Vogue

Arabella was in heaven; green tea and vanilla bean massage heaven. She had escaped Warped earlier that morning, travelling into downtown Pittsburg in the town car Marie had sent for her. Her agent, in all her five inch pumps, coiffed hair and Diane Von Furstenberg wrap dress glory, had been waiting out the front of the hotel. Marie had practically gone into cardiac arrest when Arabella first stepped out of the car – ’When was the last time you had a manicure? Are those split ends? For fuck’s sake Ari, your body is how you get employed; you don’t look after it, say goodbye to your career!’. Arabella knew the woman was jokingly overreacting, but that didn’t mean she was partially right. Upon inspection of her chipped nails and parched skin, Arabella had requested a full body spa regime; waxing, massage, polish, hydration treatments, mani-pedi’s – the works.

Two hours later, she was blissfully scrubbed, painted and hairless. And now, Arabella was feeling practically boneless as a small Asian woman needed the knots out of her back. The incense and candles burning around the room were soothing, calming. For once, the silence was nice.

‘Ari darling, I’m back.’ Well, the silence was nice whilst it lasted. Marie had initially parted from Arabella upon their entry to the spa, deciding she’d rather have ten years of wrinkles and lines wiped off her face with needles than a relaxing spa treatment. ‘I also brought your Blackberry back in. Remember: you are a crack whore and this little phone is your next high – never let it out of your sight or some cocked-up tranny will steal it from you.’ The older woman laughed as she set the cell down next to her client’s downturned face. As much as she bullied Arabella, she was by far the only model Marie would ever wear a sweat suit for. Her resistance to accept the highbrow lifestyle of fashion modeling was, surprisingly refreshing; terribly annoying, but definitely rewarding.

Arabella shifted her head out of the face hole and turned to her right. Sitting there on the leather massage-table was her shiny, black phone. Beyond the piece of technology was Marie, who was easing her self into a mud bath on the other side of the small room.

‘Ok, so, now onto the amazing news Ari’ Arabella was so relaxed she could hardly string a sentence together, resting her head on her left check she just smiled and nodded at Marie to continue. ‘Victoria’s Secret Ari. Victoria’s-fucking-Secret wants you.’

‘What?’

‘They called me love, and they want you in this holiday’s runway show. And not just as filler – you’d be featured in five out of the six collections, maybe a print-ad, not sure, video-diary, they were even talking about you opening one of the walks! Ari, this is major; They only offer deals like this to future Angels. First Miranda, then Marissa and the next could be you.’

Arabella was honestly shocked. As commercial as the lingerie brand was, their runway shows were iconic – she was honored to be asked to participate but to be so heavily featured? It was a little unnerving, she had seen the fame surrounding the Angels skyrocket, from models to celebrities. Arabella wasn’t sure she wanted to follow the same path.

‘Marie, you know I don’t want to be a celebrity model – being an Angel mean’s constant publicity, in-stores, appearances, red carpets; I’m not cut out for that shit.’

‘Ari how can you honestly say that without ever experiencing it? Don’t be scared of a little limelight, you fucking deserve it; you’re an amazingly talented model, why not share it with everyone?’

It had been a favourite question of Marie’s for years; she just couldn’t fathom why Arabella didn’t want to be famous for what she did. In her own mind, Arabella couldn’t imagine anything worse than fame – she liked walking her puppy in her brother’s pajama’s, spending hours doing groceries at Trader Joes’, dating was so easy when you were anonymous, and she didn’t want to imagine the day she couldn’t tour with Justin because of the paparazzi. Fame equaled the end of Arabella’s comfortable life as she knew it, at only twenty-years-old; she wasn’t ready to give that up yet.

‘Marie, you know I’m not going to take on unwanted publicity – I’ll do the runway show but no personal shit and no ad, and definitely no hint’s that I would like to be an Angel. Maybe in a couple of years, who knows? But right now, no big contract.’

Surprisingly Marie smiled, well as best she could with her recent Botox. ‘The show on it’s own is enough for me, but promise that five year’s down the track your not going to be the same little stubborn bitch?’ She laughed, ’One step at a time.

***

The quite lull of the spa was interrupted by the shrill ring of a cell. Arabella’s cell. Trying not to shift the hot marble stones that were resting along the curvature of her spine, Arabella reached out for her Blackberry. “John Cornelius” flashed across the small screen.

‘John? What reason do you have for interrupting my day of leisure?’ She expected to hear his twanged, light laugh but instead indiscriminate noise and the rattle of far off music met her ears. ‘Hello? John…’ There was a rustle of fabric on the other end of the call before the music and cheering got considerably louder, a quite “shit” followed and then his voice.

‘Arabella? Sorry about that, pocket call.’ He laughed, feeling slightly embarrassed. He really had to learn to lock his phone.

‘That’s alright, I forgive you. So Cornelius, what are you doing?’ She had thought she’d be annoyed at the disruption, but she found herself interested in John’s actions – too much time with your own thoughts got considerably boring.

‘Just finished a signing, about to get lunch. Then a cake for Moose’s one year anniversary.’

‘And here I thought you’d be lonely without me? Save me a piece of Max’s cake yeah?

‘Well my heart does ache without you here, that’s why I’m trying to keep as busy as possible’ He was only joking with her but on a rational level, that sentence could have been about ten percent true. He had been disappointed when he learnt Arabella wouldn’t be at the Pittsburg date; Jared and Eric had suggested that she bring Max’s cake out on stage – they had said in a bikini, but John knew she wasn’t a flaunter – instead, they had to settle for Aaron.

***

Placing her phone back down beside her head, a smiling Arabella was about to close her eyes and start relaxing again when out of the corner of her eye, she caught Marie staring at her. Instead of lying back and drowning in her bath of mud, Arabella’s agent was staring her down, a sly smile on her ageless face.

‘What…?’

‘So, that’s why you love tour so much huh? All those “lonely” boys …’

‘You make it sound so desperate. I don’t need to go on tour to get a date.’

‘But you’d like a band boy, that’s why you keep touring – to find the right one. Anyway, I know your not dating, so was that a new bed buddy, John? I’ll have to get his number and personal details…’ Marie was truly exhausting. She was a one-woman show, acting as Arabella’s manager, assistant, booking agent and publicist – and she liked to remind Arabella as often as possible that being her “work mother” meant every sordid detail of her life could never be a secret. One of her most invasive rules was “Constant Contact” – having all the numbers of Arabella’s friends, flings and foes. ‘What if there’s an emergency and you’re to busy fucking? Or fighting? Being one-hundred per cent reachable is vital Ari, vital!’

‘What, John? No, Marie I’m not sleeping with John. Or anyone for that matter.’ Arabella was being dismissive, Marie knew it. She might not have been getting any, but she sure wished she was.

‘Spill sweetheart, you don’t have a good bluff face. What’s the drama?’

For the first time in years, Arabella actually wanted to tell Marie the details of her (non-existent) love life. Her turmoil over the whole ‘Alex and the Bus’ situation hadn’t dissipated like the knots in her back after her massage. The embarrassment and curiosity still lingered, gnawing away at her subconscious. Marie - with forty years of experience, three marriages and five engagements - surely had some advice for the mess that Arabella found herself in.

***

‘You need to ask him, Ari. Honey, it’s going to be eating away at you until you know, trust me I – unfortunately – have experience. Case in point, the first husband; When I found another woman’s lingerie in Richard’s car I was going to forget about it and move on, I mean, that’s when I was still opportunistic about love and marriage – I wanted to make us work. But, that silk planted a seed of doubt in me; from that moment on every action of his, every word, was scrutinized and examined for more evidence. I went mad trying to prove both sides of the story. I’d have saved myself a lot of heartbreak if I’d just straight out asked if he was cheating.’ She looked lost in her memory for a moment before staring right back at Arabella. ‘Don’t burn yourself out over “what ifs?”. Ask, and let the chips fall where they may.’

‘But does knowing make you any happier?’ Arabella knew of the twisted genealogy that was Marie’s love life, but this was the first time she had ever approached it so emotionally. Normally it was a flippant or sarcastic remark about men or marriage. But now, in the humid health room, Marie was laying all her cards on the table, a trustworthy and admirable action.

‘Happier? Well, not for a while, no – I was miserable and alone. But, Ari sweetie, the wonderful thing about happiness is that it ebbs and flows; so it seeped away between me and Richard, but it came back; I found happiness after him and I’ll continue to do so. You may be scared that Alex’s answer will make you unhappy, but that doesn’t mean you’ll never find joy again.’

***

Alex was surprised when Arabella asked him to recount the weekend’s events. He looked uncomfortable, awkwardly sitting on ATL’s breakfast table whilst she sat opposite him on the sofa. He started twirling a strand of his chocolate hair whilst he thought how best to phrase the night’s happenings.

***

…She licked her lips absentmindedly and Alex’s brown orbs flew downwards. A soft groan emitted from him. Somehow the space between them shrunk until a simple breath would close the electric gap between their two parched lips.

He didn’t know who kissed who. She didn’t care.

The kiss was steamy, and as messy as an intoxicated kiss could get. But it still was hot and passionate; lips sparking, tongues touching, teeth nibbling…

…until he stopped it.

‘What are we doing Bells?’ Alex sighed, pulling their lips apart.

‘I thought… I don’t know Alex. We’re electric, you and me - butterflies, sparks, the whole deal. This is … right, isn’t it?’ She stumbled over her words, trying to articulate her thoughts. But they weren’t coming out how she wanted – due to the alcohol, the humid air or Alex, she didn’t know.

‘Baby’ he sighed, sounding exhausted. No, it wasn’t exhausted, more disappointed; like he had to say something he’d known for awhile. ‘We do have chemistry, great chemistry. I think you’re the most…’ his hand still cupped her face, thumb gently caressing her cheek - an automatic action. He was looking into her eyes but not really seeing them. He looked sober, deep in thought, this was Alexander – stripped back and raw, revealing his true feelings – Alexander, a boy Arabella had never seen before. ‘…stunning girl I’ve ever met. I’ve thought that since I was nineteen and trying to hide my boner from you in the back of our van. But, you’re something else Bells, you’re too good for this’

‘This?’

‘Drunken hook-ups in the back of the bus, nights we both know would only stay here and be repeated when no-one was looking. I know me, you might not think I’m a dick-fuck, but I am; I don’t want you to be one of those girls. You deserve a crown, a castle and a prince – things I can’t give you. I’m already in a relationship Bells; and whilst I might have fucked that up royally, I’m not going to degrade you as well by dragging you through shit. History’s a cruel bitch that repeats itself – us together would be dangerous, and hurting you, it’d end up fucking killing me.’

So, it end’s before it even begins. Arabella didn’t know what to say, she had never seen Alex so honest before and it truly humbled her. Deep down, she rationalized what he was saying; he wasn’t rejecting her per se, more protecting her from a reality she tried to ignore – the Alex she wanted him to be and the Alex he knew he was. Sacrificing; it was the marker of someone who truly cared, something she’d never forget. The bond they had forged three years ago hadn’t been broken tonight, just cemented.

Arabella smiled sadly and nodded, tilting her head towards him until their foreheads rested against each other. A small toothless smile broke out across his face, highlighting the slight dimples in his cheeks. ‘Thank you, I love you’ he whispered before closing the gap between their lips. The kiss was torturous; slow, all lip, beautiful and meaningful. It was Alexander.