The Intern: Vol. 3 (4 page)

Part Two

Chapter Six

Cecilia

There
’s a reason your past is supposed to stay in the past. There’s a reason you want to forget. There’s a reason the past hurts.

Isn
’t time supposed to heal all wounds?

Well…twelve months
hasn’t done shit.

Forgetting about Bentley Leighton
is next to impossible. No matter what I did to distract myself, no matter who I befriended, or how many ‘dates’ I went out on—it’s his face I see every day.

No, literally.

Six months after leaving his office for the last time, his perfect square-jaw, and his intense eyes surrounded by his golden, messy locks were plastered everywhere. Billboards, magazine ads, E! News, T.V. Commercials.

Every-fucking-where.

Back to his roots, America’s sexy-as-sin bad boy was back in full force—the press’s words, not mine—doing international shoots, exclusive interviews, and promoting all the newest and high-end products such as underwear, expensive clothing, men’s hair products, and even foreign cars. If it cost more than my tuition, he’s promoting it.

At first, I was happy for him. I was happy he went after what truly made
him
happy. I could always tell he was meant for that lifestyle. He was meant to be in the spotlight.

After reading the
first dozen tabloid magazines about his exclusive lifestyle of partying, girls, and wild drinking, I was done reading them. I couldn’t without crying. I kept thinking about who he was taking to bed, who he was giving himself to, if he were missing me, or even thinking of me…

Of course not.

I didn’t deserve to be on his radar, and I’ve accepted that. We were supposed to move on. However, it’s next to impossible when your biggest mistake, biggest regret is constantly around taunting you.

As long as he
’s happy.

As long as
he is with someone who makes him happy.

As long as he
’s moved on from the damage I caused…I’m happy for him.

Or so I keep telling myself.

*   *   *

I was no more than just a shell, living on autopilot to get through my first year of college. A shell filled with regret and heartbreak.

I’ve adjusted to my new lifestyle—college classes, working part-time on campus, studying, and hanging with friends. I look like your average college student, doing average college things, but I’m anything but average.

I was able to fool my roommate for the past year, but now I was packing up and heading back home for the summer. Casey graduated college last year and moved to California to pursue her sudden dream of acting.
Threw Mom for a loop, but who was she to hold her back…so she gave Casey her blessing and helped pack her bags. So now, it’ll just be Nathan, Mom, and me.
Oh joy.

“
Can you believe we survived our first year? Holy shit. I can’t believe how fast it went,” my roommate, Katelynn gushes as she tapes up her last box. “I’m going to miss this place.”

I turn to scowl at her.
“You’re going to miss this?” I wave my hands around. “This ten by ten prison cell?”

“
Okay, so it’s a little small…but that just made us closer.” She smiles genuinely. She’s the polar opposite of me, which is how I made it through my first year of college in the first place. Even when I tried to push her away, she never let me get too far.

“
Perhaps a little too close, Kate.” I grin at her as I nod my head toward her bed.

“
You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?” She narrows her eyebrows at me.

“
Probably not.” I laugh. “Hey, I’m all for self-pleasure. You want to use a vibrator to get your cookies off, more power to you. Just warn me next time so I can put my headphones in.” I smirk at her, making her cheeks blush.

“
I’m so glad we’re going to be hundreds of miles apart.” She turns and plops a suitcase on her bed.

“
No, you’re not. Stop lying.”

“
All right, fine. I’ll miss you having my coffee ready for me every morning,” she mocks, turning around to face me.

“
And I will miss all your Internet stalkers.”

She wrinkles her nose at me.
“There was only two.”

“
I don’t know why you sent them away. I mean, panty-sniffer is probably my favorite.” I cock my head to the side as if I’m really thinking about it. “Or rather, I don’t know. It’s a close tie.”

She makes a gagging noise and turns around, hiding her embarrassment.
“I’m never online dating again,” she confesses.

I laugh at how easily it is to make her blush.
“Sure, sure. This time next year you’ll be married and pregnant with your second child.”

“
That’s hardly possible, Cecilia,” she groans. “I’m going to become an old cat lady instead.”

“
Well, hope you’ll have a spare bedroom for me. Most likely we’ll be growing old together with all our damn cats.”

We laugh together at all the bad luck we
’ve had in the dating department this year. Not that I’ve really tried or even really
wanted
to date, but I went on double dates for her sake. Let’s just say I won’t be doing that again.

“
I’ll miss you,” I say softly. I spin around and face her. “You’ve been a good friend to me.”

She faces me with her arms spread wide.
“No getting emotional,” she teases. “C’mon, let’s hug it out.”

I laugh.
“Hug it out? We don’t hug it out. Or get emotional.”

She shrugs, not giving up.
“I know. But you can’t be a brick wall forever.”

“
I’m not a brick wall,” I counter as she swoops in anyway and squeezes me tightly.

“
I’m gonna miss you, too, Cecilia. You’re pretty awesome when you wanna be.”

“
Thanks.” I laugh, knowing she’s completely honest. I wasn’t exactly the nicest roommate in the beginning. Still reeling from losing Bentley and the news of my dad followed me to college just weeks after I last saw him. But she never gave up on me—she made sure I opened up.

“
North Dakota isn’t that far. We could meet up half way, if you wanted,” she offers. “I could take a weekend off.”

“
Sounds good.” I smile. “I’m going to look for a job just to get out of the house, so a weekend away already sounds perfect.

*   *   *

What the hell is so significant about ten years?
Ten years.

It explains why my mother kept the note hidden, but was she ever planning
to tell us? Was she ever going to let us see what was in the lock box?

It didn
’t matter anymore.

Everyone important in my life has
left or
walked away.
I have Simon and Cora, but after high school, we all went in different directions. I went to the University of Nebraska—
for real this time
—Cora went to South Florida, and Simon got a full scholarship for some study abroad thing in London. We kept in touch through emails and texts, but it wasn’t the same as being together. I missed my best friends.

I drive home in a haze. I haven
’t seen my mother since Christmas. I didn’t bother to come home for Easter since Katelynn wasn’t leaving either. She begged me to stay with her since most of the campus was going to be closed for spring break.

She didn
’t have to beg very hard.

My mother and mine
’s relationship hasn’t gotten any better, nor have I tried. She holds information about my dad and refuses to tell me—she’s lucky I’m even coming home at all.

The house is empty when I arrive. Go figure. She didn
’t even take off the day I was coming home from my first year of college. Not that I should’ve expected her to.

I wheel my suitcases in and look around. Nothing
’s changed in the five months since I’ve been here. Everything is always in its proper spot, not a dish out of place.

I decide to take a shower and unpack a few of my things. I put all my clothes in the basket, mentally reminding myself to do laundry later. I walk around my old room, feeling out of place for the first time in my entire life. It was still my room, but why didn
’t it feel like mine anymore?

I sit on my bed
and reflect over the past year. So much has changed that I’m not even sure I’ve mentally caught up yet.

What a difference
twelve months make.

New school. New friends.

New everything.

Chapter Seven

Bentley

Watching Cecilia walk out of my office twelve months ago shot a dagger through my heart. As much as I wanted to hate her for what she did, I couldn
’t.

I was no longer
falling
for her.

I had fallen.

But none of that mattered anymore. We went our separate ways, living our separate lives. I haven’t seen or heard from her since. And why would I? There was no way to repair what had been broken…

Or so I had reminded myself for the last three hundred and sixty-five
plus days.

At first, I wanted to scream at myself for how stupid I was to ever let Ceci get that close to me. I should
’ve known better—should’ve held my guard, but it was inevitable. My body had noticed her before my mind had a chance to catch up.

Looking back over those weeks, I should
’ve seen it. The signs were there. The last name, the recommendation letter, her hiding in my office.
God.
So fucking stupid.

I resigned shortly after that. I knew I was letting my father down,
so what was the point? My father didn’t trust me after I told him about Ceci—fucking up twice in two years will do that to you. I had failed him, and better yet, I had failed myself. I wasn’t there for the right reasons, and it was time I do what I really was meant to do.

I had to start living
my life for
me
.

When fall arrived, I
’d wake up before the sunset. It would be freezing out, but I didn’t care. It cleared my head, giving me validation that I was alive—that I could feel even after all the damage that’s been done.

I thought about her every morning as I ran. I thought about the first time I saw her, the first time I fucked her, the first time I woke up and she was in my arms.
All the shit that was built on lies and deception.
All the reasons I needed to clear her out of my head for good.

*   *   *

With my headphones in and hoodie up, I sit back and look out the window. We’re flying to Brazil now—another photo shoot by some famous photographer that my agent, Angie set up.
It’s good for PR,
she always said.
It’s good for your image,
she’d continue.

Sure. Whatever.

No matter how far away I am, or how many miles I put between her and me, it doesn’t matter. I still feel her. And worse,
I miss her.

I thought this would help me get over her. Get over what happened—the lies, the betrayal, the fucking heartbreak. If anything, it
’s made me numb. Completely numb.

My phone beeps through my headphones and I see it
’s a text from Angie.
Landing in 20.

Finally.

I’ve been living on planes and in hotel rooms for the past six months. It’s made it easier at least. Easier to keep her off my mind, but with the long flights, my mind tends to wander.

Feeling the plane prepare for it
’s landing, I think of her. I think of the times we spent together, the times we snuck around in my office, the times we skipped dinner and went right for dessert. I think of all the times that I thought of telling her how I really felt about her—how I had fallen for her. However,
I
wasn’t even sure I grasped it then. Once the truth came out, all those feelings turned to ice, making the rest of me frozen and unable to feel anything at all.

Although modeling has its perks, it
’s insanely isolating. It’s numbing—which is perfect.

As a model, the media and press want every inch of you, every secret,
and every intimate detail. The best part of being in the spotlight is having agents and representatives do all the talking for you. I sign autographs, wave, and do as I’m told—without having to attach to anyone.

The partying
used to be something I wanted. It was the main reason I hadn’t wanted to work for my father just yet, but now it was a chore. Now it was
business.
Or networking, as Angie reminded me.

“
Let’s go.”

We walk off the private plane and
toward the stretch limo. It’s past midnight, so luckily, it’s dark out, and no paparazzi will be around.

Angie follows me into the limo
and hands me my schedule. It’s packed solid for the next week—shoots and interviews. Being off the modeling grid for two years was almost ‘career suicide’ as what I’ve been reminded of for the past six months. Luckily, my agency was eager to have me back and to represent me. It’s not something that’s common in this field. Once you leave, you’re usually out for good.

We
arrive at the hotel, which is more of a palace. I follow Angie’s lead and make sure to keep my head down as we walk in. After check in, she hands me my key and leaves me alone for the rest of the night.

This is basically my life. Flying from country to country, living in hotels, being alone. Rinse, wash, and repeat.

But I can’t say I regret it. I’m doing something I love, something I’m good at doing. I just wish I could feel happier about it…and stop thinking about the
what if’s
and
if only.

I work
relentlessly the entire week in Brazil. Angie keeps my schedule packed enough that it doesn’t take much for me to pass right out each night. Some of the events last until two or three in the morning, meaning I only get five or six hours of sleep before doing it all over again.

I
’m relieved when we finally arrive back in the states. I plan to hibernate in my condo for at least a week until I get over this jetlag.

By the fourth day in a row o
f eating Chinese take-out, I finally drag my ass to the shower. The hot water pours over my skin, burning the flesh until it’s bright red. But I don’t care. My thoughts take me back to the times Ceci joined me in the shower. The way her body would press up against me while goose bumps would appear over her skin. The way she’d bend over in front of me and spread her delicious legs just for me. No matter how much I try to erase those memories, they fly right back in.

My cock stands at attention as I visual
ize her on her knees, mouth wide open for me. God, she looked perfect like that. So damn beautiful. So anxious to please me. And so fucking good at it, too.

I firmly wrap my hand around my cock. I stroke it as I think about
her, her lips wrapped around me, her perfect wet mouth. Her tongue would slide from my shaft to the tip. She’d repeat the motion several times over before I could no longer take it and she’d finally push it into her mouth.

My hands would flock to her head as I yanked her hair in my fists. She
’d release the sexiest moans I’ve ever heard as she swallowed every drop of me.

My hand strokes my cock harder as I think about the way she
’d look up at me. She loved watching what she did to me, the control she had over me at that moment.

I pump my fist more aggressively until the skin
is raw. I envision her face as I release into my palm. My body shakes as the water streams down my body and washes away all the evidence—the memories I should be letting fade down the drain.

I grab my bottle of whiskey and shot glass and walk to the kitchen. It needs some serious TLC with all of the take out boxes and silverware scattered everywhere. But, as usual, it reminds me of Ceci.

A year later and she still consumes my life.

I lean up against the counter and tilt my head back as I take a shot. As the liquid burns its way down my throat, I relive the moments Ceci and I have had in this kitchen.

The naked moments.

The fun, playing around moments.

The moments we were just Bentley and Ceci.

Those moments were now gone.

After my fourth
shot, I still can’t stop thinking about her. Her scent. Her laugh. The adorable way she woke me up already riding me.

“
Fuck!” I slam my shot glass down and tilt my body against the counter, my hands the only thing keeping me up as I feel like crumbling to the ground.

She may have lied like Hannah. Deceived me like Hannah. Hell, she even fed me the same bullshit as Hannah—but she
wasn’t
Hannah.

I didn
’t feel this way.

I didn
’t break.

I didn
’t want her back after finding out what she did.

No matter how much I
try to distract myself with kickboxing and modeling, it’s never enough. She’s always on my mind—since the last time I saw her.

I push myself off the counter and grab my keys and head out my front door.

It’s lightly sprinkling out, but I can tell it’s going to start pouring soon. I brush a hand through my hair, shaking it out as I get in my car and start the engine.

The nerves
catch up to me before I realize what I’m even doing.
I find myself parked on the opposite side of her street. She might not even live here anymore for all I know. It’s an impulsive move, but that doesn’t stop me.

The moment I see another car
pull up, my body instantly reacts—my heart races faster and my skin feels as if it’s on fire. It’s far enough out of view that I can’t see the driver, but the anticipation of seeing her is strong enough to kill me.

I grip the door handle about to step out when I see her exit the front door of her house. I look back to the car and
see a guy exiting the car.
Shit
. She runs full speed toward him, screaming something, and wrapping her entire body around him—her arms clamp around his neck and her legs wrap around his hips. She’s laughing and screaming as he spins her around like you see in some cliché, cheesy chick film.

She
’s stunning. Her hair is longer, but she looks exactly the same. Her eyes light up and her lips form into a wide smile as she eyes him. She’s obviously excited to see whoever the hell this fucker is.

I let go of the handle and ball my hands into fists.
Son-of-a-bitch.
I should’ve known. It’s been over a year, she isn’t still thinking of me. Why would she?

Cue the anger,
insecurity, self-pity, and heartbreak—it all comes at the same time my heart cracks even more—parallel to the regret that’s building up inside.

Clearly, I
’m dreaming this.

Or drunker than I thought.

As I jerk the car back into drive, I watch as the guy puts her down and lays a kiss on her mouth.
Bastard
. I race down the street needing to get out of there as soon as possible. What was I thinking? Why after all this time was she still on my mind? Why couldn’t I fuck any girl after her? The realization frustrated me. I slam my hand against the steering wheel wondering when I allowed myself to become this person.

New strategy
—focus on work. Find a hook up. Get a fucking clue.