Stinger

"Grace," I started, walking toward her. She shrunk back and that small movement made me want to slam my fist into the wall. I looked at her pleadingly. "Grace, you knew what I did…"

She looked up at me with eyes filled with hurt. "I know," she whispered. "I guess I just didn't think you'd be going directly from me to someone else." She shook her head.

"It's not like that, Grace. It's work," I said quietly.

She nodded, biting her lip. "The thing is, Carson, how do you separate the two? I never asked you anything about what you do because I didn't want to think about it–not truly. But now I want to know. How do you separate real life from 'work'?"

I stared at her and told her the truth. "I've only made four films, Grace. Like I told you in the elevator, I don't exactly enjoy it, but it was always easy enough for me. Before."

"Before what?" she asked, her eyes searching mine.

"Before you. You've changed things for me." And as the words tumbled from my mouth, I realized that she had. I wasn't sure exactly how or what that meant, but I knew it was true.

She stared at me, blinking. "So what are you going to do then?" she asked quietly.

I scrubbed a hand down my face. "What can I do?" I asked, raising my voice, feeling the anger and frustration of the situation fill me. "I have a two-year contract, and I'm only six months into it. I'll get sued if I break it. And what the f**k else am I going to do, Grace? Work at a gas station? I don't have a college degree. I don't have any other prospects. I don't have anything to offer you," I said, the misery washing over me in the truth of my statement. I'd never felt more worthless.

Her eyes had filled with tears at my words. She looked down and shook her head. After a minute she sighed and started walking toward me. "I'm sorry, this isn't fair. I knew what you did and now I'm holding it against you. It's just… it didn't hurt two days ago. It hurts now," she finished quietly.

I slumped my shoulders, defeated. This was a no-win situation. I had thought we'd figure out a way to make something work, but how? What? It was true–I had nothing to offer her. She couldn't deal with what I did and still be a part of my life, and I didn't blame her. How would I feel if Grace was going off to make a film with some other guy tomorrow morning? I wouldn't care that it was "work," it would freak me the f**k out. Jealousy charged through me at just the thought alone.

I had told her that we were friends, and we were, but we were more too–what exactly, I wasn't sure and there was no way for us to explore any of it. The fact that we lived in two different cities was the very least of our challenges.

And as far as my job, I had few to no good options aside from what I was doing right in the moment. I had spent a lot of money in Vegas, not that I'd tell her that, and I needed the contract installment that tomorrow's shoot would bring me to replenish my bank account.

"Isn't there anything else you've thought of doing?" she asked warily. "I mean, surely you couldn't have planned to do this forever."

"I don't have a plan, Grace! You're the one with the plan!" I yelled out, hating myself, so filled with regret and frustration that I lashed out at her. My voice sounded broken, even to my own ears.

She looked at me so sadly. I wanted to make it better for her, but I couldn't. I was worthless and powerless and the girl I cared about was standing in front of me with tears in her eyes, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes very briefly. "I don't want to lose you, Buttercup, but I don't have a plan," I said miserably. "I'm so sorry, so sorry." I raked both hands through my hair, grimacing and turning away from her.

"Come to D.C., Carson. Stay with me. We can figure something out." I turned back around to her at her words. "Maybe you could enroll in college there… or…" she trailed off, her eyes losing the look of desperation that had been in them a moment before. Now she was frowning and looking sad and uncertain.

I studied her. My sweet Buttercup. "I can't stay on your couch mooching off of you, Grace. If this," I waved my arm around the room indicating where we had started, "was an unlikely way for anything real to begin, that situation would be the worst idea in the history of bad relationship ideas. What would your dad think? I wouldn't do that to you–to us."

Her eyes met mine and we looked at each other for long minutes. I could see that she was out of ideas too. The sadness coming off of her was palpable.

She sighed heavily and looked down. "This is going to hurt more if I stay with you until tomorrow morning," she said quietly. "I can't stand it hurting any more than it does now."

I nodded, my jaw clenching and something inside pulling tight and snapping. "I know," I said.

She nodded again and stood up and started gathering her things. I sat silently, staring ahead, hating life, hating myself and my stupid choices, and most of all hating the fact that we could never explore what was blossoming between us.

When she was done, she came over to me and knelt down in front of me just as I had done to her yesterday. She looked up at me with tears shimmering in her big, blue eyes. "I'll always think of you when I get on an elevator or see a sunrise," she said quietly, her voice breaking on the last word.

I looked down at her and gave her a small smile, my heart thudding hollowly in my chest. I would never know what we could have been together and it felt so f**king unfair. I thought of all the things that would make me think of her, too many to mention them all. "I'll always think of you when I watch Titanic… or see a Buttercup," I said.

She smiled sadly, standing up slowly and kissing me on my lips gently, lingering there as she put her hand on my cheek. She turned away too quickly for me to see her face and she opened the door and closed it quietly behind her.

I stood up and grabbed the vase of flowers off the desk and hurled it at the wall. Glass shattered and water and flowers rained down as I sat back down on the bed heavily and put my head in my hands.

The Eagle

CHAPTER 13

Grace

I closed the door behind me and the tears started to fall. I knew this was the right thing to do–I couldn't stay a minute longer knowing where he was headed in the morning, and knowing that my heart was involved. But it didn't change the fact that I was forcing myself to leave. It didn't change the fact that it hurt to leave. It didn't change the stark misery that had washed over his face when he realized I was leaving. As I stepped on the elevator and the doors closed behind me, I swiped at my cheeks and leaned back against the wall.

This is where it had started. On an elevator. And now here I was on an elevator again–only this time it was ending. And I didn't want it to. I wanted to go back in time and do it all over again, even knowing what I now knew, just to spend a couple more days with him.

I stepped off and made my way to my room and let myself in. I sank down on the bed and curled into a ball, allowing myself to sob. When the worst of it had passed, I stood up and went to the bathroom and washed my face. Then I changed into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and started packing. There was no way I was staying in this hotel with Carson a couple floors above me. There were several reasons for this, mainly that I simply didn't trust myself not to run back to his room and fling myself at him. But to what end? I shook my head sadly. I had gotten myself into this situation. But how would I have known that I would develop feelings for Carson Stinger, Straight Male Performer? It was almost ludicrous, even now that it was my reality. But that was a thought I would have had a couple days ago. Now? Now it wasn't really ludicrous at all. Because what I didn't know at the time was that he had an impossibly sweet side, and that he was exciting and brave and generous in every way possible. Did I wish I had never been given this information? Would I rather go back to the time when it was easy to walk away from him, if I had to agree that I would never experience the beauty of our weekend? I was too hurt and confused to answer those questions right now.

I put my large bag over my shoulder and pulled the handle up on my suitcase and rolled it out the door.

I checked out quickly and went outside to wait for the shuttle to the airport. I prayed that there was a flight I could get on tonight but if not, I'd sleep at the airport. It wasn't much of a plan. I almost laughed, but caught myself. Then I almost sobbed and caught myself again. I bit my lip.

The shuttle picked me up fifteen minutes later and I looked back over my shoulder at the Bellagio. I'd become a different person this weekend. Carson had changed me in ways that I suspected were going to make me look at all my decisions differently, make me re-evaluate all my "well-made" plans. I was going to take that with me now and think of him as a gift, as much as my heart was breaking with loss. It was all I had to hold onto so that I didn't demand that the shuttle driver stop and let me out so that I could go running back to him. I leaned my head back on the seat and let the mixture of heartbreak and hope wash over me, bathing my heart in both darkness and in light.

**********

I wheeled my suitcase into my apartment the next morning at seven thirty, exhausted in every way possible. I had been able to change my flight to a red-eye, and had sat around the airport for several hours waiting until boarding started. I had tried to sleep once I got on the plane, but my mind wouldn't let me, too active to shut down and allow me some rest.

I went over every minute of my weekend with Carson, trying to pinpoint the exact moment when I handed him a piece of my heart. Had it been over hot dogs that first night? After the amazing sex? Laughing in the pool? When he told me he was jealous of Parker, revealing that he had feelings for me too? Or had it been sooner than that? Maybe in the elevator when he sang to me to keep me from panicking? When I discovered why he put on that false front of his? Was it possible to connect to another person that quickly? I wanted to scream! Shut down, brain! Why did it even matter? I was like Rainman playing, "Who's on First," over and over and over.

"Hey Pod Person!" I heard called from the kitchen and I left my suitcase and bag at the door, and walked in to greet Abby.

"Hi Abs," I said in a voice even I realized sounded dead. Abby was sitting at our small kitchen table in a pair of sweat pants and a long-sleeved t-shirt, her dark brown hair up in a messy pile on top of her head, a cup of coffee and some papers and a pen in front of her.

At the sight of me, her eyes widened and her expression turned concerned. "What'd he do to you?" she whispered, standing up and coming over to me.

I shook my head as my face crumbled and my emotions welled up at the sight of the comfort of my best friend. "He didn't do anything to me, Abby. I did it to myself. I–" I choked and the tears started coming.

Abby pulled me to her, stroking my back and hugging me silently for several minutes as I got a hold of myself. When my tears had subsided, she pulled back and looked into my face, her expression stern.

"I can't believe you did this to us, Grace," she said.

A laugh burst out of me. "To us?" I asked. "How exactly do you figure I did anything to us?"

She pushed a piece of hair behind my ear. "Because, honey, I love you, and so we're going to deal with the aftermath of this weekend together. I'm busy. And still itchy. I hardly have time for this." She raised her eyebrows, a corner of her lip quirking up. She was trying to make me smile. It worked. I loved her.

"Now sit. I'll get you a cup of coffee and you tell me all the details. I don't have to be at class until eleven." Abby was in school at one of the best culinary institutes in the D.C. area. Her cooking was to die for. If I ever indulged, it was to try out one of her recipes. I was never disappointed. We had met on a roommate search site when I had first moved to D.C and not only hit it off as roommates, but had become best friends as well. She was funny and sweet and just slightly outrageous when she wanted to be. She was good for me. She was my third sister.

She poured me a cup of coffee and added cream and sugar to it and put it in front of me. I wrapped my hands around the warm mug and brought it to my mouth, taking a small sip of the hot liquid.

Abby studied me. "At least tell me you didn't fall in love with him, honey," she said quietly.

"It was a weekend, Abby," I said back quietly as well, looking away from her.

She stared into my eyes. "Oh shit. You idiot. You totally did! You fell in love with the p**n star!" She groaned, leaning back and sliding down in her chair. "Oh God, this is worse than I thought. When you let loose, you really go all out, don't you girlfriend? Holy crapola."

"Abby, I didn't fall in love in two days. I just… I care about him. I didn't want to say goodbye," I said miserably.

"Start at the beginning, hon. I want a play-by-play, and I know you're sad, but don't gloss over sexytimes."

I laughed and then sniffled. "You're really a perv, you know that?"

"Uh huh. I make no apologies. Now go."

We talked until she had to shower and leave for class. I cried a little more. Then I went into my room, did a face plant on my bed, and didn't wake up until Abby was walking back in the door at six that night.

**********

Carson

I went straight from the airport to the hotel where my shoot was being held, knowing that I could shower there. They'd need to prep me for the cameras anyway. I was used to the drill.

I had barely slept for two hours the night before, listening to every sound in the hallway, hoping against hope that Grace would decide to come back. There was no way I could go to her after the way we'd parted… we had said our goodbyes. I couldn't make it any harder on her. But, I thought maybe she'd change her mind and decide to stay just one more night with me. And so instead of going to the airport like I'd thought about, I stayed in the room where she'd know I'd be. But she hadn't come back. I understood. It still sucked. And the worst part of it all was that I missed her in a way I'd never missed anyone else before. Every instinct in me told me to charge after her, claim her as mine. But we had gone over it. It wasn't possible. Our lives didn't mesh, and there was nothing we could do right now to make that happen.