𝐱𝐢𝐢.
𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧
─── ⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ ───

I've never fallen for someone before.

Not fully, at least.

But now I can feel myself slipping.

Dangling at the edge of a cliff where I could either fall to my death, or be wrapped in sanguine bliss—untouched by self-doubt, and disappointment.

There's no guarantee when it comes to relationships.

So to avoid all the emotions that come with them I've made a habit of never being in a real one.

Fake relationships? I can do that. It's easy to pretend. Acting has become instinctual for me now.

But when it comes to Elara I can see myself with her. Actually with her. Not just for sex. Not just out of convenience due to our situation. Like I'd told her only an hour ago, she's different, and I don't want to act around her anymore because of it.

Especially when she looks at me like she knows I'm acting. Like she can see me.

There are times when she's talking and all I want to do is kiss her. I watch the movement of her lips as she speaks, wishing it was my mouth tracing across her subtle cupids bow instead of my eyes.

Then there are conversations like tonight when I listen earnestly. I genuinely want to talk to her, get to know her. See her as more than just Elara Stewart: one of Darling Devil's most precious girls. More than that headshot placed in front of me all those weeks ago.

Then there's Ryan.

Does she care about him? The whole reason we're in this 'relationship' is to get back at both of them, so does he still mean something to her? Even after everything he's done? Searing hot anger presses itself against my temples at the thought of that piece-of-shit excuse of a man.

Since I've never felt this way toward anyone it's been difficult for me to fully process.

These feelings, foreign and new, come as a shock.

And Jeremy's comment after the other producers had left for the night didn't help matters either.

"She's not like the others, is she?"

No. She's not.

I don't have to tell him either. My silence is an answer in itself.

Within a few hours, we'll be shooting our second scene together. The first was difficult. Not in a bad way. Well—sort of. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to stop once we started.

Thankfully, I had.

But this time I don't think I'll be able to. Not after all of these feelings started to flood through my entire being, spreading a fog over my mind whenever she's near.

How do people even think when they're around her?

All thoughts seemed to vanish as soon as I set my eyes on her. As if she automatically sets a spell on me whenever she enters a room, so potent and strong that when her gaze latches onto mine I'm unable to break away.

"She's got you whipped, man." Says the dark-haired drummer casually lounging on a swivel chair, puffing on a blunt.

I glare at him. He shoots me a smug look, knowing he's right without having to say anything more.

Jeremy exhales a large cloud of smoke as he passes it to me.

"Yeah. She does." I admit hesitantly.

"So, does this mean you'll bring her around? I want to meet her," I pause with the blunt midway to my mouth. My glare sharpens, causing him to raise his hands defensively. "When my best friend gets a girl he really cares about it's only natural to want to meet her. This never happens."

He's not wrong.

I relax back into the leather couch against the wall only a few feet away from him. I take a long drag, relishing in the adequate burn that trails down my throat and into my lungs.

"I invited her to swing by sometime," I say on an exhale.

A foggy sheen has begun to permeate the air inside the studio—although, calling it a studio is a bit of a stretch. It's a fairly large room in my basement that I converted into my studio years ago. I'd gotten tired of having to travel into the city to make music.

He raises a brow. "And when will that be?"

"Whenever she feels like it," I say, shrugging.

Jeremy clicks his tongue, then nods. "Very precise." He states sarcastically.

"I'll let you know. How's that sound?" I take another hit.

He takes a second to think. "I guess that'll work."

A silence settles as I exhale, and lean over the arm of the three-seater to flick the tightly wrapped blunt over the ashtray.

Sharing how I'd felt with Elara felt therapeutic. I've never felt more relieved than I had in that moment. I have more shit to get off my chest, years worth of shit I still don't like to think about. I should find a therapist.

But for now, Jeremy will do, at least until I'm alone again with Elara.

"I'm nervous about tomorrow."

He seems taken aback at my openness but recovers quickly. "Another freaky scene?"

A scowl pulls at my features at his choice of words. "Yes."

Jeremy plucks the blunt from my hand. Cherry blazing, it leaves a streak of bright red in its wake until he lowers his arm to rest on the chair.

"You 'hired' her for the video, right?" He asks as he studies the brown tobacco paper, surveying his work. "Before you met her?"

I nod.

"So just think of it as a business transaction."

If only he knew how much that word irritates the fuck out of me now. Business.

"It's not about business anymore, Jer," he frowns, and I continue. "It was. But now it's not."

"So... it's not fake?" He asks.

For a split second I could've sworn there was a glimmer of hope in his eyes at the thought, but confusion overpowers it.

When I'd told Jeremy about Elara and me, he wasn't too enthusiastic about the idea. Knowing my past with Mel, and all. Trading a fake relationship for another fake relationship with someone else. A fair opinion.

"Yes—and no. I don't know." I run both hands through my hair as if the motion alone will wipe away my conflicting thoughts. "It's complicated."

"Why don't you talk to her about it?"

"That's what I went over there to do. I did, I mean I started to, but then I just—kind of shut down. I'm not good at talking." Jeremy gives me a very doubtful look that says I'm full of shit. "About my feelings." I reiterate. He nods once, satisfied with my answer.

I can talk about my past like it's written in history books like it's something that can be recited. I think I detach myself from each memory whenever I speak about it, which makes it easier to an extent. But when it dials down to how those moments in my life have made me feel, it's hard to form an explanation out loud. I'm not used to processing raw emotions.

Whenever I'd start, I'd bury myself in substances, music, and women as temporary distractions when it got too overwhelming.

Since hard drugs are off the table for the foreseeable future—hopefully forever, but that's what I said last time, and I'd rather not jinx my life again—I'd fallen right back on my regular bodies after Mel left me to be with Ryan.

It started off great. I'd rotate, just like I'd always done. Then... it got weird. Like—fucked up kind of weird.

I started to see her face.

Dark, lustrous green eyes full of desire looking at me through dazed, hooded lids. So close that I could count each freckle on her nose. Feel her breath mix with mine in small, desperate pants, nails planted deep into the flesh of my back. Hear her whisper my name in the dark.

Then my eyes opened, and she was gone. In her place was someone else who wasn't her.

I haven't had sex since. And it hasn't been easy for me, to say the least.

Without women to distract me it's either music or...

"Well, when you trust someone enough, opening up to them gets easier. Almost like second nature." He states knowingly as he takes another hit. When it comes to relationships, he isn't exactly the most knowledgeable. But he has a family to go off of, and my mom's occasional boyfriends aren't exactly the best examples to base my own on.

Jeremy is the only true friend I have.

He's stayed with me through it all. Every drug-induced episode, every failed 'relationship', every scandal. The same can be said for me, too. We've been there for each other through the past five years. Sometimes I think he knows me better than I know myself—and vice versa.

"And you're a reliable source because...?" My wrist rotates in circles, motioning for him to explain. Jeremy lets out a laugh.

"You have a point." He pushes his feet against the floor, causing the chair to propel toward the end table where the ashtray resides. "But I do too."

"Yeah, you do," I admit.

After a pause, Jeremy chuckles to himself.

My eyes narrow at him. "What?"

"I just never thought I'd hear you say that you're nervous to kiss a woman."

I shake my head and kick the edge of his chair, struggling to keep my lips pressed in a flat line, failing miserably. His cackling only intensifies at my reaction.

It's not just any woman though, is it?

It's Elara.

──༺⋆✮⋆༻──

As soon as her lips press into mine, I know I'm done for.

We dove right into the second scene.

Both of us are peppered with sand as we stand at the ocean shore, feet wet and clothes damp after multiple takes.

Fuck, Elara's mouth tastes phenomenal.

It's all I've been able to think about since I purposely fucked up our last take. And the one before that. I've been fucking them all up just to kiss her again. Longer. Forever if she'd let me.

Jeremy's right. He always is. I'm whipped.

But she doesn't hesitate. Doesn't pull back. She reciprocates. Whether it's because we have to or because in this moment, she wants to—needs to, I can't exactly tell.

But from the way her hands get lost in my hair, twining and gathering fistfuls between her fingers, and the way that she's kissing—as if no one's watching, makes me feel like she's just as disoriented as I am. How my own hands glide up her hips as she pulls me impossibly close... our bodies working together, melding perfectly to one another.

This take, though, is different.

Like she's finally loosened up a bit. Matching pace, her hands venture to places they hadn't in the previous takes. They roam across my back and hesitate on my shoulder blades. Then around and up my chest, before settling to my hair; the safe zone. Her nails feather delicately across the nape of my neck—sending an electric current down the entirety of my spine.

And the way her kiss slows, as if finally giving in to a deep-seated temptation she's been pushing down this entire time, she fully succumbs.

The crew vanishes.

So do the sounds of distant seagulls, the ground beneath our feet. Just us. But, at the same time, not just us. We've become something bigger—expanding, exploding, further expanding upon an unexplored universe. One I'd contentedly traverse through.

The thought should scare me. But I push it aside. Thinking of her, and only her. How much I've actively denied myself of this moment. How I want to savor every second.

As I'm about to sink deeper, sharp pain erupts across my bottom lip.

My eyes immediately snap open, wide, and confused. I'm now hyperaware of my surroundings. Everything comes back all at once. Warping me through space, and time, back to solid ground. Our bubble is gone.

I blink down at her. Still inches apart, still close enough. The temptation to push all caution and pain aside to continue what we started grows with each passing second. But I just... stare back, stunned into silence.

My tongue darts over pierced flesh. The taste of metallic copper traverses through my mouth as I wipe a drop of blood that'd dripped down my chin.

She bit me.

If we were alone...

While my mind's been entirely elsewhere for the past few seconds, thoughts still evade me as I scramble to think of what I'm supposed to do next.

Elara, effectively ending my haziness, flattens her hands on my chest and pushes herself out of my arms. Then, just as the script depicts, she reaches for the center of my chest—where the CGI effects will show her ripping my heart from my ribcage.

I feign shock—though I don't have to act this out since I'm already pretty shaken—at the unexpected action, and fall to my knees.

"Cut!" Mark yells from his director's chair. "Perfect! Loved the improv Elara. Alright everyone, let's move on."

I stand, locking onto Elara's gaze. My lips part. To my horror, the words that I want to say don't spill from my mouth.

Since when am I ever at such a loss for fucking words?

"I'm—," She shakes her head.

"Don't mention it." Even she looks discombobulated, cheeks a flustered shade of pink, brows creased.

Her beauty irks me. Particularly when her features twist with emotions that aren't supposed to look so fucking attractive. Elara can make any expression look hot without trying.

The urge to instill some very impure intentions upon her grows significantly while I study her face.

If she hadn't bitten my lip. Hadn't pushed me away before cinematically ripping through the center of my chest, I would've kept going.

I didn't want to stop. I couldn't.

She knows it, too. She has to.

We set up for the next scene and when action is called, I watch as she backs away, fake heart dripping crimson liquid down her tanned skin. She fully submerges into the ocean, waits for the water to still, then pops up for air.

Another 'cut' calls from feet away.

Once she's back on the beach she breaks into a semi-run until she reaches Mark. I follow after a crew member had finished helping me brush the sand from my body.

I arrive in time to see Elara bite my lip in HD on the screen.

"Ouch," Mark hisses on an inhale. "Didn't that hurt?" He says. He turns to me, inquisitive look painting his aged appearance.

I shrug. "A bit." It did. She drew blood for fucks sake.

He chuckles and claps my bare arm. I flash him a half-smile, then look back to the monitor. Back at Elara and her ethereal outfit that wardrobe had dressed her in. Close-ups of the costume flash before us. Pearls of all different shapes and sizes ooze down the entirety of her body, clinging to her in all of the right places, including the nude, very revealing bikini underneath the brown fishnet material of her shimmering coverup.

Get your shit together Derek.

I just need to learn to keep my composure in check when she's around. I have to.

During conflicting moments like these, I need to take a walk to clear my head and debrief with my best friend. Jeremy always knows what to do when I don't.

I excuse myself and walk along the shoreline, phone in hand as it rings. He picks up on the fourth.

"Aren't you supposed to be working right now?" He questions suggestively.

"Hello to you too," My gaze drifts to the ocean waves lapping at the bottom of my feet. I watch as it starts to foam, then slowly drifts backward. "I'm supposed to be."

"So... why aren't you?"

My throat tightens. As if it's trying to force the words that ache to be spoken out loud even further within myself, where they'll never see the light of day. Just say it, you'll feel better.

"She bit my lip."

Jeremy chuckles. "If you're trying to make me jealous, it's not working."

"Jer."

"Yeah?" He drawls.

Mind racing, I try to find a better way to explain it without actively admitting anything damning.

"I couldn't stop kissing her."

"Well, you're filming a scene where you're supposed to be kissing her. Isn't that a good thing?" He says as if blatantly stating the obvious.

"I purposely fucked up takes to keep kissing her. And on the last one I would've kept going if she hadn't busted my lip open with her teeth."

"Jesus—who is this woman?" He sounds as if he's unsure whether to be impressed on her behalf or be concerned for me.

"I don't know man, but she's driving me insane,"

There's crackling for a moment, like he's digging through a bag of chips, before he responds. "I think you need to get laid."

His sentence stops me dead in my tracks.

"What did you just say?"

There's more shuffling on the other end. "C'mon, Derek. You've been in the studio a lot more lately. More than you have been in a long ass time. For hours. You're even up all night mixing beats. You hate mixing beats." It's true. The tedious process of making sure all aspects of a song meld perfectly together really tests my already thin fucking patience as of late. But mixing keeps me from other vices that I'd like to avoid at all costs. "I'm not dumb. I know when something's up with you. Plus, you get all cranky and shit when you haven't been with someone in a while."

My eyes settle on the horizon as I grimace. "I do not."

"Yes, you do." Jeremy asserts.

A sigh passes through my lips. The open cut from Elara's teeth burns as the air aggressively brushes past it. I roll my tongue across the sensitive wound, attempting to soothe. It'll be swollen by the time I wake up tomorrow morning.

"I can't."

There's a pause. Brief, yet simultaneously long. Then; loud as a crack of lightning, laughter bursts from the speaker and I wince again, pulling the phone an inch away from my face to save my eardrums.

I wait as his laughing slowly simmers to a chortle. "Oh, you're not serious are you?"

When I don't respond the laughing ceases altogether.

"Why can't you?"

"It's not that I physically can't. More like, I won't." I can practically hear his bewildered expression.

Silence passes for several beats. "Who are you and what have you done with the real Derek?"

I shake my head, twisting around to glimpse back at the blonde who persistently plagues my every thought. Even from yards away my eyes easily find her. The size of an ant from this distance, yet I can still make out her slender figure.

As if sensing my gaze, her head turns in my direction. Fuck me. My breath catches at being caught. But I don't look away. Neither does she.

"You really want to know? Because I won't hold back."

"Depends... do I?" He sounds hesitant. I give him a moment to backtrack, but he doesn't say anything else so I do just as I said I would.

"Mid-fuck with Trina, I had to keep my eyes closed because—," I pause, stare heating, still fixed on the distant silhouette. "I couldn't stop thinking about Elara. I didn't intend on thinking about her the entire time, but it just kind of happened."

"Dude, that's fucked." Jeremy exhales.

"Thanks, Jer. Tell me something I don't know?"

He sighs. "I mean, I get it I guess. But if I'm being completely honest, you gotta sort that shit out." I finally tear my eyes away, down to the sand, teeth grinding.

"I'm trying. I haven't fucked with anyone since because it feels—wrong."

"Yeah, and that's working so well for you." Jer's words drip with sarcasm. I let out a groan of frustration.

Ignoring my irritation, Jeremy continues. "Look. Either you talk to Elara and possibly get lucky with her, or settle for second best and hit up Trina. Or we can go out tonight, for old time's sake. Find someone new."

Me, out in public with a busted lip? The press would have a field day. I can practically hear them greedily rubbing their hands together, thinking of all the ways they can twist my injury into some elaborate story.

"I'm not in the mood to go out tonight."

"Still. You have to talk to her eventually. If you keep running around it..."

"I know," I look up to see Elara striding through the sand heading—in my direction. "I'll call you back later."

"Sure, man."

By the time I hang up, she stops a few feet away from me. Her pearls glint off the setting sun that hangs severely low in the sky, barely peaking over the ocean now.

"Are you alright?" She asks softly, then points up at her bottom lip. "Your lip, I mean."

I nod. "I'll survive."

Her other hand, holding an ice pack and a cloth, extends in front of her. I muster a faint smile and thank her as I take the ice from her.

"I guess I didn't exactly know my strength until I saw that I drew blood." She says sympathetically. Her gaze is attentive, studying my bottom lip in a way that ignites my entire body on fucking fire.

"And I had no idea you could be so aggressive." My tone makes her avert my eyes and stains her cheeks a pretty shade of pink.

She clears her throat and raises the remaining cloth in her hand. "May I?" Elara draws a straight line down to her chin. I tilt my head down, eager to feel her skin against mine again.

Her left-hand cups the underside of my jaw as the other slowly dabs in the spot she had gestured to.

I survey her angelic features when she leans in close, brushing the cloth with tentative gentleness. So close... just like I'd seen her that night with my eyes shut. Freckles lightly splotch the bridge of her nose and the tops of her cheeks. Some stand out more than others, while a majority of them are soft, delicate, and can't be seen from far away, reminding me of stars in the night sky.

"Thank you," I say once she finishes.

Jeremy's words bounce off the impenetrable walls of my skull. Say something, idiot.

"Mhm." She folds the cloth into fours. "They want us back for some candid shots, you know, to advertise on our socials."

"Like I could forget." I say, shrugging. I definitely did forget. Elara's eyes twitch a fraction, narrow as they pick apart my expression.

"Right," Her lips purse and I internally cuss myself out for flicking my gaze to track the action.

Soon, we're heading back to where we came to take photos for our socials with the team, as well as separate photos of Elara and I.

As we wrap up for the night, the sky now a dull gray speckled with millions of white grains of salt, I find myself unable to turn my key inside my ignition.

I sit in silence as I rethink the last hour of my life.

Impulse acts before logic.

My fingers swipe, then tap at the screen of my phone before pressing it to my ear.

She picks up on the second ring, eager, as always. My favorite attribute of hers. That, and the fact that she doesn't feel the need to blab about our—relations.

"Always a pleasant surprise to see your name on across screen," a voice, high-pitched, overly sultry, and nothing like Elara's, says through my phone's speakers.

"Come over tonight."

"Changed your mind, did you?" Anticipation laces her honeyed words.

My lip twitches. I ignore her question. "I'll be ready in an hour."

"Yes, sir." She says seductively. I run a hand through my hair as I end the call.

If fucking won't solve my issues, I don't know what else will.

No, I do know.

The woman I'll be thinking of tonight while I fuck Trina is the solution.

But I can't do anything with Elara. Not yet. Because if what we have is real, then everything else will become real, too.

She'll want to know things that I don't want to talk about. The same applies to all those buried memories. I haven't touched them in years, and I'd rather not divulge them if I can help it.

a/n
helloooo my beautiful readerss <3

the strangest thing keeps happening to me.

i just started rewriting an old story & everytime i start to write for scandalous revenge i somehow end up editing my other wip. so odd... (i'm obsessed)

also PLS FORGIVE MY LATENESSSS IM SO SORRY!!
i've just been caught up w life lately & extra OT at work has NOT been helping.
idk why i struggled sm writing this chapter. but it's finally done UGHHHGAJAKQ