Status: In progress! :)
One in a Million
"Should I let you fall? Lose it all? So maybe you can remember yourself."
He hadn’t slept for days. The whole talking-to-himself thing only confirmed that he was in fact losing his mind over her.
“You’re an idiot. Such a stupid idiot.” He’d kicked at his bed and pulled at his hair out of sheer frustration.
All his life, he’d found relief in his music whenever something was bothering him. With every girlfriend, every fight with his family, every breakup, and every other disappointment that he’d ever felt, he’d always turned to his guitar and a song for comfort.
It would work every time. He’d feel like some of all that heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
But not that time.
She was everywhere. In every thought he had, every lyric he tried to sing, every note he tried to play, all he saw was her face and all he heard was her voice. There was no escaping her.
“Nick, you’re losing it. Remember what happened the last time you acted this dramatically over a girl?”
Joe couldn’t even begin to understand. As he stared up at his ceiling, sprawled on the bed she had sat on just days ago, his brother stood in the doorway. Nick couldn’t see him, but he knew he was shaking his head at him.
“That’s it. We’re going out and snapping you out of this.”
Minutes passed and he felt pieces of clothing being thrown on his legs. He looked down, spotting his favorite pair of black jeans, a dress shirt, and a yellow skinny tie.
“Put these on,” his brother ordered before leaving the room, “Now.”
His head met the pillow again and he groaned, convinced he’d messed up every chance he had with the only person who knew the real him.
--------------------------------
She hadn’t called him like she said she could, but she didn’t care.
Fear was the strongest thing she felt from the moment she’d returned to her hotel forward. She peered out the window through a small opening in the curtains and saw them. There must have been over a dozen of them all waiting for her to come down.
She hadn’t left her room out of that fear for days.
From the view of her twelfth floor window, they almost looked like tiny ants. But she knew up close, with their shoving and loud buzzing, they were like a swarm of bees. They’d followed her nonstop from the bus stop to the hotel with their flashing cameras and a long list of questions. She had no idea how to handle them. She’d led out a few mumbles of “Excuse me,” but after the fifteenth or so failed attempt, she’d settled on a loud, “Get the fuck out of my way,” she seemed to do the trick.
She thought they would leave come morning, but she was wrong. They’d been there for so long and she didn’t know why.
She escaped from the window and sank to the floor against the wall. More than anything, she was scared, and she had nobody to turn to for help. Caroline had never come to check on her after she had stormed out of the Jonas house in tears to catch the bus home, and she was way too nervous to even think of Nick.
She felt like a fool for so many reasons: for letting the paparazzi get a hold of her so easily, for falling for Aiden all those years ago, for ever leaving Arizona, and especially for everything that had happened between her and Nick.
She regretted ever calling him back that first day.
So much crying had been done that her tissue box was running on empty and she couldn’t even go out to buy more. Her phone had been ringing off the hook for hours, but she didn’t care. She didn’t want to talk to anyone. Ever. People only led to having expectations, and expectations always led to disappointment. She realized how deep her wounds actually went and was convinced she discovered the reasons behind it all.
Her eyes landed on her suitcase and she knew what she had to do.
---------------------------
He noticed a new tattoo on Jamie’s shoulder when she welcomed them into the house, placing a quick kiss on their cheeks.
“It’s a bummer Kevin couldn’t make,” she said, shutting the door behind them. The music was so loud, he could barely hear her. But Joe got every word.
“He had Danielle stuff,” Joe explained, “Date night or something.”
“Aw, how sweet. Maybe next time, then. Make yourselves at home!”
He never fully understood how Jamie could tolerate hosting so many house parties. She made it clear he was always welcome, but he rarely ever came.
He received a fair share of excited greetings from other guests as he entered the house. They were used to Joe coming but not him. He was the bright new attraction.
The two brothers made their way to the far wall and leaned against it. Joe escaped for a moment but soon returned with drinks, one for each of them.
“Loosen up,” Joe told him.
Nick looked down into his cup suspiciously.
“It’s just ginger ale.” Joe laughed. “Diet.”
Nick nodded. “Shouldn’t you be looking for Caroline?”
Joe shook his head. “She has an audition tonight. I told you before.”
“Sorry. Must’ve forgotten.”
Joe took a sip of his own soda and waved to some people Nick didn’t know.
“I’m going to the bathroom.”
Joe rolled his eyes. “Nick, dude, seriously? We came for a party and I’m pretty sure there’s no party in the bathroom. Talk to people! Meet them. Mingle.”
“I don’t feel like ‘mingling,’ Joe.”
“How else do you expect to forget about her?”
“I don’t.” He forced his untouched soda into Joe’s free hand. “I’ll be back.”
He asked around a few times to find out where the bathroom was, but no one was really helpful. They were either too drunk or too high to even answer. He felt so out of place. That wasn’t his idea of a good time.
He tried to hurry past the couples making out, the stoners getting stoned, and that reeking smell of alcohol he hated. He was turning a corner in a hallway upstairs when he saw her straddling someone in a chair. Hands were everywhere: up shirts, down pants, in hair. He couldn’t see her face, but her hair was too familiar. He froze.
For some reason, all he wanted to do at that moment was rip her off him and beat the guy up for touching her like that.
Seconds after his hands balled into fists and his breathing quickened, her face was revealed. She looked upwards in a daze as her partner sucked messily on her neck.
It wasn’t her.
The facial structure was all wrong. Aalia was thinner, sleeker, better.
He tried to relax, shaking the suddenly violent thoughts from his head, and continued his search.
After finding the bathroom and washing his hands with too cold water, he emerged into the hallway once again. He ignored the vibrations in his pocket, knowing they were just “Where are you?” texts from Joe.
But then he really saw her, and he was sure of it that time.
She was alone in a chair, meddling in the small red purse on her lap. She was in a short dress, her hair down and teased from the roots. He could see her face and those eyes clearly. There was no doubt it was Aalia, and he thought she looked beautiful.
She couldn’t find whatever she was looking for and stood up out of frustration, stumbling over a bit. He could tell something was wrong.
He approached her carefully, calling out her name over the music. He saw her meet his gaze and it took a few extra seconds for her to register who it was. But when she did, she let out a loud bellowing laugh.
“Nick fucking Jonas. Of course I’d see you here. Should’ve known, huh?”
A few nearby guests recognized him and cheered. He nodded towards them uncomfortably but didn’t smile.
“Yeah, everyone knows you and adores you and blah blah blah,” she said when his eyes met hers again.
He eyed her disbelievingly.
“Aalia?”
“What?” she answered with too much emphasis before she looked at his chest, “You look sexy in that tie.”
“Are you drunk?”
She laughed. “Drunk? Me?”
He wanted as her facial expressions were too animated and every word she said was too dramatic.
“Yeah,” she admitted.
“You’re underage. It’s illegal.”
“Chill out. I’m a big girl. A big, crazy, stupid girl.”
She stumbled clumsily again, falling into his chest with a giggle.
“Alright.” He took her hand and snaked his other arm securely around her waist. “I’m getting you out of here.”
“Oh, big, strong rock star to the rescue. I feel so safe and sound.”
He led her down the hall and practically had to carry her down the stairs. She giggled the entire way and he could smell the alcohol on her skin.
“Dude, where have you been? Going to the bathroom doesn’t take half an hour.” Joe’s complaints were mostly ignored. “Wait, is that--?”
“I’m taking her home,” he told Joe, who rushed to follow him.
“Hey, Joe,” she said as she wobbled and Nick held onto her tighter.
“Is she drunk?”
Nick didn’t answer. He was too determined to get her to safety, even if she wouldn’t be able to remember it in the morning.
“I’ll go with you.”
“It’s fine. I got it. Enjoy your party.”
The group on the dance floor chanted Joe’s name and he tried to ignore it.
“Go, Joe. It’s okay.”
Joe eyed his brother carefully. “Fine. But be careful. And take care of her,” he said in all seriousness, “She’s important to Caroline, so she’s important to me.”
“She’s everything to me.”
He led her out the door, ignoring the sound of his name being yelled around the room by people demanding his attention.
“I don’t need you. I can take care of myself.” She struggled under his hold and he could barely make out her words as they slurred together.
“I’m here for you whether you need me or not, Aalia.”
He got her safely buckled into the passenger seat of his car despite her squirming and inconsistent laughter.
He drove her to the hotel he’d heard Caroline talking to Joe about the other day. He saw the flashes of the cameras in the parking lot and swore under his breath.
“They’re still here. Figures. They’ve been here for fucking days,” she shouted, “Days!”
He parked the car and tried to remain calm as they crowded.
“Aalia, we’re at your hotel.” He turned to her.
She giggled. “No shit, Sherlock.”
“I need to know which room you’re in. Can you remember?”
“Of course. What do you think I am? Stupid? ‘Cause I think he did.” She laughed ominously but he didn’t know what she was talking about. “He thought I was an idiot, didn’t he?”
“Your room, Aalia. What number is it? Do you have your key?”
Her face morphed into confusion.
“Um, I think so. I dunno, actually. Who cares? No friends, no boyfriend, might as well no place to live either.”
He groaned and began looking in her purse for the card key. Years of staying in hotels all over the world gave him enough experience to know what it looked like, but sorting through all her belongings was the hard part. He never understood why girls stuffed so much in their purses, even one as small as hers. He sifted through it with no luck.
“Are those pockets?” He looked at her dress.
“Yeah. Cool, huh?”
His hands moved to her hips where the little pockets were sewn and gently dug through them to find the key. She giggled loudly underneath him.
“Stop! That tickles.”
“Got it.” His hand emerged holding a thin plastic card key. “Okay, it’s gonna get kind of loud now, but I need you to stay calm, okay?”
“Me? I’m always calm.”
He took a deep breath before opening his door. The noises and constant flashing were overwhelming. He’d never seen them in such frenzy before. But he’d had enough experience with them to make his way around the black vehicle to Aalia. He raised his voice to them when he asked them to step away from the door. They obeyed, slightly taken aback because he was normally silent in their presence.
He opened her door and moved quickly. All she could see was an explosion of blinding white lights. She could feel his hands on her, fiddling with something near the left side of her hip. He helped her to her feet and held her against him as they began to walk.
He held his breath the entire time.
When they finally entered the quiet of the hotel, he sighed. The worst part was over. He’d deal with the aftershock later.
He made his way up to her room, holding her securely against him, and she fell as she walked through the doorway, tripping on her shoes.
“Ow!”
He helped her up and laid her on the bed. Her purse was left on the floor with its contents spilling out.
“Do you need anything?” he asked.
“I’m good. Fan-fucking-tastic.” She sighed deeply, closing her eyes.
“Alright. I’ll go then.”
“No.” Her eyes flew open. “Stay.”
Her voice almost sounded normal again to him. He wanted to stay with her, but he was conflicted. Anything that would be said or done between that moment and the next morning was unpredictable and that scared him. But he gave in.
“They say drunken words are sober thoughts,” she said quietly once he sat down on the bed beside her, “Or something like that.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“’Cause you’re a little goodie two shoes.”
“I just don’t drink and you don’t either. Or at least I thought you didn’t.”
She couldn’t look at him.
“”I don’t.”
“Then what’s your deal?” he asked, “Why are you so drunk right now you can’t even walk?”
She scoffed. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
“I’m a fuck-up,” she exclaimed.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I needed to get rid of that feeling.”
“What feeling?”
“That worthless feeling, Nick! I’m so fucking worthless and I finally realize it.”
He remained silent, knowing everything she was about to say was everything she’d been holding inside her all that time.
“I fucked up everything with my life because I’m an idiot,” she went on, “I thought I was doing it right. I thought everything was fine and everything was always gonna be fine.”
She sat up clumsily against the headboard and stared up at the ivory ceiling.
“I thought he loved me.”
He saw tears welling up in those eyes and suddenly it was like her pain was his too.
“I thought we were gonna be together forever. He said so. He promised. I’m so stupid. How could I have been so stupid? I believed every single word. I thought we were meant to be together. Then when he told me about her, he said it like it wasn’t even a big deal. Like it’s not supposed to hurt me like he stabbed a fucking dagger in my back.”
She wiped underneath her eyes.
“She was like a model, Nick. Like Jessica Alba meets Megan Fox and Miranda Kerr and I don’t even know…Even when she’s pregnant, she looks like one. Now I see why I spent all that time at the gym with Dyl running my ass off like it’d make him come back. I was such an idiot. I wasn’t worth anything. Not even an ounce of respect. I gave him everything. I gave him my heart and my trust and my forgiveness so many times. I gave him my fucking virginity because I’m stupid.”
He had to remind himself to keep himself calm.
“I’ll never be a normal person because of him,” she said softly, “I realize that now. I’m antisocial and awkward and strange and afraid of commitment because of him.”
“No, Aalia, that’s—"
“It started even earlier than that thought,” she went on, her voice slowing down with each sentence that passed her lips, “I should’ve known love doesn’t last from my parents. They didn’t even try to stay married. My dad just left because I was worth his time.”
She paused to look at him.
“I’ll never be good enough for the people I love most,” she almost whispered.
He saw something in her eyes that he hadn’t seen in them before—raw honesty.
“I wanted to kiss you,” she said with a chuckle, “I really wanted to so bad. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t because of him. Because I know I’m broken and ordinary and you deserve something better. Someone who’s worth something.”
His hand fell on her tear-stained face.
“You’re Nick fucking Jonas,” she said, laughing. The whites of her eyes were turning pink. “I know you. I know how you like to be alone and you hate all the extra attention people give you like back at Jamie’s and you love sitting with your guitar at night making music. I know you keep your songwriting notebook taped under your bed and you like your toast with almond butter instead of jam ‘cause you’re weird or something.”
He laughed, but he also hurt. He hurt because he knew she wouldn’t remember their conversation in a few hours. He hurt because he wouldn’t be able to explain it all to her if she ever asked. But most of all, he hurt because she hurt.
“I opened up to you with our stupid phone calls and that stupid game you wanted to play because I’m an idiot.” She looked away from him. “I’m scared of this because I let you in and I don’t do that. I’m vulnerable now.”
She yawned and her voice became sleepy. She closed her eyes and laughed.
“I’m such a fuck-up,” she repeated.
He removed his hand from her face and lowered her body so that her head was laying on the pillows.
“Don’t go, Nick. I need you.”
If she’d said those same words while she was sober, his heart would’ve done cartwheels from within his chest.
He laid down beside her and she reached for his hand.
“I’m sorry, Nick.”
-----------------------------------
A bright white light woke her and she was startled. Her eyes felt heavy and her muscles felt sore. The very last thing she wanted to do was move.
She felt him before she saw him.
A warmth was beneath her and draping over her shoulders. She felt his chest under her head gently rising and falling as he breathed, and his arm was wrapped loosely around her.
What happened last night?
She tried to sit up, bringing a hand to her head to soothe the migraine she felt. It was then that she noticed how little she was wearing.
A strapless neon bra and yellow panties.
Her eyes widened and she hid herself up to her chest under the covers. She looked at his face and he was already awake.
''Nick? Why are you here?''
He expected that question.
''You don't remember last night.''
She nervously shook her head and he nodded.
''I figured.''
She rubbed her temples. ''I think I'm hungover.''
His lack of a response confirmed it.
''Oh, God...'' She covered herself more with the thin sheets. ''Did we…have sex?''
He looked at her in shock.
''What?''
''We're in bed and I'm in my underwear.''
''No, no, we did not have sex.'' He shook his head multiple times, embarrassed.
''Then what happened?''
He sat up against the headboard and rubbed his eyes. He'd never fallen asleep that night. He'd just stayed up, watching her, thinking. Constantly thinking.
''You look like shit,'' she told him, eyeing his messy curls.
''Thanks, so do you.''
He went on to tell her about their eventful night. About how Joe had forced him to go to Jamie's. About how he'd found her so drunk she could barely stand. About how he brought her to the hotel and stayed to make sure she'd be okay.
He left out a few key points.
''God, I'm so sorry. I feel awful.'' She wouldn't stop apologizing.
''It's fine, really. It happens.''
''How can you say that? I was probably such a bitch the whole night.''
He said nothing about how difficult it had been to get past the paparazzi or endure her heartbreaking honesty hour.
''I don't remember anything after getting to Jamie's. Everything's fuzzy.''
Her eyebrows creased together as she tried to remember. Even with her running mascara and smeared lipstick, he still thought she was beautiful.
''I think it was around four when you woke up the first time,'' he admitted, ''You mumbled something about how your dress was stupid and just took it off. Your shoes, too.''
He motioned towards a heap of black material on the floor beside a pair of red pumps.
''Then you went back to sleep.''
She shook her head in embarrassment.
''I'm so sorry.''
His phone vibrated from the side table and he reached over to check it.
''You didn't need to stay the whole night,'' she said when she saw the worried lines on his face, ''Your family must be mad.''
''I had to make sure you'd be alright.'' He answered a furious text message from his father. ''Don't worry about my family. I'll deal with them later.''
''You can go now if you need to. I'll be okay.''
He laughed. ''I've been gone for almost thirteen hours. I don't think a few more would really make a difference.''
He saw her eyes widen and she frantically started searching for a clock.
''Thirteen hours? What time is it?''
''Almost one in the afternoon.'' He showed her his phone. ''We got back from the party at like midnight and you've been sleeping ever since.''
''Oh, God. You must have so much important stuff to do and...'' Her voice trailed off as she thought.
''And what?''
Her eyes met his. ''Did I say anything to you last night?''
He tried to look confused. ''Like what?''
''Like anything.''
''No, not really. I mean, you laughed a lot and stuff. But you didn't say much...'' He didn't want to admit she had opened up about every pain she'd ever felt because he knew how she hated being exposed.
''You're lying,'' she said almost immediately, ''Your voice gives you away. It gets all drawn out when you lie.''
''What? That's ridicu--''
''I need to know. Please.''
His sigh was long. ''You may have said a few things when we got back.''
She groaned. ''Oh, no. What did I say? Nothing stupid, I hope.''
''Nothing I haven't already heard,'' he told her, partially lying. He'd heard things about Aiden and her parents. Plenty of things. He probably could've guessed she'd felt that way even if she hadn't told him the night before. But all the stuff about him--especially about wanting to kiss him--was news to him.
''If I insulted you in any way, I'm so sorry.'' She held her face in her hands.
''You didn't.''
''I shouldn't have even gone to the party. I'm an idiot.'' All the sudden regret was thanks to her pounding hangover.
''Why did you go in the first place?''
''Stupid reasons, of course,'' she answered, ''The stupid paparazzi were practically stalking me outside the hotel and I couldn't even leave my room. I guess that's the price I pay for knowing you.''
She was just teasing him, but his heart sank a little lower in his chest. He knew that was too high of a price.
''So you went out? I don't understand.''
''They made me feel so trapped. I needed to show them and show myself that they can't have that power. And on top of that, I had a lot of stress building up that I just wanted to get rid of. I remembered Jamie's place from the first time I met your brother, and I just wanted to get my mind off things. I didn't plan to drink until I got there. Big mistake, I know.''
He nodded even though he knew she wasn't completely telling the truth. She had poured out everything the night before. Every painful emotion she'd been feeling and every reason she went to the party. But now that she was sober, she just summed it all up into ''stress.''
He finally saw it up close. Her wall.
She built it up high so people wouldn't use her or abandon her like they had done so many times before. Somehow he had gotten through it, and that's what scared her.
''I should get dressed,'' she said. The tension was building in her already sore muscles. ''Can you not look for a second?''
He complied, covering his eyes with his hand, despite the fact that he'd already seen it all. Somewhere in her drunken dream state, she'd pushed off the covers and threw herself on his chest while asleep. He saw every tanned plane, every dipped curve, and every smooth surface of what wasn't covered by the little that was left on. She'd been even more beautiful underneath all that clothing than he'd imagined.
''You can order room service if you want,'' he heard her yell once she reached the bathroom, ''My treat.''
He tried not to think of how much trouble he'd be in once he got home.
-----------------
''Dad, look. I had to make sure she was alright. Yes. She's a friend. Yeah, a good friend. Because you never asked about her, Dad.''
She tried not to eavesdrop while he was on the phone, but it was hard not to when his voice kept raising.
''I know this isn't good. But I was trying to be a good person. Of course not. I know. Well the media is crap, Dad!''
She escaped from the humid bathroom to grab a hairbrush from the dresser. She tried to be as quiet as possible, but he noticed her in the vanity mirror and changed composure.
''I gotta go, Dad. I know. I'll be home soon. I know, Dad. I'm sorry...''
She heard him sigh and set the phone on the table.
''You look nice,'' she heard him say. He took in her yoga shorts and hoodie.
''Thanks.'' She blushed, not understanding how he could possibly think she looked anything better than tired and hungover.
He tried to smile at her.
''You got in trouble for being with me,'' she stated. The worried lines of his face deepened.
He nodded, taking a seat on the bed. She took note of how he'd made the bed for her, fixing the sheets and smoothing out the covers. She didn't think celebrities were capable of simple human tasks like that.
''Do you have a curfew or something?''
''No, no. It's not that.''
''Then what is it?''
He searched her eyes and all he saw was fear. He'd seen that same fear arise the night before and it hurt him.
The web page was opened on his iPhone and he waited as she read, her facial expression unreadable.
When she finished, she couldn't look at him.
''Aalia?''
She shook her head at him.
''Aalia, it's not your fault.''
It was an article for an online tabloid. She saw the first picture was taken the day she met him at Venice Beach. It showed her and Caroline running away from the camera, and she had whipped her head around to catch a last glimpse at Nick. The second picture was from when they had caught her running to the hotel from the bus stop. Her face was puzzled and afraid.
But the rest of the pictures were unbelievable for her. Random ones from her at the front desk of her hotel, putting milk in a cart at the grocery store, walking towards Caroline's car with his sunglasses in her hand. Pictures of little everyday things she'd been doing. Pictures she was completely unaware were being taken.
There were even shots of Nick hauling her against his side the night before. She couldn't tear her eyes from the worry in Nick's eyes and the pitiful, drunk gaze in hers.
The article was all about the brothers and their ''secret affairs'' with two unknown girls. After the first few sentences of absolute ridicule, she couldn't read anymore.
''This is not your fault,'' she heard him repeat sternly that time. She had no words for him. ''They does this all the time. One picture of us with a girl and they say we're dating.''
She stared at the pictures without blinking.
''This is normal, Aalia,'' he told her.
''Maybe for you.''
He knew this invasion of privacy defeated the whole purpose of her wall. ''Please, Aalia--''
''They must think I'm trashy,'' she said, ''Look at me. I look pathetic.''
''You're not pathetic.''
''Why would your dad be pissed at you if this were normal? Your image is at stake, isn't it?''
His silence told her she was correct.
''I'm sorry,'' she looked down, ''I'll stay away from you from now on.''
''That's not okay with me and I know it's not okay with you either. It can't be.''
''Then what do you expect me to do? I can't handle paparazzi like you can. I'm not famous. I'm from an apartment in Arizona. I don't even own a camera. Maybe I should just go back home. I don't belong here. This life isn't mine.''
''But it's mine.''
He was pleading, almost begging her.
''This life is mine and I want you in it,'' he said, ''To be my friend.''
That word stuck in both of their minds. Friend.
''We'll ask them to stay away from you. I'll tweet something tonight to make the rumors go away. I'll fix this, I promise. Just please don't leave.''
He would've gotten down on his knees to beg her if that's what it took, but he didn't need to. She agreed to try. Just try.
''If it doesn't work,'' he began, ''I'll buy your plane ticket back to Arizona. I promise.''
But they both hoped that wouldn't need to be fulfilled.
“You’re an idiot. Such a stupid idiot.” He’d kicked at his bed and pulled at his hair out of sheer frustration.
All his life, he’d found relief in his music whenever something was bothering him. With every girlfriend, every fight with his family, every breakup, and every other disappointment that he’d ever felt, he’d always turned to his guitar and a song for comfort.
It would work every time. He’d feel like some of all that heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
But not that time.
She was everywhere. In every thought he had, every lyric he tried to sing, every note he tried to play, all he saw was her face and all he heard was her voice. There was no escaping her.
“Nick, you’re losing it. Remember what happened the last time you acted this dramatically over a girl?”
Joe couldn’t even begin to understand. As he stared up at his ceiling, sprawled on the bed she had sat on just days ago, his brother stood in the doorway. Nick couldn’t see him, but he knew he was shaking his head at him.
“That’s it. We’re going out and snapping you out of this.”
Minutes passed and he felt pieces of clothing being thrown on his legs. He looked down, spotting his favorite pair of black jeans, a dress shirt, and a yellow skinny tie.
“Put these on,” his brother ordered before leaving the room, “Now.”
His head met the pillow again and he groaned, convinced he’d messed up every chance he had with the only person who knew the real him.
--------------------------------
She hadn’t called him like she said she could, but she didn’t care.
Fear was the strongest thing she felt from the moment she’d returned to her hotel forward. She peered out the window through a small opening in the curtains and saw them. There must have been over a dozen of them all waiting for her to come down.
She hadn’t left her room out of that fear for days.
From the view of her twelfth floor window, they almost looked like tiny ants. But she knew up close, with their shoving and loud buzzing, they were like a swarm of bees. They’d followed her nonstop from the bus stop to the hotel with their flashing cameras and a long list of questions. She had no idea how to handle them. She’d led out a few mumbles of “Excuse me,” but after the fifteenth or so failed attempt, she’d settled on a loud, “Get the fuck out of my way,” she seemed to do the trick.
She thought they would leave come morning, but she was wrong. They’d been there for so long and she didn’t know why.
She escaped from the window and sank to the floor against the wall. More than anything, she was scared, and she had nobody to turn to for help. Caroline had never come to check on her after she had stormed out of the Jonas house in tears to catch the bus home, and she was way too nervous to even think of Nick.
She felt like a fool for so many reasons: for letting the paparazzi get a hold of her so easily, for falling for Aiden all those years ago, for ever leaving Arizona, and especially for everything that had happened between her and Nick.
She regretted ever calling him back that first day.
So much crying had been done that her tissue box was running on empty and she couldn’t even go out to buy more. Her phone had been ringing off the hook for hours, but she didn’t care. She didn’t want to talk to anyone. Ever. People only led to having expectations, and expectations always led to disappointment. She realized how deep her wounds actually went and was convinced she discovered the reasons behind it all.
Her eyes landed on her suitcase and she knew what she had to do.
---------------------------
He noticed a new tattoo on Jamie’s shoulder when she welcomed them into the house, placing a quick kiss on their cheeks.
“It’s a bummer Kevin couldn’t make,” she said, shutting the door behind them. The music was so loud, he could barely hear her. But Joe got every word.
“He had Danielle stuff,” Joe explained, “Date night or something.”
“Aw, how sweet. Maybe next time, then. Make yourselves at home!”
He never fully understood how Jamie could tolerate hosting so many house parties. She made it clear he was always welcome, but he rarely ever came.
He received a fair share of excited greetings from other guests as he entered the house. They were used to Joe coming but not him. He was the bright new attraction.
The two brothers made their way to the far wall and leaned against it. Joe escaped for a moment but soon returned with drinks, one for each of them.
“Loosen up,” Joe told him.
Nick looked down into his cup suspiciously.
“It’s just ginger ale.” Joe laughed. “Diet.”
Nick nodded. “Shouldn’t you be looking for Caroline?”
Joe shook his head. “She has an audition tonight. I told you before.”
“Sorry. Must’ve forgotten.”
Joe took a sip of his own soda and waved to some people Nick didn’t know.
“I’m going to the bathroom.”
Joe rolled his eyes. “Nick, dude, seriously? We came for a party and I’m pretty sure there’s no party in the bathroom. Talk to people! Meet them. Mingle.”
“I don’t feel like ‘mingling,’ Joe.”
“How else do you expect to forget about her?”
“I don’t.” He forced his untouched soda into Joe’s free hand. “I’ll be back.”
He asked around a few times to find out where the bathroom was, but no one was really helpful. They were either too drunk or too high to even answer. He felt so out of place. That wasn’t his idea of a good time.
He tried to hurry past the couples making out, the stoners getting stoned, and that reeking smell of alcohol he hated. He was turning a corner in a hallway upstairs when he saw her straddling someone in a chair. Hands were everywhere: up shirts, down pants, in hair. He couldn’t see her face, but her hair was too familiar. He froze.
For some reason, all he wanted to do at that moment was rip her off him and beat the guy up for touching her like that.
Seconds after his hands balled into fists and his breathing quickened, her face was revealed. She looked upwards in a daze as her partner sucked messily on her neck.
It wasn’t her.
The facial structure was all wrong. Aalia was thinner, sleeker, better.
He tried to relax, shaking the suddenly violent thoughts from his head, and continued his search.
After finding the bathroom and washing his hands with too cold water, he emerged into the hallway once again. He ignored the vibrations in his pocket, knowing they were just “Where are you?” texts from Joe.
But then he really saw her, and he was sure of it that time.
She was alone in a chair, meddling in the small red purse on her lap. She was in a short dress, her hair down and teased from the roots. He could see her face and those eyes clearly. There was no doubt it was Aalia, and he thought she looked beautiful.
She couldn’t find whatever she was looking for and stood up out of frustration, stumbling over a bit. He could tell something was wrong.
He approached her carefully, calling out her name over the music. He saw her meet his gaze and it took a few extra seconds for her to register who it was. But when she did, she let out a loud bellowing laugh.
“Nick fucking Jonas. Of course I’d see you here. Should’ve known, huh?”
A few nearby guests recognized him and cheered. He nodded towards them uncomfortably but didn’t smile.
“Yeah, everyone knows you and adores you and blah blah blah,” she said when his eyes met hers again.
He eyed her disbelievingly.
“Aalia?”
“What?” she answered with too much emphasis before she looked at his chest, “You look sexy in that tie.”
“Are you drunk?”
She laughed. “Drunk? Me?”
He wanted as her facial expressions were too animated and every word she said was too dramatic.
“Yeah,” she admitted.
“You’re underage. It’s illegal.”
“Chill out. I’m a big girl. A big, crazy, stupid girl.”
She stumbled clumsily again, falling into his chest with a giggle.
“Alright.” He took her hand and snaked his other arm securely around her waist. “I’m getting you out of here.”
“Oh, big, strong rock star to the rescue. I feel so safe and sound.”
He led her down the hall and practically had to carry her down the stairs. She giggled the entire way and he could smell the alcohol on her skin.
“Dude, where have you been? Going to the bathroom doesn’t take half an hour.” Joe’s complaints were mostly ignored. “Wait, is that--?”
“I’m taking her home,” he told Joe, who rushed to follow him.
“Hey, Joe,” she said as she wobbled and Nick held onto her tighter.
“Is she drunk?”
Nick didn’t answer. He was too determined to get her to safety, even if she wouldn’t be able to remember it in the morning.
“I’ll go with you.”
“It’s fine. I got it. Enjoy your party.”
The group on the dance floor chanted Joe’s name and he tried to ignore it.
“Go, Joe. It’s okay.”
Joe eyed his brother carefully. “Fine. But be careful. And take care of her,” he said in all seriousness, “She’s important to Caroline, so she’s important to me.”
“She’s everything to me.”
He led her out the door, ignoring the sound of his name being yelled around the room by people demanding his attention.
“I don’t need you. I can take care of myself.” She struggled under his hold and he could barely make out her words as they slurred together.
“I’m here for you whether you need me or not, Aalia.”
He got her safely buckled into the passenger seat of his car despite her squirming and inconsistent laughter.
He drove her to the hotel he’d heard Caroline talking to Joe about the other day. He saw the flashes of the cameras in the parking lot and swore under his breath.
“They’re still here. Figures. They’ve been here for fucking days,” she shouted, “Days!”
He parked the car and tried to remain calm as they crowded.
“Aalia, we’re at your hotel.” He turned to her.
She giggled. “No shit, Sherlock.”
“I need to know which room you’re in. Can you remember?”
“Of course. What do you think I am? Stupid? ‘Cause I think he did.” She laughed ominously but he didn’t know what she was talking about. “He thought I was an idiot, didn’t he?”
“Your room, Aalia. What number is it? Do you have your key?”
Her face morphed into confusion.
“Um, I think so. I dunno, actually. Who cares? No friends, no boyfriend, might as well no place to live either.”
He groaned and began looking in her purse for the card key. Years of staying in hotels all over the world gave him enough experience to know what it looked like, but sorting through all her belongings was the hard part. He never understood why girls stuffed so much in their purses, even one as small as hers. He sifted through it with no luck.
“Are those pockets?” He looked at her dress.
“Yeah. Cool, huh?”
His hands moved to her hips where the little pockets were sewn and gently dug through them to find the key. She giggled loudly underneath him.
“Stop! That tickles.”
“Got it.” His hand emerged holding a thin plastic card key. “Okay, it’s gonna get kind of loud now, but I need you to stay calm, okay?”
“Me? I’m always calm.”
He took a deep breath before opening his door. The noises and constant flashing were overwhelming. He’d never seen them in such frenzy before. But he’d had enough experience with them to make his way around the black vehicle to Aalia. He raised his voice to them when he asked them to step away from the door. They obeyed, slightly taken aback because he was normally silent in their presence.
He opened her door and moved quickly. All she could see was an explosion of blinding white lights. She could feel his hands on her, fiddling with something near the left side of her hip. He helped her to her feet and held her against him as they began to walk.
He held his breath the entire time.
When they finally entered the quiet of the hotel, he sighed. The worst part was over. He’d deal with the aftershock later.
He made his way up to her room, holding her securely against him, and she fell as she walked through the doorway, tripping on her shoes.
“Ow!”
He helped her up and laid her on the bed. Her purse was left on the floor with its contents spilling out.
“Do you need anything?” he asked.
“I’m good. Fan-fucking-tastic.” She sighed deeply, closing her eyes.
“Alright. I’ll go then.”
“No.” Her eyes flew open. “Stay.”
Her voice almost sounded normal again to him. He wanted to stay with her, but he was conflicted. Anything that would be said or done between that moment and the next morning was unpredictable and that scared him. But he gave in.
“They say drunken words are sober thoughts,” she said quietly once he sat down on the bed beside her, “Or something like that.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“’Cause you’re a little goodie two shoes.”
“I just don’t drink and you don’t either. Or at least I thought you didn’t.”
She couldn’t look at him.
“”I don’t.”
“Then what’s your deal?” he asked, “Why are you so drunk right now you can’t even walk?”
She scoffed. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
“I’m a fuck-up,” she exclaimed.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I needed to get rid of that feeling.”
“What feeling?”
“That worthless feeling, Nick! I’m so fucking worthless and I finally realize it.”
He remained silent, knowing everything she was about to say was everything she’d been holding inside her all that time.
“I fucked up everything with my life because I’m an idiot,” she went on, “I thought I was doing it right. I thought everything was fine and everything was always gonna be fine.”
She sat up clumsily against the headboard and stared up at the ivory ceiling.
“I thought he loved me.”
He saw tears welling up in those eyes and suddenly it was like her pain was his too.
“I thought we were gonna be together forever. He said so. He promised. I’m so stupid. How could I have been so stupid? I believed every single word. I thought we were meant to be together. Then when he told me about her, he said it like it wasn’t even a big deal. Like it’s not supposed to hurt me like he stabbed a fucking dagger in my back.”
She wiped underneath her eyes.
“She was like a model, Nick. Like Jessica Alba meets Megan Fox and Miranda Kerr and I don’t even know…Even when she’s pregnant, she looks like one. Now I see why I spent all that time at the gym with Dyl running my ass off like it’d make him come back. I was such an idiot. I wasn’t worth anything. Not even an ounce of respect. I gave him everything. I gave him my heart and my trust and my forgiveness so many times. I gave him my fucking virginity because I’m stupid.”
He had to remind himself to keep himself calm.
“I’ll never be a normal person because of him,” she said softly, “I realize that now. I’m antisocial and awkward and strange and afraid of commitment because of him.”
“No, Aalia, that’s—"
“It started even earlier than that thought,” she went on, her voice slowing down with each sentence that passed her lips, “I should’ve known love doesn’t last from my parents. They didn’t even try to stay married. My dad just left because I was worth his time.”
She paused to look at him.
“I’ll never be good enough for the people I love most,” she almost whispered.
He saw something in her eyes that he hadn’t seen in them before—raw honesty.
“I wanted to kiss you,” she said with a chuckle, “I really wanted to so bad. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t because of him. Because I know I’m broken and ordinary and you deserve something better. Someone who’s worth something.”
His hand fell on her tear-stained face.
“You’re Nick fucking Jonas,” she said, laughing. The whites of her eyes were turning pink. “I know you. I know how you like to be alone and you hate all the extra attention people give you like back at Jamie’s and you love sitting with your guitar at night making music. I know you keep your songwriting notebook taped under your bed and you like your toast with almond butter instead of jam ‘cause you’re weird or something.”
He laughed, but he also hurt. He hurt because he knew she wouldn’t remember their conversation in a few hours. He hurt because he wouldn’t be able to explain it all to her if she ever asked. But most of all, he hurt because she hurt.
“I opened up to you with our stupid phone calls and that stupid game you wanted to play because I’m an idiot.” She looked away from him. “I’m scared of this because I let you in and I don’t do that. I’m vulnerable now.”
She yawned and her voice became sleepy. She closed her eyes and laughed.
“I’m such a fuck-up,” she repeated.
He removed his hand from her face and lowered her body so that her head was laying on the pillows.
“Don’t go, Nick. I need you.”
If she’d said those same words while she was sober, his heart would’ve done cartwheels from within his chest.
He laid down beside her and she reached for his hand.
“I’m sorry, Nick.”
-----------------------------------
A bright white light woke her and she was startled. Her eyes felt heavy and her muscles felt sore. The very last thing she wanted to do was move.
She felt him before she saw him.
A warmth was beneath her and draping over her shoulders. She felt his chest under her head gently rising and falling as he breathed, and his arm was wrapped loosely around her.
What happened last night?
She tried to sit up, bringing a hand to her head to soothe the migraine she felt. It was then that she noticed how little she was wearing.
A strapless neon bra and yellow panties.
Her eyes widened and she hid herself up to her chest under the covers. She looked at his face and he was already awake.
''Nick? Why are you here?''
He expected that question.
''You don't remember last night.''
She nervously shook her head and he nodded.
''I figured.''
She rubbed her temples. ''I think I'm hungover.''
His lack of a response confirmed it.
''Oh, God...'' She covered herself more with the thin sheets. ''Did we…have sex?''
He looked at her in shock.
''What?''
''We're in bed and I'm in my underwear.''
''No, no, we did not have sex.'' He shook his head multiple times, embarrassed.
''Then what happened?''
He sat up against the headboard and rubbed his eyes. He'd never fallen asleep that night. He'd just stayed up, watching her, thinking. Constantly thinking.
''You look like shit,'' she told him, eyeing his messy curls.
''Thanks, so do you.''
He went on to tell her about their eventful night. About how Joe had forced him to go to Jamie's. About how he'd found her so drunk she could barely stand. About how he brought her to the hotel and stayed to make sure she'd be okay.
He left out a few key points.
''God, I'm so sorry. I feel awful.'' She wouldn't stop apologizing.
''It's fine, really. It happens.''
''How can you say that? I was probably such a bitch the whole night.''
He said nothing about how difficult it had been to get past the paparazzi or endure her heartbreaking honesty hour.
''I don't remember anything after getting to Jamie's. Everything's fuzzy.''
Her eyebrows creased together as she tried to remember. Even with her running mascara and smeared lipstick, he still thought she was beautiful.
''I think it was around four when you woke up the first time,'' he admitted, ''You mumbled something about how your dress was stupid and just took it off. Your shoes, too.''
He motioned towards a heap of black material on the floor beside a pair of red pumps.
''Then you went back to sleep.''
She shook her head in embarrassment.
''I'm so sorry.''
His phone vibrated from the side table and he reached over to check it.
''You didn't need to stay the whole night,'' she said when she saw the worried lines on his face, ''Your family must be mad.''
''I had to make sure you'd be alright.'' He answered a furious text message from his father. ''Don't worry about my family. I'll deal with them later.''
''You can go now if you need to. I'll be okay.''
He laughed. ''I've been gone for almost thirteen hours. I don't think a few more would really make a difference.''
He saw her eyes widen and she frantically started searching for a clock.
''Thirteen hours? What time is it?''
''Almost one in the afternoon.'' He showed her his phone. ''We got back from the party at like midnight and you've been sleeping ever since.''
''Oh, God. You must have so much important stuff to do and...'' Her voice trailed off as she thought.
''And what?''
Her eyes met his. ''Did I say anything to you last night?''
He tried to look confused. ''Like what?''
''Like anything.''
''No, not really. I mean, you laughed a lot and stuff. But you didn't say much...'' He didn't want to admit she had opened up about every pain she'd ever felt because he knew how she hated being exposed.
''You're lying,'' she said almost immediately, ''Your voice gives you away. It gets all drawn out when you lie.''
''What? That's ridicu--''
''I need to know. Please.''
His sigh was long. ''You may have said a few things when we got back.''
She groaned. ''Oh, no. What did I say? Nothing stupid, I hope.''
''Nothing I haven't already heard,'' he told her, partially lying. He'd heard things about Aiden and her parents. Plenty of things. He probably could've guessed she'd felt that way even if she hadn't told him the night before. But all the stuff about him--especially about wanting to kiss him--was news to him.
''If I insulted you in any way, I'm so sorry.'' She held her face in her hands.
''You didn't.''
''I shouldn't have even gone to the party. I'm an idiot.'' All the sudden regret was thanks to her pounding hangover.
''Why did you go in the first place?''
''Stupid reasons, of course,'' she answered, ''The stupid paparazzi were practically stalking me outside the hotel and I couldn't even leave my room. I guess that's the price I pay for knowing you.''
She was just teasing him, but his heart sank a little lower in his chest. He knew that was too high of a price.
''So you went out? I don't understand.''
''They made me feel so trapped. I needed to show them and show myself that they can't have that power. And on top of that, I had a lot of stress building up that I just wanted to get rid of. I remembered Jamie's place from the first time I met your brother, and I just wanted to get my mind off things. I didn't plan to drink until I got there. Big mistake, I know.''
He nodded even though he knew she wasn't completely telling the truth. She had poured out everything the night before. Every painful emotion she'd been feeling and every reason she went to the party. But now that she was sober, she just summed it all up into ''stress.''
He finally saw it up close. Her wall.
She built it up high so people wouldn't use her or abandon her like they had done so many times before. Somehow he had gotten through it, and that's what scared her.
''I should get dressed,'' she said. The tension was building in her already sore muscles. ''Can you not look for a second?''
He complied, covering his eyes with his hand, despite the fact that he'd already seen it all. Somewhere in her drunken dream state, she'd pushed off the covers and threw herself on his chest while asleep. He saw every tanned plane, every dipped curve, and every smooth surface of what wasn't covered by the little that was left on. She'd been even more beautiful underneath all that clothing than he'd imagined.
''You can order room service if you want,'' he heard her yell once she reached the bathroom, ''My treat.''
He tried not to think of how much trouble he'd be in once he got home.
-----------------
''Dad, look. I had to make sure she was alright. Yes. She's a friend. Yeah, a good friend. Because you never asked about her, Dad.''
She tried not to eavesdrop while he was on the phone, but it was hard not to when his voice kept raising.
''I know this isn't good. But I was trying to be a good person. Of course not. I know. Well the media is crap, Dad!''
She escaped from the humid bathroom to grab a hairbrush from the dresser. She tried to be as quiet as possible, but he noticed her in the vanity mirror and changed composure.
''I gotta go, Dad. I know. I'll be home soon. I know, Dad. I'm sorry...''
She heard him sigh and set the phone on the table.
''You look nice,'' she heard him say. He took in her yoga shorts and hoodie.
''Thanks.'' She blushed, not understanding how he could possibly think she looked anything better than tired and hungover.
He tried to smile at her.
''You got in trouble for being with me,'' she stated. The worried lines of his face deepened.
He nodded, taking a seat on the bed. She took note of how he'd made the bed for her, fixing the sheets and smoothing out the covers. She didn't think celebrities were capable of simple human tasks like that.
''Do you have a curfew or something?''
''No, no. It's not that.''
''Then what is it?''
He searched her eyes and all he saw was fear. He'd seen that same fear arise the night before and it hurt him.
The web page was opened on his iPhone and he waited as she read, her facial expression unreadable.
When she finished, she couldn't look at him.
''Aalia?''
She shook her head at him.
''Aalia, it's not your fault.''
It was an article for an online tabloid. She saw the first picture was taken the day she met him at Venice Beach. It showed her and Caroline running away from the camera, and she had whipped her head around to catch a last glimpse at Nick. The second picture was from when they had caught her running to the hotel from the bus stop. Her face was puzzled and afraid.
But the rest of the pictures were unbelievable for her. Random ones from her at the front desk of her hotel, putting milk in a cart at the grocery store, walking towards Caroline's car with his sunglasses in her hand. Pictures of little everyday things she'd been doing. Pictures she was completely unaware were being taken.
There were even shots of Nick hauling her against his side the night before. She couldn't tear her eyes from the worry in Nick's eyes and the pitiful, drunk gaze in hers.
The article was all about the brothers and their ''secret affairs'' with two unknown girls. After the first few sentences of absolute ridicule, she couldn't read anymore.
''This is not your fault,'' she heard him repeat sternly that time. She had no words for him. ''They does this all the time. One picture of us with a girl and they say we're dating.''
She stared at the pictures without blinking.
''This is normal, Aalia,'' he told her.
''Maybe for you.''
He knew this invasion of privacy defeated the whole purpose of her wall. ''Please, Aalia--''
''They must think I'm trashy,'' she said, ''Look at me. I look pathetic.''
''You're not pathetic.''
''Why would your dad be pissed at you if this were normal? Your image is at stake, isn't it?''
His silence told her she was correct.
''I'm sorry,'' she looked down, ''I'll stay away from you from now on.''
''That's not okay with me and I know it's not okay with you either. It can't be.''
''Then what do you expect me to do? I can't handle paparazzi like you can. I'm not famous. I'm from an apartment in Arizona. I don't even own a camera. Maybe I should just go back home. I don't belong here. This life isn't mine.''
''But it's mine.''
He was pleading, almost begging her.
''This life is mine and I want you in it,'' he said, ''To be my friend.''
That word stuck in both of their minds. Friend.
''We'll ask them to stay away from you. I'll tweet something tonight to make the rumors go away. I'll fix this, I promise. Just please don't leave.''
He would've gotten down on his knees to beg her if that's what it took, but he didn't need to. She agreed to try. Just try.
''If it doesn't work,'' he began, ''I'll buy your plane ticket back to Arizona. I promise.''
But they both hoped that wouldn't need to be fulfilled.