Your Secret
Mar. 14th, 2008 01:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tattooedsirenTitle: Your Secret
Ships: Zac/Nikki
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: Do I really need to say that I'm not these people, I dont know these people, and everything within is a work of fiction? Didn't think so.
Summary: I didn’t understand it then and in truth, with years of contemplation and hindsight, I still don’t understand it now. But against all odds, we became the best of friends. You were everything I could need in one person, in one friend. However I didn’t understand why, out of everyone around, you chose me. Yes, I was your leading lady, but I imagined you would have more in common with someone like Amanda or Elijah. Why did you choose me? And if I knew then what I know now, would I have asked you to choose someone else?
Authors Notes: Thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mandy_jgfor the look-over. This fic was inspired by one line in Secret by Missy Higgins. When I was about three quarters of the way through writing it I decided to try adding the lyrics as section breakers, instead of my usual asterisk, and I was quite surprised by how well it all matched up. :O) Just a warning, this is a bit different to the usual Zac/Nikki fics you have seen from me - its a bit darker and angstier. But I am very proud of it and I hope you enjoy it. :O)
Your Secret
you were from the North, I was from the South
In some ways it felt like we came from different worlds. We lived on different coasts. Our teenage years could not have been more different. But we met on neutral ground, in another time, and the connection was immediate. And I know it never entered either of our minds, that day when we met, that this was not just a simple meeting of colleagues, but a meeting of souls, one that would affect the course of our lives. But we didn’t know that then. How could we? You just smiled and held out your hand, which I took for a moment, before we both leaned forward and hugged each other tightly, as though you and I had known each other for forever.
we were from opposite places, different towns
I didn’t understand it then and in truth, with years of contemplation and hindsight, I still don’t understand it now. But against all odds, we became the best of friends. I adored you as someone who was smarter than was usually credited for, funnier than was generally known, and infinitely more generous than most could understand. That’s not to say you are perfect. Far from it. But you were everything I could need in one person, in one friend. However I didn’t understand why, out of everyone around, you chose me. Yes, I was your leading lady, but I imagined you would have more in common with someone like Amanda or Elijah or even some of the dancers. But when the day was over, it was me you asked to dinner. It was my couch you lounged on during long breaks and my phone you texted when you were bored. Why did you choose me? And if I knew then what I know now, would I have asked you to choose someone else?
but I knew it was good and you knew it was too
I felt an undercurrent of something whenever we were together. I tried to deny it, not wanting to explore this new feeling for fear of it destroying the friendship that had come to mean so much to me. But sometimes, when I looked into your eyes, I was near certain that you felt it too. And that scared me more than anything. Because the reality was this: it would not be a huge surprise for anyone to figure out I may have developed more than friendly feelings towards you. You were wanted in some fashion by almost every female in the country between the ages of ten and thirty. And it was my first professional job, so it wouldn’t be a shock for the lines between fiction and reality, between you and Link, to become slightly blurred in my inexperience. But the idea that maybe you felt the same as me, me, little average nobody me, was too surreal to believe. So I didn’t. Despite the occasional thought that couldn’t be controlled, I knew in my heart of hearts that you considered me to be your best friend and nothing more. And I was fine with that. Truly.
so we moved together like a ball and chain
By the time promotion was over I was almost glad. Despite my love for the movie, for Adam, for you and the rest of the cast, I didn’t think I could take much more if it. But even without all the questioning and speculation, the truth is I needed to get away from you to clear my head. I couldn’t reconcile all the touches and laughs and gazes and even kisses that we shared during those months with the truth of our friendship. It was screwing with my head. You were screwing with my head. I knew you didn’t mean to – at least that is what I would have said then, though now I’m not so sure. But I needed to step back and get some clarity. I knew I would miss you with all my heart but it was for the best.
minds becoming two halves of the same
But of course that wasn’t where it ended. How could it? We emailed and messaged each other all the time. Award season arrived and with it recognition for all our hard work. We saw each other at various events and ceremonies. We weren’t photographed together much, for which I think we were both glad. But despite the lack of photographic evidence, we were together for hours, sometimes days. It was like old times, those early days of our friendship when everything was easy and real. It was almost possible to forget my deeper feelings for you when we were chatting together in a room with a thousand other people. Time and space had not diminished my feelings, simply made it easier to compartmentalise them. Sometimes you were with her, sometimes you weren’t. But she was never in your words, and I had the impression she wasn’t in your thoughts. Or was that wishful thinking on my part? All I know is that when you talked to me, you were so sincere and so present, it was as though there was nowhere else in the world you would rather be.
it was real, but in shadows it grew
The first time it happened, it was an accident. Which would sound stupid to say out loud. I can imagine the response of almost anyone if I were to say that. Me: it was an accident. Them: what, you were both naked and he tripped and fell on you? So maybe accident isn’t the right word. How about unplanned. How about surprising. Or how about the truth. We hadn’t seen each other in months, and you were in town filming. You had wanted to meet up earlier but filming had been crazy and it was wrapping in a week so it was now or never. I had just moved into my new apartment and you came over for dinner to celebrate. We talked all night long, as though we had never been apart. A bottle of wine was shared between us. We weren’t drunk, but we were slightly liberated. The truth is I can’t even remember what it was we were talking about. Isn’t that strange? You would think I should be able to remember all the details of the evening, even, if not especially, the insignificant ones. But anyway, we were talking about something that was apparently very forgettable, and then your fingertips were on my cheek. We stopped laughing at whatever had been so funny when your thumb traced my lower lip. And then your mouth was on mine, hot and demanding. Things progressed at a surprising rate. I know I protested at one point. You were with her and we were friends and this was a mistake. You didn’t listen to my objections. Why should you, when after I declared them so forcefully I was the one to kiss you afterwards. You protested a bit later too. But we were both too far gone, too caught up in the moment, too busy relieving the tension we had both tried to deny for so long. We came together as one, an inevitable conclusion to something that felt beyond our control, something that had started over a year before. And when I woke in the morning, you were gone.
cos you've got a secret don't ya babe?
You called a week later. You apologised, for so many things it would take too long to list them. I listened and agreed in the right places and protested in the right places. I appeased you as best I could. After all, I was your best friend, and I didn’t want you hurting. I still don’t. You asked me to promise not to tell anyone. Of course I wouldn’t. You asked me to always be your friend. I told you I didn’t know how to do anything else. You told me you loved me, in that casual ‘you know I love you right?’ way. It was the first time you had said that to me. Why was it you could only tell me you loved me as a friend after we had slept together? I told you that I loved you too, to have a good day on set, and I hung up the phone. Little did I know that you weren’t on set, nor were you going to be at all that day. Instead, a few minutes after I hung up on you, you walked into the theatre for your first audition.
I would've shouted loud and broken through
You turned up on my doorstep two months later. There had been rumoured sightings of you in town on and off since the last time we spoke, but you had never come to see me and you never mentioned it in the few emails that had gone back and forth between us, so I didn’t ask. But then there you were, smiling brightly, as though you had just seen a familiar face in a sea of strangers, which I guess you kinda did. You kissed my cheek and walked into my apartment without an invitation. Or did you know, even then, that you never needed an invitation, not from me, not for anything. We caught up. You told me that you had gotten the main supporting role in a new musical and were moving to New York for the next year. I was happy for you. Of course I was. It was a dream come true, even if it was my dream and not yours. You were staying at a nearby hotel until you could find an apartment. I wanted to invite you to stay. But then I remembered the last time we saw each other. And nothing had changed. Yes, you were now in the same city as me, but we were still only friends, you were still with her, it was still wrong. But when you left, your hand squeezing mine in goodbye, I blurted out the words before I could stop myself, and when you smiled I knew I had set us upon a dangerous path, but I didn’t care.
I would've given it all to belong to you
It was easy at first. You didn’t bring much luggage. My apartment was only one bedroom but you were more than happy to sleep on the sofa bed, claiming the company more than made up for missing a big squishy hotel bed. Things fell back into place, so much so I went entire days completely forgetting what had happened between us. There were movies and cooking and walks in the park. You dodged the paps well; no one knew you were staying with me. When I asked how she felt about you staying with me, you shrugged nonchalantly, saying that it was fine. She would be travelling a lot over the next year for her upcoming projects and you trusted her and she trusted you. And now I think, who was betrayed more, her or me? You went to rehearsals all day long and I went to work on set for the pilot I was filming. We fell into a domestic rhythm quite easily, so much so that when, two weeks later when you mentioned you were going to look at apartments, I stared blankly at you for a moment before remembering that this was only temporary. You asked me to come with and for some reason I couldn’t deny you. We saw a few places, you asked my good opinion, but you didn’t see anything you liked. I took your hand because you seemed a bit disappointed. You said you just wanted to find somewhere to call home, to which I replied that my home was your home as long as you wanted it to be, and when I hugged you I’m pretty sure I imagined you whispering ‘forever’.
but there were different plans, different rules
It was opening night. I had organised to skip out of work early to make sure I got there in time. There were lots of lights and people and celebs and press. I avoided them all as best I could. For some reason I felt odd being there, as though I didn’t belong in this part of your life. I only really relaxed when I went inside, found my seat, and the theatre lights went down. You were amazing. Really. You owned the stage and I was so proud. There was a big party afterwards. I didn’t want to go but you had made me promise, so in I went. I saw a couple of familiar faces, and chatted amiably with them for a while. I saw you at a table in the corner as I chatted with one of your co-stars. You were with her, one arm around her shoulders, talking animatedly. I tried to ignore it, that feeling that welled within. I tried to focus on the conversation I was having, but my feigned interest could only last so long. I excused myself and headed to the bathroom. I took a few moments to breathe, and splashed some water on my face. When I re-entered the party the first person I saw was you. You were leaning on the wall, seemingly watching all the activity around. I knew I had to walk past you to leave, and I think you knew that too. So going with the band-aid theory, I walked up to your side, kissed your cheek, gave you my congratulations, and said I would see you later. The grip of your fingers around my wrist prevented my hasty exit. I looked you in the eyes, and neither of us spoke a word, but our souls were having a whole other conversation. You dropped my hand and let me go. You didn’t come home that night.
if you'd be so kind as to follow me
As a matter of fact, you didn’t come home for several nights. I didn’t want to but I couldn’t help but be angry with you. I felt betrayed, even though I had no reason to. You really had done nothing wrong. I had let my feelings run away with me. I had been weak. I decided that when you got home I would tell you that you should move out, that for the sake of our friendship we shouldn’t live together anymore. It would be easy. After all, I was under no illusion as to where you had been staying when you didn’t come home. Or, more to the point, with whom you had been staying. And just thinking about that was enough to resolve me on the matter. Except, when you finally did come home, I couldn’t do it. I looked at you and I saw my best friend. I ignored everything else. All that mattered was that you were my friend and I cared for you. I couldn’t do it. You could tell there was something on my mind, that there was something I wanted to say, and you gave me free reign to say it. Instead I walked past you and out the door.
I will show you the way to the rest of my sins
It was a month after your big debut. You had had great reviews. My show had been picked up and was generating some buzz. We should have been on top of the world. Instead, we almost became shadows of our former selves. There was a tension whenever we were in the same room, which admittedly wasn’t that often. We were both busy, like two passing ships in the night. There was no laughter anymore. My head was a mess. I had been in bed and attempting sleep for over two hours. So it was a surprise when I heard a soft knock at my door. You came in slowly, my eyes on you the entire time as you crept from the doorway and into my room, before sliding into my bed. We looked at each other. I was confused. I opened my mouth to speak but instead you leaned forward, pressing your lips to mine. My response was immediate. We began tearing at each others clothes with a violent intensity. It was as though every thought and feeling we had had for each other over the previous few months, both good and bad, came flowing out all at once. There were kisses and licks and bites. There were nail indentations and pulled hair. There was gasping and screaming and an absolute refusal to make a sound. It was everything and nothing all at once.
so this room was damp where your sins laid
I woke up before you. It actually took me a few moments to remember and realise what had happened. But then I saw you, tousled hair, warm skin, sleeping soundly. I wanted to laugh and cry all at once. Instead I crept slowly and quietly from the bed. I dressed in a hurry and left. I didn’t even stop to wash up properly, knowing I could worry about all of that when I was on set and could shower without fear of the running water waking you. I was distracted all day long. I didn’t know if I regretted it or not. I knew that I should, but a small and rather loud part of me protested that having this part of you, even if I shouldn’t, was something that I couldn’t resist. It was better than nothing at all. I wondered what you thought about it all. I needed to talk to someone about it, but I had no one. My family wouldn’t understand, my friends on set were great but not close enough for me to share this, and my best friend was the one I needed to talk about. I made it through the day, mostly on autopilot, anxious about what would happen when I went back home.
there was that smell in the air of an old place
You had a routine. You decided you wanted to give all your energy to your show, and as such it shouldn’t be at the end of your day. So you slept through the daylight hours, waking just a few hours before the show, then spent the night wandering the streets or doing whatever you wanted in the city that never sleeps, going to bed in the early morning. Our indiscretion the night before had screwed with your routine so I didn’t know what to expect when I got home. I certainly didn’t expect to see you sitting on the foot of my bed, waiting for me. You smiled at me, standing as you asked how my day was. I had been stunned into silence, for probably the first time in my life. When I didn’t answer you just continued to look at me. Until we both moved forward, mouths and hands and bodies crashing into each other. We didn’t come up for breath as we peeled the clothes from each others bodies. It felt like I could not wait another full minute to have you inside me. Like a junkie about to get a fix I pulled at you until we were joined as one. You said my name, over and over. And when it was over, our breaths coming in shallow gasps as our sweaty limbs lay entangled, you kissed my lips gently. And in that moment, I knew, this wasn’t the end.
that hadn't seen much daylight in years
I hate the word affair. It sounds too simple for what is ultimately very complicated. It makes the relationship sound seedy, even when it is based on love. Because, yes, whether we verbalised it or not, what we had was based on love and affection. But that didn’t matter. All that really mattered was that you were with someone else but it was my bed you came to every night. After our first few times, when things became slightly less desperate between us, and we took our time and our actions became more gentle, the friendship that had slightly eroded as our base instincts had taken over returned to us. We could talk again. You confessed that you were still with her, even though you hadn’t seen her in two months. You talked to her every few days. You cared for her, even if it was nothing like love. I wasn’t shocked by anything you told me. And it didn’t really bother me. Because I was the one with you, not her. I was the one whose skin you traced and lips you kissed and touch you ached for.
if you don’t mind I’m gonna leave you here to night time
Our world became a darkened room. I got up and went to work, even if my mind wasn’t always completely there. Most of the time I arrived back home while you were at work. I waited as the minutes ticked by and sooner or later, you would walk through the door, and straight into my arms. We had become addicted to each other. We had long felt a connection, ever since the first moment we met, but now that we had added a physical relationship on top of that it was as though we had lost all patience for other people. I declined invitations and requests. You did the same. I learned to survive on only a few hours sleep, all the better to spend my time with you. We found a little out of the way place where we could eat and drink and dance before collapsing into bed, a tangle of arms and legs. It was everything I wanted and I pretended that everything was okay. I pretended not to notice you get up in the middle of the night to take her calls. I pretended that despite the all-consuming nature of our connection that it really was just insignificant and inconsequential and I could stop it whenever I wanted. But nothing could be further from the truth. I had surrendered myself to you, body and soul, and there was no going back. The only thing that felt real was your whisper in my ear, the smell of your skin, your tongue against mine. I knew it wouldn’t last forever, even back then. How could it? But that didn’t mean we couldn’t enjoy it while it lasted.
then we can do what we want my baby out of the spotlight
Is it weird to say I considered her to be the ‘other woman’? Which is ridiculous, because that was me, I was the Other Woman. But it didn’t feel that way. In fact, the only times I was really reminded of the betrayal was when she came into town. I knew you spoke on the phone a lot, but she still made a point to come into town once every couple of months, and I couldn’t blame her. You would disappear for a few days. I would see pictures of you online, leaving her hotel, walking down the streets with her hand in yours. We even had dinner, the three of us, a few different times over the year. And then when she left, we picked up where we left off as though nothing had happened. But you knew, didn’t you. You knew how the reminder of her presence in your life made me feel. You knew that it made me feel cheap and unreal. You knew that, even if it was only for a split second, I hated you. You knew that you could take everything you wanted from me and I was powerless to stop it because I was in love with you. You knew all of this, without me saying a word, and you offered no comfort beyond a gentle kiss and a brilliant smile. Because you knew there was nothing you could say to make me feel better, to make things different, without outright lying. So you stayed quiet, but for the gasps and murmurs and cries of pleasure. And as they days passed after her departure, I went back to my old self, bubbly and exuberant, and you thought I had moved on, gotten over it, forgotten the pain, even though I never could.
yeah you, you got a secret, don't ya babe?
There were rumours going around about you. We might not have got out much, but even so I heard the whispers. You were hiding something. She had been seen making desperate phone calls to you. People you worked with confirmed some slightly erratic behaviour. I heard a few different theories, each with less credibility than the one before. Drink. Drugs. Religion. Cult. None of them knew, none of them could even guess. Yes, you did have a secret. I was your secret. A second life away from the spotlight where you could actually be yourself. A world where all that mattered was what we thought and felt and wanted. A place where everything was real even when it was all encased in a lie. Because the truth of it was, despite how good we were together, how free we felt and how genuine our emotions, it wasn’t real. A secret life, one that no one else knows about, isn’t real. We weren’t real. We weren’t.
and I should know
It ended quickly and easily. Your year was up and you were leaving the show and moving back to the west coast. I came to your last show. We had drinks in an out of the way bar. We danced, bodies pressed together under strobing lights. We went home, barely making it to the apartment before clothes came off. We fell into bed, just as desperate as we were our first time together. Even when it was over we couldn’t stop touching each other. It was like we were trying to commit to memory something that would never happen again. And in the morning, with one last kiss, you walked out the door. I couldn’t tell you how I felt when I was finally alone. I didn’t cry. I felt everything from despair to relief. I saw a picture of you and her in the paper three days later. Everything was as it was meant to be. You left me, just as we both knew you always would. You never promised me anything and I never asked you for anything. Except that the person you left wasn’t the same one as the person you met all those years ago. You changed me. You hollowed me out and there was room for no one else, only you. I was empty.
for I'm your secret, aren't I babe?
Who is it worse for? I can’t quite decide. She has no idea of the betrayal, no idea of the indiscretion. But me, I know everything, and I know that no matter what, you will never be mine. When we speak it’s careful and measured, two old friends catching up. When we email, reading between the lines is not only easy but necessary. When we see each other, when I’m on your coast for a meeting or you’re on mine for a promotion, we get a glimpse of a life that wasn’t meant to be. You have ruined me for everyone else. And all I get in return is a few hours, once or twice a year, where we get to pretend that the only thing that matters is you and me. But your skin feels real beneath my palm and your kiss still warms my heart, so who knows. Maybe this is what is meant to be. I’ll take your friendship when it’s offered and your love when it’s given. I’ll be forever yours, even if you are never mine.
Ships: Zac/Nikki
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: Do I really need to say that I'm not these people, I dont know these people, and everything within is a work of fiction? Didn't think so.
Summary: I didn’t understand it then and in truth, with years of contemplation and hindsight, I still don’t understand it now. But against all odds, we became the best of friends. You were everything I could need in one person, in one friend. However I didn’t understand why, out of everyone around, you chose me. Yes, I was your leading lady, but I imagined you would have more in common with someone like Amanda or Elijah. Why did you choose me? And if I knew then what I know now, would I have asked you to choose someone else?
Authors Notes: Thanks to
mandy_jgfor the look-over. This fic was inspired by one line in Secret by Missy Higgins. When I was about three quarters of the way through writing it I decided to try adding the lyrics as section breakers, instead of my usual asterisk, and I was quite surprised by how well it all matched up. :O) Just a warning, this is a bit different to the usual Zac/Nikki fics you have seen from me - its a bit darker and angstier. But I am very proud of it and I hope you enjoy it. :O) Your Secret
In some ways it felt like we came from different worlds. We lived on different coasts. Our teenage years could not have been more different. But we met on neutral ground, in another time, and the connection was immediate. And I know it never entered either of our minds, that day when we met, that this was not just a simple meeting of colleagues, but a meeting of souls, one that would affect the course of our lives. But we didn’t know that then. How could we? You just smiled and held out your hand, which I took for a moment, before we both leaned forward and hugged each other tightly, as though you and I had known each other for forever.
I didn’t understand it then and in truth, with years of contemplation and hindsight, I still don’t understand it now. But against all odds, we became the best of friends. I adored you as someone who was smarter than was usually credited for, funnier than was generally known, and infinitely more generous than most could understand. That’s not to say you are perfect. Far from it. But you were everything I could need in one person, in one friend. However I didn’t understand why, out of everyone around, you chose me. Yes, I was your leading lady, but I imagined you would have more in common with someone like Amanda or Elijah or even some of the dancers. But when the day was over, it was me you asked to dinner. It was my couch you lounged on during long breaks and my phone you texted when you were bored. Why did you choose me? And if I knew then what I know now, would I have asked you to choose someone else?
I felt an undercurrent of something whenever we were together. I tried to deny it, not wanting to explore this new feeling for fear of it destroying the friendship that had come to mean so much to me. But sometimes, when I looked into your eyes, I was near certain that you felt it too. And that scared me more than anything. Because the reality was this: it would not be a huge surprise for anyone to figure out I may have developed more than friendly feelings towards you. You were wanted in some fashion by almost every female in the country between the ages of ten and thirty. And it was my first professional job, so it wouldn’t be a shock for the lines between fiction and reality, between you and Link, to become slightly blurred in my inexperience. But the idea that maybe you felt the same as me, me, little average nobody me, was too surreal to believe. So I didn’t. Despite the occasional thought that couldn’t be controlled, I knew in my heart of hearts that you considered me to be your best friend and nothing more. And I was fine with that. Truly.
By the time promotion was over I was almost glad. Despite my love for the movie, for Adam, for you and the rest of the cast, I didn’t think I could take much more if it. But even without all the questioning and speculation, the truth is I needed to get away from you to clear my head. I couldn’t reconcile all the touches and laughs and gazes and even kisses that we shared during those months with the truth of our friendship. It was screwing with my head. You were screwing with my head. I knew you didn’t mean to – at least that is what I would have said then, though now I’m not so sure. But I needed to step back and get some clarity. I knew I would miss you with all my heart but it was for the best.
But of course that wasn’t where it ended. How could it? We emailed and messaged each other all the time. Award season arrived and with it recognition for all our hard work. We saw each other at various events and ceremonies. We weren’t photographed together much, for which I think we were both glad. But despite the lack of photographic evidence, we were together for hours, sometimes days. It was like old times, those early days of our friendship when everything was easy and real. It was almost possible to forget my deeper feelings for you when we were chatting together in a room with a thousand other people. Time and space had not diminished my feelings, simply made it easier to compartmentalise them. Sometimes you were with her, sometimes you weren’t. But she was never in your words, and I had the impression she wasn’t in your thoughts. Or was that wishful thinking on my part? All I know is that when you talked to me, you were so sincere and so present, it was as though there was nowhere else in the world you would rather be.
The first time it happened, it was an accident. Which would sound stupid to say out loud. I can imagine the response of almost anyone if I were to say that. Me: it was an accident. Them: what, you were both naked and he tripped and fell on you? So maybe accident isn’t the right word. How about unplanned. How about surprising. Or how about the truth. We hadn’t seen each other in months, and you were in town filming. You had wanted to meet up earlier but filming had been crazy and it was wrapping in a week so it was now or never. I had just moved into my new apartment and you came over for dinner to celebrate. We talked all night long, as though we had never been apart. A bottle of wine was shared between us. We weren’t drunk, but we were slightly liberated. The truth is I can’t even remember what it was we were talking about. Isn’t that strange? You would think I should be able to remember all the details of the evening, even, if not especially, the insignificant ones. But anyway, we were talking about something that was apparently very forgettable, and then your fingertips were on my cheek. We stopped laughing at whatever had been so funny when your thumb traced my lower lip. And then your mouth was on mine, hot and demanding. Things progressed at a surprising rate. I know I protested at one point. You were with her and we were friends and this was a mistake. You didn’t listen to my objections. Why should you, when after I declared them so forcefully I was the one to kiss you afterwards. You protested a bit later too. But we were both too far gone, too caught up in the moment, too busy relieving the tension we had both tried to deny for so long. We came together as one, an inevitable conclusion to something that felt beyond our control, something that had started over a year before. And when I woke in the morning, you were gone.
You called a week later. You apologised, for so many things it would take too long to list them. I listened and agreed in the right places and protested in the right places. I appeased you as best I could. After all, I was your best friend, and I didn’t want you hurting. I still don’t. You asked me to promise not to tell anyone. Of course I wouldn’t. You asked me to always be your friend. I told you I didn’t know how to do anything else. You told me you loved me, in that casual ‘you know I love you right?’ way. It was the first time you had said that to me. Why was it you could only tell me you loved me as a friend after we had slept together? I told you that I loved you too, to have a good day on set, and I hung up the phone. Little did I know that you weren’t on set, nor were you going to be at all that day. Instead, a few minutes after I hung up on you, you walked into the theatre for your first audition.
You turned up on my doorstep two months later. There had been rumoured sightings of you in town on and off since the last time we spoke, but you had never come to see me and you never mentioned it in the few emails that had gone back and forth between us, so I didn’t ask. But then there you were, smiling brightly, as though you had just seen a familiar face in a sea of strangers, which I guess you kinda did. You kissed my cheek and walked into my apartment without an invitation. Or did you know, even then, that you never needed an invitation, not from me, not for anything. We caught up. You told me that you had gotten the main supporting role in a new musical and were moving to New York for the next year. I was happy for you. Of course I was. It was a dream come true, even if it was my dream and not yours. You were staying at a nearby hotel until you could find an apartment. I wanted to invite you to stay. But then I remembered the last time we saw each other. And nothing had changed. Yes, you were now in the same city as me, but we were still only friends, you were still with her, it was still wrong. But when you left, your hand squeezing mine in goodbye, I blurted out the words before I could stop myself, and when you smiled I knew I had set us upon a dangerous path, but I didn’t care.
It was easy at first. You didn’t bring much luggage. My apartment was only one bedroom but you were more than happy to sleep on the sofa bed, claiming the company more than made up for missing a big squishy hotel bed. Things fell back into place, so much so I went entire days completely forgetting what had happened between us. There were movies and cooking and walks in the park. You dodged the paps well; no one knew you were staying with me. When I asked how she felt about you staying with me, you shrugged nonchalantly, saying that it was fine. She would be travelling a lot over the next year for her upcoming projects and you trusted her and she trusted you. And now I think, who was betrayed more, her or me? You went to rehearsals all day long and I went to work on set for the pilot I was filming. We fell into a domestic rhythm quite easily, so much so that when, two weeks later when you mentioned you were going to look at apartments, I stared blankly at you for a moment before remembering that this was only temporary. You asked me to come with and for some reason I couldn’t deny you. We saw a few places, you asked my good opinion, but you didn’t see anything you liked. I took your hand because you seemed a bit disappointed. You said you just wanted to find somewhere to call home, to which I replied that my home was your home as long as you wanted it to be, and when I hugged you I’m pretty sure I imagined you whispering ‘forever’.
It was opening night. I had organised to skip out of work early to make sure I got there in time. There were lots of lights and people and celebs and press. I avoided them all as best I could. For some reason I felt odd being there, as though I didn’t belong in this part of your life. I only really relaxed when I went inside, found my seat, and the theatre lights went down. You were amazing. Really. You owned the stage and I was so proud. There was a big party afterwards. I didn’t want to go but you had made me promise, so in I went. I saw a couple of familiar faces, and chatted amiably with them for a while. I saw you at a table in the corner as I chatted with one of your co-stars. You were with her, one arm around her shoulders, talking animatedly. I tried to ignore it, that feeling that welled within. I tried to focus on the conversation I was having, but my feigned interest could only last so long. I excused myself and headed to the bathroom. I took a few moments to breathe, and splashed some water on my face. When I re-entered the party the first person I saw was you. You were leaning on the wall, seemingly watching all the activity around. I knew I had to walk past you to leave, and I think you knew that too. So going with the band-aid theory, I walked up to your side, kissed your cheek, gave you my congratulations, and said I would see you later. The grip of your fingers around my wrist prevented my hasty exit. I looked you in the eyes, and neither of us spoke a word, but our souls were having a whole other conversation. You dropped my hand and let me go. You didn’t come home that night.
As a matter of fact, you didn’t come home for several nights. I didn’t want to but I couldn’t help but be angry with you. I felt betrayed, even though I had no reason to. You really had done nothing wrong. I had let my feelings run away with me. I had been weak. I decided that when you got home I would tell you that you should move out, that for the sake of our friendship we shouldn’t live together anymore. It would be easy. After all, I was under no illusion as to where you had been staying when you didn’t come home. Or, more to the point, with whom you had been staying. And just thinking about that was enough to resolve me on the matter. Except, when you finally did come home, I couldn’t do it. I looked at you and I saw my best friend. I ignored everything else. All that mattered was that you were my friend and I cared for you. I couldn’t do it. You could tell there was something on my mind, that there was something I wanted to say, and you gave me free reign to say it. Instead I walked past you and out the door.
It was a month after your big debut. You had had great reviews. My show had been picked up and was generating some buzz. We should have been on top of the world. Instead, we almost became shadows of our former selves. There was a tension whenever we were in the same room, which admittedly wasn’t that often. We were both busy, like two passing ships in the night. There was no laughter anymore. My head was a mess. I had been in bed and attempting sleep for over two hours. So it was a surprise when I heard a soft knock at my door. You came in slowly, my eyes on you the entire time as you crept from the doorway and into my room, before sliding into my bed. We looked at each other. I was confused. I opened my mouth to speak but instead you leaned forward, pressing your lips to mine. My response was immediate. We began tearing at each others clothes with a violent intensity. It was as though every thought and feeling we had had for each other over the previous few months, both good and bad, came flowing out all at once. There were kisses and licks and bites. There were nail indentations and pulled hair. There was gasping and screaming and an absolute refusal to make a sound. It was everything and nothing all at once.
I woke up before you. It actually took me a few moments to remember and realise what had happened. But then I saw you, tousled hair, warm skin, sleeping soundly. I wanted to laugh and cry all at once. Instead I crept slowly and quietly from the bed. I dressed in a hurry and left. I didn’t even stop to wash up properly, knowing I could worry about all of that when I was on set and could shower without fear of the running water waking you. I was distracted all day long. I didn’t know if I regretted it or not. I knew that I should, but a small and rather loud part of me protested that having this part of you, even if I shouldn’t, was something that I couldn’t resist. It was better than nothing at all. I wondered what you thought about it all. I needed to talk to someone about it, but I had no one. My family wouldn’t understand, my friends on set were great but not close enough for me to share this, and my best friend was the one I needed to talk about. I made it through the day, mostly on autopilot, anxious about what would happen when I went back home.
You had a routine. You decided you wanted to give all your energy to your show, and as such it shouldn’t be at the end of your day. So you slept through the daylight hours, waking just a few hours before the show, then spent the night wandering the streets or doing whatever you wanted in the city that never sleeps, going to bed in the early morning. Our indiscretion the night before had screwed with your routine so I didn’t know what to expect when I got home. I certainly didn’t expect to see you sitting on the foot of my bed, waiting for me. You smiled at me, standing as you asked how my day was. I had been stunned into silence, for probably the first time in my life. When I didn’t answer you just continued to look at me. Until we both moved forward, mouths and hands and bodies crashing into each other. We didn’t come up for breath as we peeled the clothes from each others bodies. It felt like I could not wait another full minute to have you inside me. Like a junkie about to get a fix I pulled at you until we were joined as one. You said my name, over and over. And when it was over, our breaths coming in shallow gasps as our sweaty limbs lay entangled, you kissed my lips gently. And in that moment, I knew, this wasn’t the end.
I hate the word affair. It sounds too simple for what is ultimately very complicated. It makes the relationship sound seedy, even when it is based on love. Because, yes, whether we verbalised it or not, what we had was based on love and affection. But that didn’t matter. All that really mattered was that you were with someone else but it was my bed you came to every night. After our first few times, when things became slightly less desperate between us, and we took our time and our actions became more gentle, the friendship that had slightly eroded as our base instincts had taken over returned to us. We could talk again. You confessed that you were still with her, even though you hadn’t seen her in two months. You talked to her every few days. You cared for her, even if it was nothing like love. I wasn’t shocked by anything you told me. And it didn’t really bother me. Because I was the one with you, not her. I was the one whose skin you traced and lips you kissed and touch you ached for.
Our world became a darkened room. I got up and went to work, even if my mind wasn’t always completely there. Most of the time I arrived back home while you were at work. I waited as the minutes ticked by and sooner or later, you would walk through the door, and straight into my arms. We had become addicted to each other. We had long felt a connection, ever since the first moment we met, but now that we had added a physical relationship on top of that it was as though we had lost all patience for other people. I declined invitations and requests. You did the same. I learned to survive on only a few hours sleep, all the better to spend my time with you. We found a little out of the way place where we could eat and drink and dance before collapsing into bed, a tangle of arms and legs. It was everything I wanted and I pretended that everything was okay. I pretended not to notice you get up in the middle of the night to take her calls. I pretended that despite the all-consuming nature of our connection that it really was just insignificant and inconsequential and I could stop it whenever I wanted. But nothing could be further from the truth. I had surrendered myself to you, body and soul, and there was no going back. The only thing that felt real was your whisper in my ear, the smell of your skin, your tongue against mine. I knew it wouldn’t last forever, even back then. How could it? But that didn’t mean we couldn’t enjoy it while it lasted.
Is it weird to say I considered her to be the ‘other woman’? Which is ridiculous, because that was me, I was the Other Woman. But it didn’t feel that way. In fact, the only times I was really reminded of the betrayal was when she came into town. I knew you spoke on the phone a lot, but she still made a point to come into town once every couple of months, and I couldn’t blame her. You would disappear for a few days. I would see pictures of you online, leaving her hotel, walking down the streets with her hand in yours. We even had dinner, the three of us, a few different times over the year. And then when she left, we picked up where we left off as though nothing had happened. But you knew, didn’t you. You knew how the reminder of her presence in your life made me feel. You knew that it made me feel cheap and unreal. You knew that, even if it was only for a split second, I hated you. You knew that you could take everything you wanted from me and I was powerless to stop it because I was in love with you. You knew all of this, without me saying a word, and you offered no comfort beyond a gentle kiss and a brilliant smile. Because you knew there was nothing you could say to make me feel better, to make things different, without outright lying. So you stayed quiet, but for the gasps and murmurs and cries of pleasure. And as they days passed after her departure, I went back to my old self, bubbly and exuberant, and you thought I had moved on, gotten over it, forgotten the pain, even though I never could.
There were rumours going around about you. We might not have got out much, but even so I heard the whispers. You were hiding something. She had been seen making desperate phone calls to you. People you worked with confirmed some slightly erratic behaviour. I heard a few different theories, each with less credibility than the one before. Drink. Drugs. Religion. Cult. None of them knew, none of them could even guess. Yes, you did have a secret. I was your secret. A second life away from the spotlight where you could actually be yourself. A world where all that mattered was what we thought and felt and wanted. A place where everything was real even when it was all encased in a lie. Because the truth of it was, despite how good we were together, how free we felt and how genuine our emotions, it wasn’t real. A secret life, one that no one else knows about, isn’t real. We weren’t real. We weren’t.
It ended quickly and easily. Your year was up and you were leaving the show and moving back to the west coast. I came to your last show. We had drinks in an out of the way bar. We danced, bodies pressed together under strobing lights. We went home, barely making it to the apartment before clothes came off. We fell into bed, just as desperate as we were our first time together. Even when it was over we couldn’t stop touching each other. It was like we were trying to commit to memory something that would never happen again. And in the morning, with one last kiss, you walked out the door. I couldn’t tell you how I felt when I was finally alone. I didn’t cry. I felt everything from despair to relief. I saw a picture of you and her in the paper three days later. Everything was as it was meant to be. You left me, just as we both knew you always would. You never promised me anything and I never asked you for anything. Except that the person you left wasn’t the same one as the person you met all those years ago. You changed me. You hollowed me out and there was room for no one else, only you. I was empty.
Who is it worse for? I can’t quite decide. She has no idea of the betrayal, no idea of the indiscretion. But me, I know everything, and I know that no matter what, you will never be mine. When we speak it’s careful and measured, two old friends catching up. When we email, reading between the lines is not only easy but necessary. When we see each other, when I’m on your coast for a meeting or you’re on mine for a promotion, we get a glimpse of a life that wasn’t meant to be. You have ruined me for everyone else. And all I get in return is a few hours, once or twice a year, where we get to pretend that the only thing that matters is you and me. But your skin feels real beneath my palm and your kiss still warms my heart, so who knows. Maybe this is what is meant to be. I’ll take your friendship when it’s offered and your love when it’s given. I’ll be forever yours, even if you are never mine.
