It took a while for her to reply. Her eyes lost focus as they moved between mine, and when she spoke she sounded a little dazed and a little afraid. “I guess going for a drive could be productive…?”
“Don’t sound so frightened.” I laughed. “I’m not a maniac; and besides, there’ll probably be paparazzi following us, so I won’t be able to try anything too crazy.”
As soon as we stepped out onto the crowded street, the lack of space seemed to stress her out because she was breathing agitatedly. I moved my hand from her back and pulled her close, keeping my arm around her shoulders like a barrier.
“Got a touch of claustrophobia?” I asked, guessing.
She nodded, pressing herself to me. I enjoyed how her soft curves fit against my body, how she felt under my hands.
“Just a touch,” she admitted.
“I won’t let anyone get to you, okay? You stay close, and we’ll be fine. Is there any point hailing a cab, or will it be quicker walking?”
“Quicker walking,” she said sharply, and it seemed she was having trouble getting the words out.
Soothingly, I kept rubbing my thumb back and forth over her shoulder.
“Deep breaths, yeah?” I said, coaching her.
She breathed in deeply and nodded. “Yeah.”
It took a while for us to get to my apartment building, and we walked in silence. I even had to sweet-talk a female cop into letting us jump a barrier blocking one side of the street from the other. When Annie pulled herself up on the bars and climbed over, I had to work not to openly stare at how her dress rose, revealing her shapely thighs.
By the time we got to my place, I needed to have lunch. Going to change out of my stained shirt, I told Annie to take a look around if she wanted and help herself to the food in the fridge. She said she wasn’t hungry and seemed content to wander through the penthouse. I knocked back a protein shake and then shoveled down the salad and cold cuts I’d prepared earlier this morning. I was just eating the last bites when Annie pulled up a stool next to me.
“I think I’d die of boredom if I had to eat what you eat every day. I’ve just been looking in your fridge, and there isn’t a single dessert in sight.”
I shrugged and pushed my plate away. “You get used to it. Well, okay, sometimes it’s a struggle; but mostly the sugars get flushed from your system, and you stop craving them all the time.” I paused and looked her over. “So, this drive we’re taking, you got any suggestions on where we could go?”
Her eyes met mine then darted away, her cheeks blushing pink. She laughed softly, but I detected a note of anxiety. “Let’s just try to get out of the city first. If we even manage that, then we’ll decide.”
Chapter Ten
@RonanFitz: @Socialmedialite I’m not having fun and I hold you solely responsible.
@Socialmedialite: @RonanFitz Have you checked out @dirtyrugbyjokes yet? ;-)
@RonanFitz: @Socialmedialite My earlier statement stands firm.
Ronan
As it happened, we did make it out of Manhattan. It took us a while, but I was finally on the motorway heading toward Poughkeepsie. Man, they did roads so much better here than they did back home. Sometimes it felt like there were a million lanes going each way. Also, there was something deeply satisfying about having Annie sitting beside me while I drove. It had been almost ten days since I’d been on the road, so I was obviously in dire need of a fix.
I heard Annie let out a quiet laugh and turned my head to look at her. “What?”
“I was just thinking that I’ve never seen anyone so fixated on a car before,” she replied, her tone surprisingly playful.
I held back a smile, quiet for a moment, before I teased, “Yeah, well, I never saw anyone perform fellatio on an éclair until the day I met you, love.”
She gasped and proceeded to slap me on the arm. “Ronan! I can’t believe you just said that.”
“Hey, I think you should own it. The way you eat is sexy as fuck.”
I glanced away from the road to look at her and saw that she was blushing again. She fiddled with the hem of her pink cardigan and stared out the window. I wanted to touch her so much in that moment that I was practically white-knuckling the steering wheel. It would be so easy to just slip my hand under that silky dress, feel her skin, see how quickly I could get her wet....
I pushed those thoughts away because I was suddenly having difficulty focusing on the road.
“I’ve never owned a car before,” she said, breaking the quiet.
I looked at her. “No?”
She shook her head. “Never. I’ve always wanted one, though. Something fast, like this one. It’s gorgeous. But I’ve never had a reason to buy one, and I don’t know how to drive. Also, highways feel so…I don’t know, intimidating.”
“Ah, once you get over the learning part, it’s as natural as walking. Believe it or not, you’re sitting in my very first car. To this day, she’s still my favorite.”
She gave me an incredulous look. “This was your first car? This is a classic! Did you fix it up yourself? It must have been so expensive.”
“It was, but I scrimped and saved for it. It wasn’t until I made it onto a professional rugby team that I could finally afford it, though.”
“Wow,” she breathed. “Well, all the scrimping and saving was definitely worth it. I’d love a car like this.” She leaned back as though luxuriating in the comfort of the seat and classic lines of the muscle car, and I had to admit, it was a bit of a turn-on. Like I needed to be any more sexed up around this woman.
A couple of minutes passed before I could speak again. “Hey, Annie.”
“Mm-hmm?”
“What did you mean back in the office when you said people might find you a sympathetic character because of your past?”
There were several beats of silence, like she was considering whether or not to answer me. Finally, she did. “You know how in movies sometimes, they’ll have this cliché where a parent leaves their baby on the steps of a church or a hospital or something?”
I nodded and glanced at her. She was smiling, but it was the most heartbreaking smile I’d ever seen.
“Well, that cliché is me.”
I frowned at her, dividing my attention between her and the road. “What do you mean?”
“My mom abandoned me at a fire station when I was six.”
Jesus. Fuck.
I blinked at her, stunned. “Christ….” I exhaled the word and refocused on the road.
I wanted to ask more but didn’t know how to proceed, so we sat quietly for a few minutes.
She surprised me by volunteering, “Then I was sent to a group home and…well, eventually, following that, I was in and out of foster homes. See, I know this business, and if people love anything, it’s a sob story. Why else would they continue to highlight the contestants with sad backgrounds on all those reality talent shows? It helps the audience to relate, to sympathize and, in turn, show support. So, when the press digs into my background, sees how I dragged myself up from low beginnings, it could work to our advantage.” She tilted her chin up, a stubborn tilt, like her professionalism was her armor.
I didn’t respond. I didn’t know what the fuck I was supposed to say. Instead I drove, thinking about what it must’ve been like for her, a beautiful little girl with big brown eyes, a little girl given more brains than affection, a little girl who no one loved.
When I considered her innate tendency toward introversion paired with her childhood, it really was a wonder her past hadn’t completely destroyed her, made her withdraw into herself completely.
She was brave, but it was buried deep under layers and years of neglect and loneliness. She had no one.
Honestly, her story and the bland tone she used when she related it made my stomach hurt like I’d been sucker-punched. I felt queasy. She spoke about her past like it had happened to someone else. It made me want to hit someone.
While I appreciated that she was doing this fake girlfriend act to help me, I couldn’t care less about all that. I cared about her, and I was struck by how much.
Oh, Christ.