Code of Ethics

His face blanched, and I hoped more than anything that he wouldn’t get sick right there, on the carpet of the shitty motel room. The last thing I needed was an extra fee for ruining their carpet. “Tara, can you please just listen to me for five seconds? I want to explain.”

I wanted to slam the door in his face, hear the crunch of the heavy metal smashing into his nose and the sound of various curses streaming from his mouth as he watched the blood flow like a fountain. I wanted to shout at him until I was blue in the face and my body felt so weak that I had no choice but to collapse to the floor and fall asleep right there among the dust and grime.

But instead, I stepped out of the way, going against every bit of judgment I had in my body. I knew immediately that I was going to regret the decision, but I was too tired to fight myself.

“I’m not dating her.” It was strange, how he hadn’t even used her name, not that I remembered it, since I was kind of forcing myself to forget small details that would make it look like I was stalking him. “It’s just for publicity so I can get my good image back.”

“After I ruined it,” I filled in his statement, losing my patience and good heart. “Of course you are.”

He still looked kind of green, and it took everything I had inside of me to keep from asking if he was okay. I wasn’t supposed to care about him anymore, just like he didn’t care about me anymore. “You didn’t ruin anything,” he whispered. “You have to know that this whole shitty situation has nothing to do with what I wanted, right?”

I stared him down, trying not to falter under the sweetest gaze I’d ever seen in my life. “Maybe it’s not what you wanted, but you’re still going with what your management wants because you’re too much of a wimp to stick up for what you want.”

“Tara, please listen to me. It’s not that easy.” He sighed and ran a hand through his curls, which were starting to go limp with grease. He seriously needed a shower. “I wish that I could just do what I wanted without worrying about media and fan backlash, but I can’t. It’s not just my belief system and inner strength on the line; my career is in the balance, too. And you have to understand the importance of a career.”

Of course I did. How many times had I pondered how wonderful my life would be after I became a lawyer? How many times had I used that drive, the fact that I had a solid, good-paying job in my future, to make myself do assignments I hated and go to a job that everyone looked down on me for? More times than I could ever dream to count.

So I sighed and said, “Okay.” The word hung between us, communicating my incredibly reluctant understanding. I didn’t want to allow my anger to slip from its defenses, but I really had no choice. Any more arguing with him would just make me look like an incredibly cold-hearted bitch.

Harry let the word sink in for a second before he relaxed, all the tension releasing from his shoulders and his face returning to a more reasonable shade of pale. All he wanted was for me to get where he was coming from, for me not to harbor unnecessary hatred toward him. And he’d succeeded.

“How did you find me?”

Harry’s green eyes lit up as he snapped back to reality, ripped from his daze of shock that his journey hadn’t been for nothing. “I went to your apartment, and Marie told me that she’d kicked you out, and then she named a couple motels in the area where you might be staying because she said that you don’t have any family.”

My cheeks started to burn as I realized that Harry probably knew all about our argument, about how everyone was turning against me because I took my clothes off for money. I was just so sick of people wanting to push me into the shadows of the world and ignore my existence when I had the potential of being incredibly powerful and wealthy in the future. And that I knew the second I quit my job and got a little spending money and got my name on a big sign, they’d all come up to me and start panting for attention. God, I hated people.

And then there was Harry, who looked at me like I was a person. A real person. How could I have ever doubted that he cared about me?

“So why are you here? Just to explain yourself?” My voice was sharper than I’d intended, and I slapped myself internally for reverting back to the beginning after I took the small step toward maturity.

“I’m here because I have an idea.” A pleading kind of tone crept into his voice, and my body stiffened in response. A plan that took a desperate tone before it was even proposed typically wasn't very promising. “I want to go out with you in secret. It’ll be hard, since I almost always have paparazzi following me around, but I think Meri will work with me to find opportunities to see you.”

“What’s in it for Meri? The fake relationship, I mean.”

“She’s a lesbian,” he blurted without thinking, and then immediately slapped a hand over his mouth. “Oh my God, please don’t pass that on. She said that I couldn’t tell anyone about it, no matter what.”

I nodded understandingly before crossing my arms in front of my chest. I shouldn’t have considered his offer, even for a second. I should have had more self-respect than to debate seeing Harry behind everyone’s backs. If he really cared about me, he would tell everyone about our relationship, right?

But I had to consider the big picture. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of me, really; it was that the entire world would be ashamed of me. There would be internet riots, Harry would lose supporters and fans, and his entire empire could crumble underneath him. If I demanded that our relationship stay public, then I’d only be hurting him, and that wasn’t what I wanted at all.

I didn’t have to answer his suggestion, as the conclusion I’d drawn must have been written all over my face. Harry started forward slowly, his eyes sparkling with an emotion I recognized but didn’t want to name, before cupping a hand behind my head and bringing my mouth to his.

Although I tried to keep my head, I melted instantly under his touch, the memories of the rhythm of his mouth coming back to me like remembering to ride a bicycle.

After about a minute, his fingers played with the hem of my shirt hesitantly, like he was waiting for me to grant him permission. Instead of granting it, I pulled back and ripped my shirt off over my head, pressing his body against mine once again after the piece of fabric was resting in a pile on the floor.

His palms were warm against the skin of my stomach and back, feeling his way around my torso like he was trying to form a mental image of what I looked like. And soon, his own shirt had joined mine on the crappy motel carpet, and he was backing me up toward the bed.

When his lips hit the pulse on my neck, I let out a small noise, my hands tightening around his shoulders. “Guess it’s time to prove your skills,” he whispered into my ear, sending shivers up my spine.

“Just don’t get your hopes up,” I replied as seductively as I could before letting my hands roam down the muscles of his stomach to the button on his pants.