause that's gonna get impractical."
"You look really nice."
She smiled. "Thanks."

He walked over to her and wrapped his arms around her waist.
"How can I kiss you without ruining my lipstick?"
"Like this." He softly kissed her, his chest expanding as he took all of her in; her taste, her smell, her touch and the sound of the small moan she gave off. He opened his eyes to find her opening hers. "You're going to kill me if you keep taking my breath away like that."
She snickered as she snuggled into him before realising how much makeup she was wearing, checking whether or not she had left a mark on his shirt. She looked up at him. "You know, I'm still me under all of this."
"I know. Just like I'm still me under all of this," he reassured her.

He kissed her lightly before he went into the closet, taking a small black box out of his sock drawer. "I got something...borrowed something for you."
"I'm starting to think that if I ever want to snoop for my presents, I should just check your sock drawer."
"You're not going to find all of them in my sock drawer."
"Only the ones small enough to hide in there." She opened the small black box. Inside was an antique diamond ring: a round cut stone of decent size in a halo setting of platinum and a ring of smaller diamonds.
“It’s from the thirties,” he explained. “I only rented it for the night, but if you want to own it, I’d be happy buying it for you."
She instinctively tried the ring on her left ring finger first, comfortably sliding it next to her engagement ring. "It fits perfectly."
"Do you like it?"
She nodded. "It's beautiful."
"Like you."
"Why?"
"When I chose your ring, I wasn't sure you were going to say yes, so I got you something small. Now it's been awhile, I'm starting to regret getting you one so small. I know this one isn't that much bigger, it's not as big as I could go, but I still want you to have something a little more special."
"You already bought it, didn't you?"
"Yeah, I was going to return it if you didn't like it."
"I'll only wear it for tonight, since you gave it to me tonight. But if I'm comfortable with wearing it, if it doesn't feel too impractical, I'll take it as a wedding ring. OK?"
"Yeah, now you just have to find mine."
"I already have yours. I might need to get it resized, though." She lifted his hand by one of his fingers. "I did not anticipate you having such large hands."
"All the better to..." He trailed off, forgetting the line from the fairy tale, mentally inserting his own dirtier ending.
"Hug you with?"
"Yeah...that too."

Later that night, Ellie stood in front of a mirror in the ladies bathroom at an after-party. A petite, black-haired woman entered as she was starting to touch up her lipstick.
"What...the...FUCK?!"
"Excuse me?"
Eva carelessly checked the back of the dress for the tag. "Chanel...I fucking knew it. Do you think this is some kind of sick game?"
Ellie groaned as she realised, through the reflection in the mirror, that she was wearing the same dress as Eva. She went back to reapplying her lipstick. "I'm sorry, am I supposed to know you?"
"You know exactly who the fuck I am!"
Ellie turned to face Eva. She calmly put her lipstick back into her purse and zipped it up. "I'm sorry, I don't think we've been introduced yet."

Eva cocked her jaw as she tried to stand in a defiant pose. Unfortunately, Ellie was still four inches taller than her despite the shoes they were wearing. "Did he put you up to this? Pathetic prick can't even get over me. You know, I thought he was better than that. I guess I was wrong."
Ellie rolled her eyes before she stepped aside to exit the bathroom.
"Cunt," Eva whispered as Ellie passed her.
"A cunt who sucks cock better than you can. Trick is, you actually have to suck it, not just put it into your mouth once." Ellie swiftly opened the bathroom door, making sure it would slam as she exited the room.

JC leaned over the bar as he waited for the bartender to serve him. Eva stormed up next to him. "Do you know what that bitch of yours just said to me?!"
He groaned. "What?"
"That bitch you're fucking; she just confronted me in the bathroom."
"Oh! You mean my fiancée?" JC said in feigned surprise.
"Yes, she just insulted me in the bathroom."
"That's weird, ‘cause she avoids confrontation mostly...unless you provoked her."
"I provoked her?! Why would I do that?!"
JC tapped a coaster on the bar. "You're wearing the exact same dress."
"Oh really? Because I didn't fucking notice that," she snapped in sarcasm, "She did it intentionally, didn't she? Got one of her style section buddies to snoop out the info?"
"My stylist picked it out for her, unsurprisingly enough."
"What does that mean?"
"You know exactly what that means, Eva. He introduced us; he was your friend first."

He straightened himself. "Look, I don't fucking care anymore. I don't care about any of your shit and I'm not waiting for you to come back to me."
"You would like that, wouldn't you?"
"No, I wouldn't. I made my choice; it wasn't you."
He stepped close to her as he used to, as close as he ever would be again. He looked at the face he once loved, forgetting the beauty that was once in her sharp features or the glow in her chocolate brown eyes. "She loves me. That's all I ever wanted. I'm sorry things didn't turn out the way we wanted them to." He started to walk away from her, never turning back as she angrily called out to him as he became lost in the party.

JC sat on the edge of the bathtub as he carefully inspected the back of the dress for any damage. "I'm not one hundred percent sure, but she may have snagged the fabric."
"What are you going to do about it?" Ellie asked as she carefully tried to remove her fake eyelashes.
"If I need to pay for anything, I'll try to get her people to reimburse it."
"What about Jules? You need to enforce disciplinary action to show that what he did wasn't OK...Ow!" Ellie looked at the eyelash in her fingers, trying to count how many of her own eyelashes she had pulled out.
"I could take the rental price from his wages, or charge him for the damage. Worst case scenario, I could fire him."
"Would you do that?"
"I don't know. I don't want to be that guy, but I also refuse to tolerate that kind of shit." He took his glasses off. "What would you do?"
She put a few droplets of makeup remover onto a cotton pad. "Fire him. I just can't see that kind of behaviour being OK in any workplace. I wouldn't be comfortable having it in mine."
"The industry's different. People here feed off that shit."
"That doesn't make it right." She tied her hair up and started to lather face wash onto her cheeks. "I've never worked in your industry, but I've never worked anywhere where that kind of behaviour is OK. Sam and Maurice wouldn't put up with it. Grandma Jean certainly would never put up with it."
He stood up and went back into the bedroom, hanging the dress back up. "I don't know. I'll talk to Eric about it before we fly out tomorrow."

She rinsed her face, patted it dry and applied toner and moisturiser. She changed from her lingerie into a pair of oversized underpants and a large LSU t-shirt. She crawled into bed next to him and snuggled into his chest, grunting as she curled into her comfy spot.
"Did she approach you in the bathroom?" he asked.

"Eva?"
"Yeah. She said that you confronted her."
"Well, she confronted me, but I didn't really do anything to diffuse the situation."
"What did you do?" he asked as she turned her head to look up at him.
"I said that to be good at sucking cock, you need to actually suck cock."
He tried to stop himself from laughing. "You shouldn't have said that."
"I don't think either of us are in the right, frankly.”

She crawled on top of him. "Am I a bad person?"
"I don't know, I don't think anyone is one or the other. I think we're all in between."
"You said that I have a shit temper."
"We both have shit tempers. You were just getting on my nerves then."
"Don't be like that."
"Like what?"
"Like that...I don't know."
"What's wrong?" He ran his fingers through her softening curls.
"We're not going to last. When something bad happens to us—"
"Nothing bad has happened to us."
"OK, then. When we fight or get upset or whatever, I just feel like it's just another sign that we're not meant to be together, and I hate it. I love you, I've never loved anyone the way I love you and it's amazing and beautiful, but it's also scary and...and it's just gotten to a point where I would rather not exist than not be with you anymore and I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing." She sniffed back her tears.
"It just means that you're in love. Are we still pretending that this is your first time being in love?"
"No." She flared her nostrils.
"Then say it. Say that you were in love with Miles so you let him fuck you up and now you're scared to feel the same way ‘cause you're scared I'm going to do the same."
"I don't want to. I don't want to admit I was ever in love with that cretin."
"OK, then. What was the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for you? You don't need to say who it was, just tell me what it was."
"What was the most romantic thing anyone's ever done for you?"
"Bought me a piano for my birthday. Don't deflect the question."

She shifted uncomfortably, wondering whether or not she should tell him. "The first Valentine’s we spent together, '96 it would've been, he taped a note on my locker, telling me to look in the gym. In there he put rose where I was sitting when we got together on prom night. Attached was a card telling me to go to the table we sat at the Monday after for lunch. He had basically set up a scavenger hunt where he put seventeen roses at all of the places he thought were important to us, the library where we would hang out and study, the coffee shop we would go to everyday after school, the bookstore where he bought my first Christmas present. Finally at the movie theatre where we had had our last date, instead of leaving an eighteenth rose, he left a map of Baton Rouge with a red love heart in red marker around our spot, where we would go to have sex under the willow trees by the river. I drove down there to find him underneath our tree holding this pink Valentine’s bear, this incredibly cheap thing that I guess was the only thing he could afford after buying seventeen roses and a road map. That's where he told me he loved me for the first time.
“After the roses died, I kept everything. I slept with that bear every night until we broke up, even when I knew he was with another girl. I even took it up to New York with me at first, brought it back home because, you know, you just take those things with you when you travelling. Four years, five months and three nights I slept with that bear. Five years, two months and four days I put up with his shit, the cheating, the cheap engagement ring, everything and all I got was some secondhand records, a pile of ashes and 40 ounces of cheap malt liquor. Oh, and that one time he gave me mono. I burnt everything. I loved him and he just broke my heart. I know that I have to forgive him, to find salvation, but I just can't admit that I let him do that."

He lay with her, listening as her breathing calmed down, softly stroking her neck with his fingertips. "I don't know what to say."
"Just don't treat me like that. Don't treat me like I'm stupid, that I don't know what you're doing. If you do anything, I'll find out, OK. Don't keep lying to me, tearing me down so you can build me back up. Don't ever tell me that no one will love me like you do. Don't be like him, don't love me like he did."
"I'm not going to. I promise."
"That's the point."

Saturday, March 26th, 2005.
A young brunette couple in their late twenties strolled through Central Park. Every now and then they kissed each other during their conversation. They would occasionally stop to take in small details of the park. They stopped at the middle of a bridge, looking down at the water as a duck swam by with her ducklings.
“Just in time for Easter. New life,” Ellie commented.
JC kissed her temple as he wrapped his arm around her. They continued on, coming across a saxophonist by a fountain in a clearing amongst some pine trees. JC placed what money he had in his pocket into the case before he turned to Ellie.
"May I have this dance?"
"Of course." She slipped her right hand into his left, placing her left onto his arm. They slowly swayed back and forth to the old, forgotten jazz tune. "This song's really pretty."
"Not as pretty as you."
Pink flushed her cheeks. "Stop it."
"I mean it."
"I know. It's just that ladies don't accept compliments."
"I think they do. You're just not used to getting them so you don't know what to do with them."
"Maybe, I don't know." She gently stepped closer to him, wrapping her arms around his waist under his jacket. He bundled her up in his jacket and arms, slowing the pace of their rocking as the song changed to a mournful ballad.

Her breathing slowed down, becoming calmer and deeper. She closed her eyes as she hummed along to the tune.
"Do you remember what you asked me back in L.A.? About that feeling you get when you're with someone and it's like taking a warm nap?" she asked.
"Yeah."
"Why did you ask me that?"
"I was wondering if you felt the same way about me, that's all," he mumbled.
"I think I do, but not because of the reasons you feel that way."
He stopped, standing still as he held her. "Are you falling for me?"

She looked up, accidentally brushing her nose against his, only seeing his eyes looking down at her. She felt his hands grasp the material of her clothes, patiently yet nervously waiting for her answer. She leaned up to kiss him, stupidly trying to distract him whilst she tried to find it. She would find it there, in how every one of her nerves glowed and danced, tingling at his touch. How she shivered but still perspired. In how she dreaded every nanosecond where their bodies were not touching, yet enjoyed every moment of yearning, knowing that the payoff would be stronger, more intense, worth it.
"Yes."