I confess that making him that angry was a turn-on at times. If I could get him to lose it and then rein him in at just the right moment, the passion he unleashed was insane. He’d pin me to the bed and kiss me so hard it hurt, choking back his anger and redirecting it gratefully to something more satisfying than screaming obscenities at each other.
Sometimes I missed the mark and pushed him too far. That night was one of those. And then, for the first time, he didn’t call me an hour later, crying. That reaction from him always made me cry, too, and we’d blubber apologies and reaffirm our love and the need to see each other even if it was 3 a.m.
I waited, but he never called. Two days later, I was in a panic. I didn’t want to call first and appear weak, but I was breaking down. I missed him. I wanted his forgiveness. I also wanted him to need me more than anything, and if he was staying away, that wasn’t the case.
So I went out to a club with a couple of costars from the last film—girls in their early twenties who felt sorry for my little fifteen-year-old breakup woes. I had no problem passing myself off as legal with the right makeup, clothes, attitude, and a top-notch fake ID. Being fawned over by older guys didn’t help like I thought it would, though.
I was close to grabbing a taxi to Reid’s house and begging his forgiveness when I noticed a guy with a camera. Failing in his attempt to be subtle, he was hiding behind a post that didn’t quite conceal his girth. I knew he’d be spotted and shown the door any second. As he zeroed in on my friends, I decided on a different, stronger course of action. I would make Reid crazy with jealousy, and then he’d come back to me.
I found a hot guy, pulled him onto the dance floor and performed every degrading dirty dancing move I could think of on him. I incorporated things I’d seen my mom do on the stripper pole she had installed in the extra bedroom for “exercise,” and the photog recorded it all. Reid and I weren’t big time, but we were cute together, and Hollywood liked us. I had no idea that being idolized also meant people were salivating over the moment we’d split up and how it would happen. I was just desperate to make Reid cave first.
The article online the next day made me out to be the biggest whore imaginable—so sad, she’s so young—while Reid was cast as the naïve boy who had no idea what his slutty girlfriend had been doing behind his back.
Out that night, and the next, and the next, Reid was photographed leaving clubs, parties and hot spots with a swarm of different girls until there was no doubt in my mind that we were done and he was over me.
I cried for two weeks. I barely ate. I couldn’t sleep. I wanted to call and tell him I hadn’t been with anyone else, that it was all a ruse. But I was hurt and resentful, knowing that was no longer true for him. My mother, fresh into her separation from Rick, sat me down and told me that the only way to get over a guy like that is to get a new one. I heeded her advice, but couldn’t settle down to any one guy. And I couldn’t exorcise Reid from my head.
That’s when I met Graham, who resisted and spurned me. No one rejected me, not when I was offering straight up no-strings screwing around. We were on location not too far from LA, just beginning to film a movie. I’d known Graham for a week, and I already detested him for his high-handed dismissal.
And then I figured out that it had been a while since I’d had a period. I peed on a stick and was stunned to find out I was pregnant. Abortion? No problem. Sign me up. Until the doctor said how far along I was—almost ten weeks.
Which meant it was Reid’s. Absolutely Reid’s. I told them I couldn’t do it. Not when my mother pleaded with me not to ruin my career. Not when my father was called in to order me to comply (because yeah, that’s always worked on me).
“I’ve made the appointment, and we’re going tomorrow,” Mom said, as though I had no opinion in the matter.
“Be a good girl and listen to your mother,” my father added.
I hated them both.
Graham heard me crying in my trailer that night, and knocked on the door. I don’t know why, but I took one look at those warm brown eyes and I told him everything.
Holding me while I cried, he told me that he and his ex-girlfriend were having a baby in a few months. She was planning to hand it to him and walk away, but he was hoping for a reconciliation.
“Brooke, this might be the most important decision you ever make. It doesn’t matter if you didn’t plan this—there’s a choice to make, and you should make it. Decide what’s right for you, whatever that is, and then do it.”
No one had ever said that to me before, and here was this boy, who wasn’t quite a year older than me, sounding so wise and sure. Of course, I know now that in that moment, Graham still had completely undeserved faith in Zoe, so he wasn’t exactly the soul of discernment he appeared to be. Still, he had a point about taking over the decisions for your own life. That was the moment I started doing just that.
If I’m capable of loving anyone, it has to be Graham.
The ends justify the means, right? The ends justify the means.
Me: I’m in town for a couple of days. Meetings over that fall project. Dinner?
Graham: Bad week. I’ve got finals and papers due through friday. When are you leaving?
Me: Early friday. :(
Graham: Damn, not the sad face! I could maybe get away for an hour or so tomorrow?
Me: Yes please! :) Text me your address and I’ll pick you up at eight.
*** *** ***
REID
Brooke: We’re having dinner tomorrow night. Photos should be up thursday. Make sure she sees them.