Page 27 of Paparazzi

“I don’t say your name when we’re in bed.” She laughs amusedly.

“Yes, you do, even if you don’t realize it. And it’s the sexiest sound a woman can make.”

“I’ll have to be careful not to say the names of the other lovers then.”

I turn to her and feel my heart clench. It never crossed my mind that she might have someone else, but it’s not like she’s my property. She can sleep with anyone she likes, and I can’t really stop her. But it hurts just thinking about it.

Iris bursts out laughing. “I’m joking, don’t worry. You should see your face. It looks like you swallowed a lemon.”

I hug her tight and start to breathe again. “Don’t joke about something like that.”

Iris gets out of bed and looks at me with a smile. She doesn’t seem floored by my reaction to the idea of seeing other people. “Not that I mind having you here, really, but don’t you have a super busy life? I mean, is it normal that in the middle of the afternoon of a working day, you show up at someone’s house?” She slips on her shirt again, leaving her pale, perfect butt uncovered and it makes me want to do anything but answer her.

“Damian and Lilly invited Michael and me to their house for dinner tonight. I’m wondering if you wanted to come too.”

“No.” Her answer is so sudden that a punch in the stomach would have hurt less. Her face is a mix of concern and terror—as if I’d asked her to go to war. Her jaw clenches and her eyes lower without meeting mine, making me realize her answer was not impulsive after all.

“Wow, I expected having to convince you a little, but your answer seems pretty final,” I admit, not hiding my disappointment. “Can I at least know why?”

I see her blush, slip on her panties, and I feel embarrassed with my pants still mid-thigh. How the hell have we gone from unrestrained orgasms to this total awkwardness?

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“If it’s because they didn’t invite you directly, I can assure you it’s not a problem. In fact, if you want, I’ll call Lilly right now to let her know.”

“No, I’m busy,” she replies dryly, and I can tell it’s a lie. But I don’t go any further. I have the feeling that insisting would make the situation worse.

The silence in the room suddenly got even more awkward. She steels herself against me, giving me her back, while she fiddles with something in the pantry that doesn’t need to be fixed. I pull up my jeans, watching her for a few minutes. I don’t know what I did wrong, but it’s clear from her demeanor she doesn’t want me around.

“I guess I should go...”

“Okay, bye.” She doesn’t even turn around.

I watch her for a few more seconds, the temptation to walk to her, turn her around and ask her why she’s angry is strong, but I feel hurt. I don’t expose myself like that to anyone, and her dry rejection stings. I go out the door and close it behind me without turning around, walking down the hallway until I get out into the open air and inhale thoroughly. It’s not enough to relax the grip on my stomach that’s almost making me vomit. I approach a side street, busier than where Iris’s building is located, and stop a taxi, ready to go home with my tail between my legs.

The sense of disappointment that grips my chest is almost heartbreaking. I thought I was more than just a celebrity fuck. Her body language, the way she asks about my job, I thought she was really interested in me. That we could take a step beyond just the random encounters. Am I seeing more than what’s really here? Because she didn’t give me the impression she was looking for a famous fuck. I was convinced she was really into part of my life that she’s loved from the start. She’s the one who managed to find our first demos on eBay. She should be ecstatic at the opportunity to get to know the band that’s made her passionate about music since she was a kid. I assumed that her fan spirit would win over the nervousness of a dinner with me.

I don’t think even baking cookies all afternoon can help ease the pain of her confusing, hurtful behavior.

*

“Can you tell us what the hell is going on?” Michael stares at me across the table, chewing on a piece of meat he just picked up from his plate, which, unlike mine, is now empty.

“It’s true. You’re particularly quiet tonight. Is something bothering you?” Lilly, next to me, rests her hand on my arm, her expression concerned.

I try to muster a genuine smile, but I realize I can’t do it when my jaw muscles tighten. “No, I’m just a little tired. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“We have nothing to do these days. How the hell can you be tired?” Damian points out amusedly while Lilly gives him the side-eye.

“He’s right. And besides, you don’t get this cranky when you’re tired,” Michael says.

I realize there’s no escaping their interrogation, so I put down my fork and let this evening take a turn that annoys me. “I asked Iris to come to dinner with me tonight, and she said no in a rather brutal way,” I admit.

The silence that descends over the table is unexpected. Everyone is looking at me with wide eyes and open mouths.

“I didn’t kill anyone, don’t look at me like that!”

“Excuse us, but you can’t drop a bomb like that and expect us not to be stunned.” Lilly smiles at me, but I see she is worried.

---