Obsession (Dangerous Love #1)

CHAPTER 9

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COLORED DUST ARTISTS

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Harris left me alone for the rest of the day.

What happened had affected him too, not just me. Whatever the reason, I was grateful that he gave me a moment to catch my breath.

I didn’t dare speak to the others because I felt guilty for what Zac had been through, but he was the one who came to me at the end of the day and offered to take me home. He wouldn’t allow himself to be intimidated by Harris.

None of them knew what had happened after I left the field, and I couldn’t pretend I hated Harris anymore.

Did I hate him?

I didn’t know what the hell was going on in my head anymore.

I was lucky my dad was there to get me.

***

The week had passed as if in slow motion, and I didn’t even know why, because I finally had some peace and quiet. After the volcanic way in which everything started, Thursday and Friday were strangely quiet, apart from the fact that I was still being heavily analyzed.

By the end of Friday, conclusions had been drawn. Harris tried to bed me, probably succeeded, I already saw myself as his girlfriend, but then I realized he didn’t want to leave Amber, so that was why I had caused a scene on the field.

In short, I was an idiot in their eyes who thought she bagged the guy but ended up being used.

The most painful part was that the rumors were true to a certain extent. I had been stupid from the start. If he hadn’t asked me to stop him then, I wouldn’t have, and I would have fallen a lot deeper. Maybe I was high, but I wouldn’t be honest if I blamed it solely on the drugs.

Harris hadn’t been very present. On Thursday he’d been absent all day, along with his friends, and on Friday they’d all left before lunch. They skipped school without thinking about the consequences, and Chris told me that was the norm for them.

He didn’t speak a word to me or send any more text messages. I felt him staring at me a few times, but I did not return his gaze.

I hated how I felt every time he was around, when I knew he was looking at me. I hated his effect on me, but most of all I hated my own stupidity, because there were moments when I wanted nothing more than to be back in the gym with him, in the darkness.

He wasn’t the first man I’d been attracted to; I hadn’t turned eighteen like a virgin Mary who was not interested in the opposite sex. I’d had friends, coworkers – my choreographer, who I’d had a crush on for two years – who had caught my attention, but none of them had such an effect on me, not even my attempted relationship from when I was a freshman in high school.

It had taken the kid about three weeks to end it because I didn’t pay enough attention to him. In his defense: he was right. When I wasn’t in school, I was practicing. He said ‘goodbye’ when he came to see me at the studio where I danced almost every day. I don’t remember what competition I was training for, but Vince and I danced every spare minute we had. Roger, my poor sixteen-year-old boyfriend, didn’t like the dance because Vince would touch me all over while we practiced. It was not a sexy choreography by any means, but touching was unavoidable in couple pairings. The fact that Vince was hot and five years older than us didn’t help either, so I was without a boyfriend in seconds.

I still found it funny how Vince ordered me a comforting pizza afterwards and we laughed about our failed relationships. He had a much larger spread sheet than I did. I never told him I was attracted to him, but at that age, any guy could figure things like that out, especially when a teenager was involved. I was a brainless minor, and he clearly had known better than me how to respect that.

Not that I was any smarter now, considering what I’d done since I’d arrived in Seattle.

***

On Saturday morning I woke up with a terrible headache. I stared at the ceiling, which seemed to be spinning, until I managed to see clearly.

Wincing, I rubbed my forehead and tried with all my might not to think about drugs, about how badly I needed a dose. My brain was already shutting down, blocked by the thought that I needed drugs to live another day, but I hated those feelings so much that I mentally kicked my brain to get the drugs out of my mind. If I could have taken it out of my skull and physically stomped on it, I would have.

I tried to compare the rush to Harris, as I had done in the locker room on Wednesday.

I didn’t want him either, or the drugs.

I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth and swallowed some medicine, hoping it would ease the dizziness, then went downstairs. My dad was on the phone while writing some stuff down in a planner.

“Six hundred pieces? Are you sure that’s enough? … Mhm, I think you should buy a thousand, you’ll sell them after, if not at the fair.”

I raised an eyebrow as I made myself a strong coffee at the espresso machine. He looked at me and smiled, then continued talking about the boxes, then hung up.

“Good morning, honey.”

I pointed to the planner he kept writing in.

“Opening a business?”

He laughed.

“No, but I promised Josh that I’d help him prepare for the fair.” I had a feeling I knew what he was talking about, but the details were fuzzy. “You remember Uncle Josh, don’t you?”

“Should I?”

He gave me a soft smile.

“I suppose not; you only saw him once when you were about six years old. He’s my cousin who still lives here and owns a bakery.”

The next second, I knew what he was talking about.

“Were you guys talking about the fair that’s being held for the local producers?”

My father seemed surprised as he pulled out the ingredients for an omelet.

“You heard about it?”

I nodded as I mixed a teaspoon of honey into my coffee, then turned the glass jar towards my father.

“I was shopping on Tuesday; a really nice old lady gave me this jar. I think her name is Iolanda.”

My father’s face brightened.

“Yeah, she’s Josh’s mother-in-law. His sweets are famous around here because they’re made with her honey,” suddenly amused, he pointed to the jar. “Did I ever tell you about that time I ended up in the hospital because of that thing?”

“What?” I laughed.

“Yeah, I ate like two jars in one sitting, that’s how much I liked it. I can’t even look at it without remembering how sick I felt.”

After staring at him for a while longer, I burst out laughing as I put my finger first in the jar and then in my mouth.

“It’s true, there is something special about it.”

“It’s completely natural, not just an advertisement on the label, but don’t be fooled, it’ll kick your ass if you overdo it.”

Still laughing, I swirled the teaspoon in my coffee and added some milk, then let out a few satisfied sounds as I tasted it. I was going to make a habit of drinking my coffee with this honey. It was something different.

My dad continued to talk enthusiastically about the Massen family, who were in some way related to us. It was a strange feeling to remember that Seattle was not a new city to my father, that it had once been his home and that he was rebuilding his friendships and getting to know his family again.

None of them had been thrilled when he had married my mom. I never understood why they hated her so much, why they hadn’t accepted my father’s decision and their love.

I hated them all for it. I even refused to see my grandparents until the day they were on their deathbed. Apart from that, I had no other connection to my father’s family. My mother only had her sister and my grandmother, but she died too soon, and I didn’t get to spend much time with her. She visited us almost every month, and she liked my father, and I loved her.

My father had given up everything for my mother, he had cut ties with his family and moved to another city with her when they were just a young couple, unemployed and penniless.

Now, looking back, I wondered if they knew more about my mother than I did. I could not understand why they loathed her and tried to destroy their relationship, but at the same time I would never have believed my mother capable of what she had done a year ago.

Still, I was sure of one thing: she hadn’t married my father for money. With or without honey, they weren’t rich.

My dad snapped me out of my thoughts when he threw a piece of cheese at me. I flinched when I saw it coming towards my face and caught it before it hit me.

“What are you frowning about?”

I shook my head and sipped my coffee.

“I’m trying to come to terms with the fact that we’re here, where your family is.”

“They’re your family too, Kath.”

A bitter smile carved my lips.

“Debatable.”

“Now that you mention it…” he stopped scrambling the eggs and looked at me a little uneasily. “Do you have any plans for today?”

I thought about it for a moment, then shook my head. My life was extremely interesting, my activities revolving around homework and the agony of resisting the urge to walk around town looking for drugs.

I drank almost all of my coffee in a few gulps; it helped with the dizziness.

“How about you come to the fair with me? I promised Josh I’d help with his stall, and I’m sure Iolanda needs help too.”

I wrinkled my nose.

“I’m not in the mood to set up cookies and jars of honey, Dad.”

He made a sad, funny face.

“Please.”

Puppy eyes. Unbelievable. I narrowed my eyes in his direction.

“What’s the ulterior motive?”

“I’m just getting you out of the house, so you don’t mope around here all day like a grounded kid.”

“I am a grounded kid; in case you have forgotten.”

He smiled.

“If you come with me, the punishment will disappear.”

Oh, now we’re talking.

“And I can do what I want after class? Without you calling me and stressing me out?”

“As long as you do your homework and stay on the cheerleading squad, yes, then you’re free.”

Even though I was sure he had another reason, I couldn’t turn down the offer. He was stressing me out with his intention to pick me up from school after class. He had been helpful on Wednesday, but I wanted to get rid of him.

“Fine, I’ll come, but don’t try to push me into their lives. Remember, I’m the child of the woman they never agreed with.”

He grew serious and fell silent for a few minutes as he poured the eggs into the pan.

“You know they loved you from the beginning. You’re the one who refused to have anything to do with them.”

“Yeah, but it was a little complicated since none of them could stand to be in the same room as my mom.”

As I remembered them, my father’s features became sad. He was cheerful, but sometimes I could see the exhaustion in him, the titanic work he was doing, especially mentally, to keep going and keep living. I didn’t want to think about how hard it was for him to be back here, with the family that had pushed him aside for so many years because he had married my mother. If I were him, I would have moved to the other side of the world before coming back here.

I was relieved when my phone buzzed on the table next to my hand. I didn’t want to dwell on these thoughts. My life was already complicated enough.

I was completely torn from my thoughts when I saw the name on the display. I took the rest of my coffee with me and left the kitchen, because this was not a conversation I could have in front of my father.

“Hey, Thor,” I answered with a smile as I climbed the stairs to my room.

Adam started laughing.

“Hey, Sif.”

I laughed too. Keith – a huge comic book lover and the biggest Stan Lee fan out there – gave us the nicknames because we looked too much like the two Asgardians. Thor and Sif were friends and comrades in arms, although the character suited me better when I was a brunette.

I went into my room and closed the door behind me. I’d last spoken to him on Tuesday when he’d scolded me to be careful with the drugs.

“Did you call to make sure I was not over the edge?”

“Can’t someone worry about you without you scolding them for it?”

I snorted and threw myself on the bed.

“Don’t worry about it, even if I wanted drugs, I couldn’t get them anywhere around here.”

“Good.” I rolled my eyes. “Actually, that’s not why I called, I… I need your help,” his voice suddenly changed, seemingly contained.

I stared at the ceiling, frowning. “Has something happened?”

“No, everything’s fine, it’s just that I’m going back to college in a month, and I am having some problems.”

I panicked.

“Your criminal record,” I guessed.

“That too,” he sighed.

I started biting my nails.

Adam had accomplished something that not many could. He’d been accepted to NYU, into one of the most prestigious photography departments in the country, where only forty students were admitted each year. Tuition wasn’t cheap, but Adam was lucky with his stepfather, who was filthy rich. That’s why we got along so well, even though Nicky was the one who introduced me to her group. We both had moms who sought their happiness in the arms of billionaires.

He deserved his spot, the guy could basically turn a leaf into a masterpiece, but his entourage and lifestyle put some obstacles in his way, just like me. With the difference that I was no longer interested in dancing.

After the Decepticon fast food fiasco, he had an ugly stain on his resume. Luckily, he’d gotten rid of the gun before the police caught him – to this day I am not sure how he did it, because no one ever found it – but he’d still been one step away from jail.

“It was a big problem, but I was able to solve it; my mother’s husband put his big name to work. It’s just that I had some projects I was supposed to do over the summer, and I didn’t get to any of them.”

My curiosity got the better of me as Adam talked as if he’d suddenly forgotten how to form words into sentences.

“Okay, Adam, I get the impression you keep beating around the bush,” a light laugh escaped me, and he sighed again.

I knew he dreamed of becoming a professional model photographer, working for Victoria’s Secret and other such perfections, but I didn’t quite understand why he was telling me about it.

Another sigh. I still found his behavior odd, like he didn’t know how to hold back. Adam wasn’t the type to stress over a conversation.

“The project is called ‘Colored Dust Artists’. I need an artist for the photo shoot.”

I blinked a few times because I still didn’t understand what it was about.

“And you want me to throw dust at your artist, or what?”

He burst out laughing.

“Fuck, I’d forgotten how quickly you can make me laugh when I’m tense. No, Kath, I want you to model for me. What do you think?”

That left me completely speechless. I sat up on the bed.

“I think you don’t understand what the word ‘artist’ means.”

I could feel him rolling his eyes through the phone.

“Don’t start again. I may have met you late in life, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know who you are.”

I pursed my lips, slightly annoyed. Those were more or less the same words the principal had used.

“Fine, but I don’t think a washed-up dancer is going to give you much of a chance. I’m sure your stepfather knows much more important artists you could use.”

He mumbled something I couldn’t understand.

“It’s enough that he keeps reminding me about the record thing, I don’t want to ask him for help anymore. And I don’t want other artists, I want you. I have an absolutely brilliant idea that would suit you perfectly, and all I’m asking you for is a few hours in a studio.”

I bit my nail again and paced back and forth in my room.

“I don’t know, Adam; I don’t even look like a dancer anymore. I’d hate for you to fail because of me.”

“You’re perfect Kath, just what I need. Please.”

What was I supposed to say? No, I don’t want you to take pictures of me that would probably help your career because I’m a traumatized freak who starts crying like a madwoman when she dances?

He was my friend; he had often been like an older brother to me and had helped me out of many dangerous situations. I had known him for less than a year, but it felt like much longer.

I took a deep breath.

“Okay, I’ll try, but I can’t promise I’ll be what you want me to be. I haven’t practiced in a long time and I’m a bit rusty.”

“Think you can still put your foot on my shoulder?”

I started to laugh.

“Without a doubt.”

He laughed too.

“That’s all I need. Even though I am not going to make you do exactly that, don’t worry.”

That brought an uninvited guest into my thoughts, and my skin started to prickle at the uncomfortable feeling he triggered. I remembered Harris’s reaction when I put my foot on his shoulder, and what happened afterward. I shook my head.

“I know your pain, Kath, and you have no idea how much this means to me, I promise I won’t ask you to dance. It’s not the first time I’ve photographed you, and I already know your angles.”

I giggled and rolled my eyes.

“And you forgot how much that annoyed me.”

A strained laugh escaped him, and there was something strange about his tone, too. He seemed much more exhausted than he wanted to let on.

“Do you think you could be free in about two weeks? I’ll take care of everything; you just need a few hours to spare.”

I tried not to think about my father’s reaction to Adam’s visit because he knew who he was. But having managed to smuggle Harris into my kitchen without him finding out, I felt secure in my mission.

“What’s going to happen to the photos? I don’t want to turn up in …”

“Absolutely not,” he interrupted me, “they will only be used for the project and will not be published anywhere. I promise I’ll ask your permission if anyone asks.”

Goosebumps spread across my skin; I didn’t want to put my failed career attempt in the spotlight.

“Okay, it’s a deal then.”

He sighed, though he didn’t seem relieved.

“Thank you, Kath, you’re fantastic. And I’m sorry.”

I frowned; there was pain in his tone.

“For what?”

“For everything.”

He didn’t go into any more detail, but I understood what he was alluding to.

He then ended our conversation, and I sat back down on the bed and looked at my legs. I was wearing pajama shorts and tensed my muscles again.

I was so uninterested in my image, but I didn’t want his project to fail because of me. I knew what a real dancer should look like, especially a contemporary dancer, and I didn’t look like one anymore.

In a rush of adrenaline, I took off my pajamas, put on a tracksuit, shoved my headphones in my ears and went downstairs.

My dad was still standing in the kitchen with a plate in front of him, his nose buried in his phone.

“The omelet is…”

“I’m going for a run, I’ll eat afterwards. When do we have to be downtown for the preparations?”

“Any time, they’re there all day. I can wait for you.”

He seemed very pleased that I was active again, and I preferred not to tell him why. After drinking some water, I walked out of the house.

Without thinking about it, I chose a completely inappropriate playlist. I had no idea what commands my idiot brain was sending to my fingers, but it wasn’t the right time to listen to 2Scratch. I paused and mumbled to myself as I selected a playlist by Chase Atlantic, but their songs didn’t take me far from the demon’s vibe. Swim was making a mockery of me with every line.

Until last week, I had loved this song. Now I began to imagine Harris’ deep, sultry voice whispering the lyrics to me.

I hadn’t warmed up before my run, and that was a bad idea, but I wanted to see what I was still capable of. I used to be able to run seven miles without stopping, and fast, but I also had a different body. Now I was panting after half a mile and my biggest fear was getting lost.

A few days ago, I was thinking about how Harris and Adam would get along, but it didn’t matter anymore. Harris had moved on from what had happened between us, and it was pretty clear he wanted nothing more to do with me.

I gritted my teeth and picked up the pace, running as fast as my feet could carry me and pouring my frustration into it.

Why the hell did that bother me so much? The fact that he was basically ignoring me after… what? Two days? It was true that I felt things during those days that I never felt in my eighteen years of life, but that didn’t mean I should have expected anything from him.

We had shared a kiss and a few touches. Judging by his reputation, he’d probably forgotten all about me by now, and I was the idiot who obsessively thought about him, whose body heated from top to bottom when I felt his eyes on me.

I started to pant and paused to catch my breath. Or rather because I felt like a fish out of water. I leaned down and rested my palms on my knees as my heart pounded hard in my chest. I could feel it roaring in my ears as my untrained muscles protested against the sudden surge of adrenaline.

Furious at the state I had gotten myself into, I started running again before I caught my breath. There was a park nearby, but I had no idea where, and I didn’t feel like stopping and using the GPS to find it, so I ran around the neighborhood. I was glad there weren’t many people on the sidewalk, and I didn’t have to worry about bumping into anyone.

I wasn’t paying attention to the route because my thoughts were constantly revolving around Harris, the photo shoot, and drugs. I had my mind full, which is why I didn’t notice that I’d ended up in the middle of the road.

My instincts were working because I was on the crosswalk, but the music in my ears blocked out the outside noise and I saw the approaching car a little too late.

Almost screaming, I jumped back at the last second as the car passed me.

My heart pounded against my ribcage.

It didn’t even stop, it just drove on, and I was frozen to the spot, with a horrible feeling of déjà vu in my bones.

Maybe it was just a coincidence, because it was entirely my fault for not looking before I crossed the intersection, but I could have sworn I knew that car.

Even though it was an ordinary car, I had a feeling that it was the car that I had completely forgotten about.

A gray Range Rover, one step away from running me over again.