Trespassing

Ava's POV

In a couple of hours life could take a big turn. You could cross a sidewalk and get hit by a car, you could wake up one morning to learn you got promoted, you could run into a guy and fall in love. Okay so that last one had the lowest score on the board—but that wasn't important. Nothing was important right now, aside from the fact that I was dying on the inside.

Just a day ago I'd been bragging to myself how I was going to get lucky—how I was going to escape my audition. Now, now... I was taking a tour. I met Thomas' Mother and I was positively afraid of that woman. She had to be an ice queen among ice queens. I'd seen her before, in magazines, like I'd seen Thomas—but seeing her in 3D was just... I had no words. I could say that the only thing she and Trip had in common was the eye color. There was nothing else there. She was shorter than me—then again most women were—her hair hanged perfectly styled to her shoulders, her skin was flawless, no traces of age markings like my Mom's, so either Giselle had discovered the fountain of youth or she had undergone some plastic surgeries. It was normal in the fashion world.

"Come this way, I'm going to show you the backstage." I went numbly—Allison was showing me the facilities where the spring-fashion was going to happen. Where I was going to participate in two weeks. Two horrifying weeks that were going to fly by just to make me suffer.

Giselle found me perfect. She called me a hit-model—I think that was bad for me, good for her. Yay. She asked me questions, my age, what did I do. They measured me, weighed me—they called my agent, AKA—Mom. They called her over, she left the clinic early just to sign a contract. I had a signed contract with a renowned brand. My stomach flopped like it was ill. Any other girl would be thrilled—I felt like Lucifer after falling from grace, wild and angry.

I hadn't told Thomas—I hadn't told anyone. He sent me texts, plenty of them. Every time my phone vibrated I died a little more. I wasn't answering anything—I still thought this was a nightmare, or a really bad prank the universe decided to play. Somehow, talking to Thomas would make it real. I hadn't been at school today. I told my Mom this morning I felt tired, that I slept badly because of my excitement. It worked like a charm, she was so happy. I never saw her like that. She even called my therapist saying I was feeling under the weather—Thomas was going to attend solo... God, all of this sucked. I hated it all—

"Here is where the magic happens." Allison's voice clamped my ears. We were backstage, where the models got their make-up done for each catwalk and changed the clothing. "These are the backup articles, in case the originals get torn or ruined in any way right before going out—there's one for each." Allison was young but older than me, about three, four years. She was a pretty thing, not very tall—her nose was perfect, too perfect.

Around the changing area were a few other girls—models, I wagered. There were a handful of them.

"This is great." I added sounding hollow in my ears. I hadn't the energy to feel... anything.

"I know, I thought the same when I first joined." Joined; the word was so... groupie and attached—caged. I felt as if I'd joined a super-selective club and it would never, ever release me. And I doubted she felt like I was feeling.

Having had enough of decorated halls, rooms and all that—I turned on my heel facing her, a short smile towards her.

"Is that all?" it came out more indelicately than I'd meant. I rolled the words in my mouth, this girl wasn't to blame for my situation. "I don't mean to be rude, it's just it's getting late and I have a... thing with my friends they'll kill me if I leave them hanging." I was lying to her face. I didn't care. I just wanted to walk out the door, arrive home eat dinner—or skip it—throw on some stupid pj's and crawl under my covers wondering if I ever had to leave their warmth and comfort. Maybe cry a little.

"It's fine—" she glanced down at her watch. "And I'll have to go soon too, so I'll wrap this up quick." She clapped her hands in front of her chest as if she was going to unveil a big surprise. "Now, the tour is over, but I have something to tell you." Goody, couldn't wait. "Giselle likes it when her models have boldness—when they feel comfortable with their body, their sexuality." I frowned my eyebrows as she went on, not sure I liked where this was going. "And she thinks—and most people think it too—that girls feel bolder after they lose their virginity." God. Kill. Me. "You're a virgin?" that didn't even sound like a question, so I wondered if I had a stamp on my forehead saying it.

"I am." I tried to keep my voice under check.

Allison gave a crooked smile, "Then you can talk to Giselle about Thomas."

My heart exploded in my chest.

"What for?" I rasped hating our conversation to the depths of my soul.

Allison sighed.

"She never explains it, does she?" she didn't sound all that disappointed. "I guess I'll fill you in. Lovet has something no one else has—no other brand, not that we or Giselle knows." You know when you're watching a suspense flick? That was the way I felt. "Most new girls who are picked are virgins and no matter how beautiful they are they lose in sexiness because they are too afraid of exposing themselves too much. So, Giselle came up with a fantastic idea—get them to lose their virginity. Of course she wouldn't force any of us to jump some stranger's bones—can you imagine how bad that would be?" was there any good in this story? Because I couldn't find it and I had strong feeling it was about to get worse. "She offers us a safe way to do it. She lets us use Thomas." I wanted to puke all over the floor when those words came out. My heart strings felt strained 'till the point of rupture—my breathing got shallower. "Thomas is our boytoy." Allison laughed, the others did too. I forced down a grimace along with a hot-burning feeling in the back of my throat. "He's entertaining alright." They giggled.

My eyebrows had skyrocketed into my forehead.

"You're... you're saying she sends him virgin models so he'll have sex with them?" I whispered unable to keep from stumbling. My hand latched to a corner of the table.

Allison went on like she hadn't noticed my behavioral change. Maybe she hadn't, the way she was admiring herself in the mirror I'd tell her to marry her reflexion.

"Yeah, so they'll lose all that shyness when it comes to more... complicated photographic sessions or even catwalks. Other agencies and brands only want models with more experience—so if she didn't do this she'd be losing to the others. It's clever, isn't it?"

"Oh, I have no words." I was in too much shock. It was like... like he was... "How..." I cleared my throat noticing how my voice had gotten thick. "How long has that, huh, system been going on?"

"Hum, I'm not sure." She tapped her chin focusing back on me. "I was nineteen when I started working for Lovet... I think Thomas was..." she counter her fingers fast. "Fifteen, maybe sixteen? I know I was like his second or third."

I swallowed thickly. Nausea creeped into my brain quickly. How could someone do that to their own flesh and blood, their own son! Was it considered prostitution? Even if the law didn't see it that way, I did. Now it made sense, why he hated when I said he slept with every model, his reaction when he found out I was a model—why he didn't want to be home. Now that his Mother was back the service was pumping.

"Don't you think it's a little weird most of you slept with the same guy?" I was saying this as passively as possible but it was hard. It was sick. There were gaze exchanges around the room, a few mumbles of 'not really'. They were insane.

"Listen, Ava," Allison placed a hand on my arm. I nearly ripped it from her grasp thinking about how mean she was. "Thomas is a toy. Not a personal one that you get to keep locked in your drawer—" I was not eating dinner after this, or eating anything ever again. "He belongs to the community. We all use him once and that's it." That's it, it echoed. Such an awful thing to say like he was a... tool. My eyes glazed over when I recalled the first time I was in his bedroom. I said he used girls as if they were dispensable, like tools... My stomach twisted in vicious, complicated knots that I thought I'd never untie.

I told myself to nod. Just that. I couldn't smile even if they were offering me the lottery prize.

"My questions are over." I slipped from her grasp. "I should go now. My friends are waiting..." I left abruptly and didn't care. Not about looking incredibly spooked, green or even about the giggles from the room.

Eleven o'clock at night wasn't a good time to drop in uninvited. I clearly wasn't thinking. I was lucky I hadn't crashed my car—my eyes were stinging. When I stopped by the driveway I had to take a moment before trudging up those stairs. My head leaned on the wheel.

Thomas flashed through my head every five seconds. I'd seen plenty of sides to him. I'd seen him being an ass, I'd seen him fool around—making up games—I'd seen him being sweet, protective, angry—a whole person. I couldn't believe how his own Mother reduced him to a toy, she and all those other girls—and while nothing in this situation seemed to make sense I kept thinking: why did he do it? If he felt so angry every time I brought up the fact he slept with models, why did he keep doing it?

I hadn't pondered that I I could run into Giselle by coming here. Who cared if I did? She and my Mom already knew me and Thomas attended the same high school now—Mom hadn't minded me hiding it from her since I got the job.

Looking determined I rang his house and waited. Their full-time butler opened the door—only unlike the last and first time I'd been here he was wearing normal civilian clothes. Shaking my head a little I stepped a bit more into the door step.

"I need to talk to Trip. Is he here?"

Lawrence—I think that was his name—never took his hand off the handle as he glanced back to the stairs that led up into the second floor then another flight that would lead into Thomas' suite.

"Mr. Harrington is home," he began, and for a heartbeat I thought I'd asked for Trip's Father. "But he doesn't want to be disturbed."

I rolled my eyes.

"Well, that's too bad." I pushed into the house. The butler blinked in surprise. "We need to finish an English project. It's due tomorrow and I am not doing it on my own." It was a lie but it worked even if Lawrence called after me as I marched up the neatly lit stairways. This time I didn't look at the paintings, the gorgeous chandeliers—or anything. This time I had a target, I wasn't going to be distracted by—I was standing on the small hallway that led down to Thomas' bedroom. Upon approaching I saw someone sitting by the door. Pretty girl, nice body, maybe a little short. She was looking satisfied like when a stoner got high. Then I noticed the disgruntled hair, the clothes slightly out of place. Oh Jesus.

"What the heck are you doing here?" I sounded hostile—a feline showing its claws. I barely recognized myself.

The girl gave me a tilt of her head with a dazed expression.

"Waiting for my friend." She gestured to the door with a dopey smile. "Wait a little while, they must be finishing up."

Finishing up...? They were... This girl must have been in there earlier before her friend. My temper spiced up quickly, nothing about this was right or sane. Before I got yelled at by floor-girl I burst into the room.

Trip's bed was across from the place where the living room was. I saw the girl slipping from top of him. The grin sliding off her face when she saw me made angry—really pissed off.

"The hell...?" she muttered at first. "Don't you know how to wait your turn?" turn? Like he was some carnival ride? A groan came from behind her.

I did my best not to waver when I imagined he was naked behind the sheet and her.

With steady steps I walked to the bed.

"Get out," I scoffed with disgust.

"Someone can't wait to lose their chastity bell." She was laughing? Oh, wrong choice sister, bad, bad choice.

My hand lashed out, twisting my lips into a dangerous smirk I carved my fingers into her Californian hair and pulled. I dragged her kicking and screaming to the door where her friend was watching with wide eyes. I threw her out with a huge swing of my arm—like I was throwing out trash. Before she could run into the room I tossed her clothes to her face slamming the door—locking it.

Once I spun around on my heel I was greeted with a disheveled head belonging none other than Thomas Harrington. I watched his blue eyes sweep the room around him. It was like he'd been absent for a long time and now, he'd finally touched the Earth, like an astronaut. When our gazes met his lit up like he'd been given a caffeine shot. The expression on his face changed drastically and he rolled over—still covered by the sheet—pulling his jeans off the floor, I imagined. Having some good sense I turned my back to him. There were things to take care of. I tapped my foot soundlessly on the wooden floor, hearing a zipper then steps. He opened the trash can throwing something inside it, I didn't need to be a rocket scientist to know what it was.

"What the hell are you doing here? It's almost midnight." He said washing his hands in the little kitchen's sink. Trip's voice sounded toneless. I hated that it was nothing like its usual husky, deep self. "I thought you were coming down with something—guess you have super-healing powers." He didn't even smile at his own joke as always.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I got out, after we locked gazes.

A somber shadow crossed his sapphire blues. I knew he understood, but wished he hadn't.

"Tell you what? That I had company for the night?" there it was. Him playing dumb. This showed me how much it bothered him.

I couldn't hold them back anymore. It had been building up for almost two days. And this with Thomas... this was just my limit. I watched as Thomas' detached face became different, altered into soft lines. After a tilt of his head, he held out his arms awkwardly—I kind of threw myself at him. Literally. I wished there wasn't any scent on him but his own—there was though. Not just one. I bit down, finding his. Citrus found its way into me, my body relaxed. My tear stained cheeks were pressing up to his very naked chest—the same naked chest those two girls had been kissing and doing God knows what else. It should have grossed me out. I wasn't the only one who knew it, he did too. I could tell by the hesitance in all that he did.

"Thomas," his name slipped from my lips as he cupped my chin between his fingers. No matter who'd touched his chest I wanted to bury my head in it all over, kinda like an ostrich in the sand.

"I'm sorry." His breath ran over my tear streaked face. I just didn't understand what he had to be sorry for. "I know why you didn't show—I know what's happening, Ava." He already knew... "I'm sorry the plan didn't work out."

"How...?" I sobbed pitifully in front of him, his thumbs caught my tears one by one.

"She bragged about a new discovery. When you didn't return any of my texts and didn't show up for school... I put two and two together." The hazel strands tickled my forehead as he came a little closer. "What are you doing here, Ava?" he sounded pleadingly.

I saw the shame in his eyes even before I told him I knew, I didn't dare ask for confirmation. The rigid stance of his body was all it took. It was true. My heart broke for him. I didn't glance away.

"Why didn't you tell me?" it was raspy and lonely among a shivering mess of sobs.

One hand pulled away from my face, he wiped his bangs with it.

"Why didn't I tell you? Why would I, Ava...? It's not something I'm proud of. Can you imagine what my life would be like if people knew my Mother uses me like a sextoy for her models?" hearing him say it made it real—branded it in my skin. "Why would I tell you that most weekends I'm forced to have sex with girls I have no connection with?" Jesus this woman was mental. His Mother gave up her son's happiness and freedom to make her models alright with showing their bodies? Sure none of it would be too bad if Thomas enjoyed it—he didn't. It was written across his eyes. He was disgusted with himself.

"Why do you do it...?" I asked softly, having lost complete control of myself.

"Not to make my Mother happy that's for sure." He bit acidly—it stung, it really did. My tears came doubled. He had no idea why I did what my parents wanted. He couldn't just—"I'm sorry, that... I shouldn't have said that." My feelings melted for him and all I wanted once again was to be wrapped up in him—by him. "I didn't want you to find out. Not this way—or any way." His palm rubbed against his temple.

"Why not?" my hand couldn't stay away from his. I brushed my fingers along it. "It's not your fault."

Trip's POV

It's not your fault, I heard her mumble. A wave of pure peace rushed over me, before reality set in once more. It was my fault in a way. If I hadn't done anything with Catherine I wouldn't be in this situation.

"It's complicated." I confessed. Complicated and something I really didn't want to talk about.

"Why do you do it?" it came again. She wanted me to open up. I knew I wouldn't.

"I don't have a choice." So I settled for vague answer like that one.

"But—"

"Give it a rest, alright, Ava?" I yelled distancing myself from her. I hated myself for two things—for having been fooled by Catherine and for making Ava cry. It had to be my fault she cried, it was always around me. I didn't understand why she kept coming back for more. "I don't have a choice. I have to do what my Mom says—that's it. End of story." I tried to conceal most of my shaking anger, not wanting to make her cry more. Doe-eyes were out and playing a game of guilt—they made me feel guilty for everything going wrong in her life. Did she know what her eyes did to me? I sighed looking to the side, then to the floor. "Listen," I whispered. "My Mom has something... something she can use against me if I don't do what she wants."

"What is it?" I gave a shake of my head.

"Something that would ruin my life." I met her gaze. "I told you, I don't have a choice." I dropped my arms feeling limp, exhausted and spent.

I could see her wagering what I said, if my Mom would really use what she had against me or if it was just a bluff. I'd wondered it too. She was my Mother, would she really ruin my life? Yes, she would. Because she'd put all that plan together. I didn't matter to her. I don't think I ever had.

Ava's arms went around her waist. I got the feeling I should be hugging her, kissing her cheeks, make her feel better. She was going to be stuck doing something she hated—I knew how that felt. My heart stopped when a thought hit me like a bolt.

"Did my Mom tell you to... come here tonight?" I gritted out. She said I had two girls coming over—she never mentioned a third one. Everything in me wanted to snap, and with the level of tension in my body, it wouldn't take much.

She mulled it over in her head, what I said, until her face came out sea-weed green.

"No," she shook her head. "God no," she kept going trying to wipe the tears. "I'm not here to have sex with you, Thomas." That made me overjoyed. I couldn't handle having to do it with Ava... not just because I had to—because it was my duty.

I nodded my head watching her shift. This wasn't going at all like I'd imagined—I thought about what Ava would do if she found out. I pictured many scenarios, her never talking to me again, her slapping me yelling what the hell was wrong with me—but her coming into my bedroom at midnight, pulling a girl by the hair and tossing her out like a bag of potatoes really hadn't been one. Neither was her throwing herself at me when I was still chest-naked.

"What happens now?" I felt like a total idiot just asking that.

"What do you mean?" Ava crossed her arms once more.

"What happens to us?" I couldn't believe how attached I'd become to this girl—a girl who wanted to throw me under a bus when she met me.

I watched her cock her head, biting her lip. Waiting for her to say something was like sitting on dynamite, you were always wondering when it would go off.

"Nothing, nothing's going to happen to us." Ava stood closer now, the distance I had put between us, gone. "My Mom knows we go to the same school..." she shrugged sighing. "Actually, there's something I should tell you." Her chocolate eyes cornered mine. "I lied to you when I said she would disown me if I told her I knew you." My surprise wasn't at all what she hoped to be, somewhere deep in my mind I knew. "If she knew me and you were... friends... she would've pushed for an interview with your Mom. I never wanted that." I knew that. I'd never seen someone cry—out of sadness—because they got a job they supposedly wanted. "So, my parents aren't a problem. Mom's going to be a pain, but I'm used to it." Weren't we all? "We're still us, Thomas. No matter what it is you have to do—because it's not your fault."

I felt surprised, shocked out of my skin this time around. To think we weren't going to change was one thing, to hear her say it, was another. A deep seethed feeling stirred. I felt all of my body responding to hers. I knew this feeling—I'd felt it before. Once. And a few other times with Ava.

"Do your parents know where you are?" I asked not wanting her to get in trouble because of me.

"They thing I'm with a friend."

"Aren't you?" I frowned, tipping my lips up—she smiled, forgetting her red eyes for a minute.

"They think I'm with Valerie." I rolled my eyes softly.

"I'm much better company." The cockiness in my words made us both heave steadily.

"Yes, you are."

"Did you just admit that?"

"Enjoy it, because it will never happen again." She smirked a little, I didn't need to try hard with her for a blinding smile—seemed like, no matter what the circumstances, she always made me smile.

We stayed quiet after that just looking at each other.

"I don't want to go home." I watched as the smile I put on her face shattered—and my heart exploded in pain for her.

Ava's hands pinned her hair back, it kept falling forward, though. Doing something I would probably regret later, I took her in my arms—stronger then before—and I held her.

"I don't... want to be a model, Thomas..." she sobbed grasping my shoulders. "I never wanted to be one...!"

My chin rested atop her head, my hands rubbed her back.

"Hold on," I whispered through a bigger cry. She barely noticed me lifting her off her feet, I took us to my couch—it was a free zone tonight, nothing had gone down on it.

I didn't know what to say to make her feel better, I really didn't. There was nothing I could do but let her cry it out. I didn't mind she was making me breathless, her arms were wrapped around my neck so tightly. If it made her feel better, I could put up with anything. Her face was close to my neck, her raged breathing washed over me, warming me, lulling me. I kissed her temple, brushed her hair.

We stayed there on the couch. I was laying under her, and she was holding on to me for dear life. I don't remember when she stopped—or if she eventually cried herself to sleep. I know that we both fell asleep sometime.

Between all the crying I did whisper something to her, and maybe it helped, "I'm here for you, whatever you need."

In the end, she just needed someone who took her away from all of the chaos in her life—like I did.