Page 39 of The Photo
Alexa called earlier. The second my phone buzzed, I practically jumped on it, then sulked when I saw her face instead of Rowan’s. She asked me to come into the office to talk over a new sponsorship idea.
I’m on route to Toronto when I’d rather catch a long-haul flight to Ireland. I swear, if Rowan doesn't get in touch soon, I’ll confront her in person about my over the top punishment. I’m not sure what hurts the most, the fact she believes that shit, or that she can live without me.
The sun betrays my mood. It’s bright and warm, whereas my head is dull and numb. I’m telling myself this situation is an early lover hiccup. The ‘getting to know you path’ that every important relationship travels along in the beginning. Not that I'd understand that road, having never walked it before. It wouldn’t be so frustrating if we were in the same city. If that were the case then I’d land on her doorstep and show her how much I care, because I do care. I absolutely fucking care about her. This wicked game of hers is turning my life upside down.
I barely acknowledge the receptionist with a grunt and half smile. My coffee tastes like shit. I guess I forgot to drink it while I was thinking over how to reach Rowan during the entire journey to the office.
“Noah! You look rough.” Alexa drops her pen on the desk and pushes back in her chair.
“I’m fine.” I drop the paper cup full of cold coffee into the trash, hearing it thud to the bottom. So what if I haven’t shaved in a couple of days, or that my sleep pattern isn’t a pattern anymore? It’s more of a sporadic disaster. “Rockin’ the casual vibe.” I shrug, drag out a chair and sit opposite her at the desk.
She clears her throat, shifting on her hipbones. “Have you seen it?”
“Seen what?” I glance at my black digital watch, converting the time zones in my head.
Alexa swivels her monitor around, so the screen is visible. “This.” There's no bubbly back chat, just a serious, stern expression that settles on my face. My eyes blur, seeing my face and Rowan’s beautiful smile plastered across the rectangle. I’m kissing her… well my tongue is dancing with hers… my fingers are on her cheeks… her head is on my pillow… I remember the very second I took that shot on her phone.
“Where did you get that?” I quiz. Our private moments are right there on Alexa’s monitor.
“It’s an online hot gossip site.”
“How did they get that picture?”
Alexa clicks her mouse, and the image changes. “There’s more.”
I stare in a trance as every intimate photograph appears before my eyes, splashed over the internet for the world to see. “I don’t give a fuck if they see me with her. She’s mine. We’re together.”
Alexa doesn’t speak. Her lashes lower. Then it hits me like a gargantuan rock. “I took those pictures on Rowan’s phone. She shared a few of them with me, but those—only she has those ones.”Fuck.
“I’m sorry, Noah.” Alexa sighs. “It’s obvious they’re personal photos. She’s sold you out.”
My eyes narrow as confusion bites. “That’s bullshit, she’d never do that.” The venom in my response isn’t intentionally fierce.
Alexa angles her screen away. “How else would those photos get leaked? When was the last time you spoke to her?”
I refuse to answer her probing questions. This isn’t sitting well with me. My stomach is tight, and my lungs can't fully expand. The skin on my arms itches. “Did you rearrange my schedule like I asked?” My chair scrapes over the floor with a high-pitched squeak.
“I postponed a few shoots and reworked them for next month, but there are a few important meetings we can’t get out of.”
“I’ll attend via conference call.”
“No! Get back here.” Alexa swings her chair around and bounces up from sitting. Heels click as she marches across the room, grabbing my arm when I reach the door. My shoulders slump, and my brain hurts. “Wake up, Noah. She played you. Do not let this ruin your career.” Amber eyes glow with concern. “You’ve worked so hard. We’ve worked hard.” She sighs. “Promise me you won’t fly to her either. It’s over. Face the facts.” She touches my arm gently. “I’m sorry, it's obvious you’re besotted with her. I feel bad because I pushed you to take a chance. You were right, guys like you can’t get involved with fans.”
I stand in the quiet office, stunned and bewildered. “She’s not like those other women, Alexa. Rowan’s different. I can’t believe she would do this.”
“Well… she did.”
Seventeen
“Are you ready to leave the hospital, honey?” Mother bumps her shoulder to mine. There was a time when her comfort scared away the monsters living in my wardrobe and her loving arms filled my heart with happiness and safety. Now, I’m older, heartbroken, and jilted. No amount of mothering will fix my low mood.
Her pastel pink shirt is pressed impeccably, and soft brown hair is freshly snipped at the tips. I miss those motherly comforts. At home there were always neat piles of ironing, tea and toast for supper and bed sheets changed regularly. She even ironed my knickers. Seriously, there’s nothing better than finding smooth flattened cotton panties in your drawer.
When I moved to the city to be closer to college, I found living on my own brought both freedom and too many chores. These days I hang clothes on the radiator in such a way that they dry, ready to wear - almost. I’ve swapped out my schoolgirl panties for racy thongs, so they just need a good shake and zero effort. No one has time to iron their underwear.
The swollen lump on the side of my head throbs. I groan like a decrepit granny, rotating my hips on the bed. Father instantly clamps my bicep to steady me when my legs drop off the side. A tight bandage cinching my ankle is another reminder of my fall.
“I’ve got you!” he exclaims. My lips straighten to a weak smile. I’m not a little girl anymore.
