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15
OLIVIA
It’s been two weeks since I got that email, and I don’t even know where we are anymore. At first, I kept track of our stops, but then I realized it was pointless. It didn’t matter what city we were in because I wouldn’t be seeing any of it anyway. So I just kind of… stopped trying to keep up with our flight destinations.
All I know now is that there are two guards posted outside my door and Vincent’s. For security purposes, they keep giving us adjacent rooms, and guards are crawling all over our floor wherever we go. It just makes it easier to keep track of both of us when we’re this close together even though we’ve never been further apart.
My dad told him about my assignment, and he hasn’t spoken to me since. I haven’t even seen him. Dad just told me to stay out of his way for a while. Apparently, just as I suspected, he didn’t take the news very well when he found out I’ve been spying on him for our parents.
I’ve been meaning to apologize to him, to explain myself at the very least, but I’ve been waiting until I see him face to face to do it. It seems like the kind of thing that will be better received if I do it in person, but he must be making a point of avoiding any interaction with me.
We’re both allowed to use the amenities in the hotels we stay in, provided that we take one of the guards with us at all times and stay out of the areas that the general public has access to—just like my mom suggested back in Paris. I thought I’d see Vincent at meals in the private dining rooms our group sometimes eats in, but I haven’t. He also hasn’t been to the pool, spa, game room, or gym at the same time as I have.
Which means I haven’t had the opportunity to apologize, and strangely, I miss him. A lot. This new arrangement isn’t all that different from the way I used to live on tour, but now that I’ve had a taste of what I was missing out on, I’m finding it much more difficult not to be allowed out to explore.
Since he’s always done it, I can’t even imagine how difficult this must be for Vincent. Who I can’t stop thinking about. It’s not just the guilt that’s making it impossible for me to focus on much else either. It’s because I really do miss spending time with him. I even miss arguing with him. It seems that I got too used to spending time with him, and now that it’s been snatched away from me, I’ve realized that the time we spent together definitely did make my life just a little bit brighter.
More exciting.
Like I used to live in a box of pastel-shade paints, was thrown into a technicolor palette, and now I’m stuck somewhere between the beiges and grays. It’s just not… the same.
Sighing as I walk out of my bathroom in my robe, I rub my hair in the towel and wonder why I even bothered washing it in the first place. I’m still going to the security office and working out a couple times a day, but other than that, it’s not like I’m going anywhere anyway.
As I walk toward the dresser, my gaze lands on the door between my room and his. I’ve been finding myself looking at it more and more often as the days have passed. No matter which cities we’ve been in, he’s always just been on the other side of the door.
There’s no noise, chatter, or laughter coming from his side of that door tonight. The other kids have all gone to the concert venue for the show, so there’s no one else left in the hotel for him to hang out with. The rest of the group is being watched closely, but since there’s no threat against any of them, they’re all still allowed a little bit of freedom. Not too much. They’re not to go out drinking or clubbing or anything like that, which is why they’ve all gone to watch the show just to get out a little bit, but they’re not locked down tight like we are.
Mom said I could go to the show with her if I wanted to, but I turned her down. For some reason, it felt like it’d be a betrayal to Vincent if I went when he has to stay behind. So here I am, bored and lonely, already scrubbed sparkly clean so I can’t even go sink into a long, warm bath, and the boy I need to speak to is right on the other side of that door.
I know it’s a long shot, but I’m over the silent treatment he’s been giving me. All I was doing was my job, and although I can see why he’d be ticked off, I’ve given him the space Dad said to give him. Besides, I stayed behind partially because I knew I might get the opportunity to speak to him tonight without anybody interrupting us. Even Emma and Maxim have gone to the show, and they’ve been lying super low since everything happened.
I have no idea what happened in Jonathan and Camille’s room when they told Vincent about the picture and our house arrest, but something seems to have rocked Maxim down to his very core. He hasn’t been quite the same since that night, and I suspect that it, too, has to do with something about the past.
Deciding that it’s time to make him listen if he won’t do it voluntarily, I knock on the door between our rooms. “Vincent? I know you’re in there. Can I come in?”
Silence.
“Please, Vincent? Don’t you think this has gone on long enough? I’m sorry, but I can explain.”
More silence.
“Fine, if you won’t let me in, then I guess I’m just going to have to do this through the door.”
When he still doesn’t respond, I let out a soft sigh and lean my forehead against the wooden paneling, putting my hand on it like maybe, if he is on the other side listening, he’ll feel me here. Feel how sincerely sorry I am.
Not that he’ll care, but hey.I can’t help the way I feel, so I leave my hand there, hoping that somehow it’ll give him some comfort. I’d rather be touching him, which is a disturbing thought in and of itself, but since I can’t, I’m going to settle for being tender with the door. Frankly, I’d probably have gotten about as much emotion from Vincent as I’m going to get from the damn door in any event.
“I really am sorry, Vincent. I was only trying to help. I know that doesn’t make it better, but it’s the truth. It was a great opportunity for me to do what the others couldn’t, and you know how much I’ve been struggling to get them to see me as anything but a spoiled brat whose whims are being indulged by her father. I thought that if I could get you to tone it down, even a little bit, they might finally see that I’m worth more than they think. Not even my dad takes me seriously, but security is all I’ve ever wanted to do.”
I release a breath through my nostrils, not even sure why I’m telling him all this when I only meant to apologize and explain that I was just doing my job. “The entire security force tried with you back in the States, and you managed to slip away from them or ignore them all. You kept doing exactly what you wanted to be doing, and I thought that if I could just get you home earlier and more sober for a few nights even, it would make them see that I was good at my job.
“What I didn’t take into account was that they were never going to think that.” I scoff back a burst of humorless laughter. “Let’s be honest with each other. Especially now that the picture has surfaced, they probably only think that you were coming back with me earlier every night because you wanted to take me to bed. Even if the picture had never come out, that’s what they would’ve thought anyway. At best, they’d have thought that I was using my friendship with you to get you to dial it back. It never would’ve been a case of them thinking that my being good at my job had anything to do with it. They would’ve been right too. You didn’t come back earlier because I’m good at my job. You came back because you felt responsible for me, which is also why you didn’t drink as much as usual.”
Turning around, I slide down the door and sit with my back against it, spreading my legs out in front of me and crossing my ankles to get comfortable. As the words come tumbling out, I realize that I shouldn’t be making it all about myself if it’s an apology to him.
“None of that is an excuse. What I did might’ve been part of my job, but you and I know that it went much further than that, and where it ended definitely wasn’t part of what I was charged to do. Can I tell you a secret?”
Of course, he still doesn’t answer, but I tell him anyway. “I don’t regret it. Do you? Was it really that bad having me with you? We had fun together, didn’t we?”
