Page 177 of Paint the Town, Dove
I thought I knew him.
I didknowhim.
But the last two months felt like a fever dream in comparison to the almost two decades of our life.
We met as children, hung on through adolescence, adulthood, made new by stardom, now intimately, vulnerably, but not… calm. I saw that now. The wave of peace that blanketed him like a coveted dream as he wrote, sang, played.
You think you know every piece of a person until they do the little things that amaze you.
It’s a blessing, to discover someone you love all over again.
A soft knock came from my door. “Dove?”
I looked down at myself, soapy bubbles covering my breasts.Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck ME for giving him a key all those years ago.
“Little busy!” I called back, trying to froth the remnants of crushed bath bomb at the bottom of my tub. “What do you want?”
He strolled in anyway and I threw water at his face. “You don’t listen to anyone, do you?”
He bent down and placed a gentle kiss on my forehead. My insides warmed at the touch. Suddenly, I felt a little too exposed – naked and strippedbare in front of my best friend and… um –
“You were mine forever,” he said, kneeling down to my height. “Just because we slapped a label on it doesn’t mean you weren’t always.”
“Hm,” I smirked. “Poetic.”
“I can be,” he chuckled. “Especially when it comes to a pretty bird with red hair.”
I blushed, returning my eyes to my notebook. “I don’t like you sitting so close to me.”
“I’m not sitting, I’m kneeling.”
“Semantics.”
Before I could react, he stripped down to his boxers, shirt discarded exposing ropey muscles and a chiselled torso. Then asplashof water carried a current, wetting my pages.
“Oh for the love of –”
He swiped the notebook from out of my hands, sealing it behind him on the towel rack. “Talk to me,” he said, pulling my legs to fit on his lap. “Tell me what you’ve been working on.”
“No,” I crossed my arms over my chest. “It’s a secret.”
He smirked, tongue jutting from his cheek. “A duet is a partnership, Dove. You’re supposed to share the lyrics so I can sing them.”
I stared at him.
My… God, I couldn’t even say it without fighting my own instincts.
After the blow up with Paisley and everyone witnessing Ryden and I… well, being Ryden and I – there was no use in pretending what we were.
What we’ve always been.
I realized the fear I felt believing everyone would judge us, ruin us, the potential loss of my job would be inescapable.Prioritizing other people’s opinions ended up serving as my downfall.
Battling my own urges was almost impossible to conquer.
I tried. I fucking tried. For weeks, we’d sneak around, tangled in each other’s sheets forgetting the fame and the cameras and the outlets. It was easier for me that way, to play around as if Ryden wasn’t my one great love (though he was) and act as if we were just ex-lovers who couldn’t fight the bite.
It felt like a dirty little secret, something sacred between him and I if no one knew. It felt like I could split myself down the middle and be the manager I knew how to be, the protector, the planner – but I began to crave the… warmth, Ryden provided. The companionship in a way I never thought possible.
