Damage Control

chapter 11

    Dinner was going relatively well. I was genuinely trying my hardest to not be my usual defensive, bitchy self. But the nerves were kicking in, which made being nice severely difficult. 

    While we had a few things in common, we also had a lot of differences. 

    We both liked Indie music. We both liked spicy foods. We both agreed that Tumblr was still a good social media site. And we both liked crime shows. 

    But he thought the Yankees were an alright team, while it was a fact that all Boston sports were superior. He preferred a night out, and I preferred a night in. He adored social media, and I barely used my phone. The list was endless. 

    Our pizza was pretty much devoured the second it reached my apartment. We paired it with (surprise) rosė, which went together well, in a strange way. 

    “Tell me about Boston,” Hayden asked, leaning against the foot of my couch. 

    The box of pizza was on the coffee table I had found in an alley near my favorite Chinese restaurant a few weeks ago. We both sat on the floor, the candles lit on top of my pile of books. 

    I took a sip of wine as memories flashed through my mind from growing up. How we went to the Prudential Tower and watched the city at night; spending lazy days on the cape with stolen alcohol and sour candy; our little town and all of its hiding places. 

    “It’s amazing,” I told him. “The weather is more temperamental than me on birth control. We drink iced coffee in negative degree weather. We’re known for our many sport titles.” 

    He snorted and rolled his eyes at my last remark. 

    I stuck my tongue out at him, but continued nonetheless. “The people are absolutely psychotic. But, it’s in the best ways.”

    Hadyn had a wistful look in his eyes that made him look more human than he ever had. 

    “Where did you grow up?” I asked. 

    “In LA,” he replied. “I went to a talent school all my life. My parents made me.” 

    My brows furrowed together. “You’re an actor because of your parents?” I asked.     

    He shook his head, staring at his drink. “My mother modeled back in the day and my father was in a band that was pretty big in the 90s. When we were in middle school, we had to pick a direction. I chose acting because it was the easiest.” 

    “Wow,” I replied. 

    “Indeed.” 

    We sat in silence for a moment, and I took the opportunity to observe him. Hadyn was so lost in thought; his eyes were intently focused on his drink and his lips pressed tightly together. His jawline seemed to sharpen a bit until his eyes flashed back up at me and his features softened. “Sorry,” he chuckled. “I got lost in thought.” 

    “It happens.” 

    Hadyn looked at me for a few seconds. “I have depression.” 

    I blinked a few times, caught off guard. “What?” 

    “I have,” he paused and took a breath. “Depression.” 

    I was a pretty avid Tumblr user back in the day. And something the blogging website did well was keep me updated on whatever fanbase was the largest. Fangs of Passion held that title for quite a while. 

    Week after week, I would see gifs reblogged in my feed of Hadyn pinning the lead girl against the wall and biting her entire shirt off. Or, I’d see a gif of him throwing back his head and laughing. I’d see him shirtless in an unmade bed staring lovingly towards the side of the camera at whomever he had just finished doing. 

    And sure, I had seen gifs of him pissed off and turning into a vampire with fangs and glowing eyes. I had also seen him cry out in agony over someone’s dead body or just a single tear come out of his eyes after he had broken up (for the 6th time) with the lead. 

    In a sense, I had seen pretty much the emotional spectrum of Hadyn Michaels. More emotion than I had ever seen in pretty much any human, other than maybe my parents. 

    “I-“ I began. 

    He cut me off. “I’m not telling you that so you’ll feel bad for me,” he quickly interjected. “I’ve…I haven’t told anyone that ever. Other than my therapist.” 

    The poor guy was simultaneously rambling and at a loss for words. Instead of having him endure more awkwardness, I crawled over to him and wrapped my arms around his neck. 

    “You don’t ever have to apologize for the way you feel,” I told him. 

    I felt his arms stiffly hug me back. But when they were situated, he relaxed and held me for a few seconds before releasing. 

    When I was back sitting, he wiped the underside of his right eye. “That felt-“ he cleared his throat. “-really good to say.” 

    “It’s an illness,” I responded, softly. “You wouldn’t feel the same shame if you had a cold.” 

    He swallowed. “I suppose you’re right.” 

    I smiled at him. “I’m always right.” 

    He laughed, which was pretty much the best thing to hear, especially after he was so close to tears. 

    At the end of the night, Hadyn took a slice for the road and had a cab waiting for him outside my complex. He pressed a kiss on my cheek right before I shut the door and went to clean up. 

    I was in the middle of putting the wine glasses in the sink when I heard a banging at my door. 

    A muffled voice was yelling on the other side. I looked through the peephole and Hadyn was on the other side again, looking freaked out. 

    Unlocking the hatch and knob, I swung the door open. He lunged inside, almost knocking me down in the process, and slammed the door shut, locking all of the security that I had. 

    “Hadyn?” I called out to him, as he moved past me and ran into my room. 

    Of course, I followed him and watched as he shut my window and locked it. 

    “Do you have any other windows or doors?” he demanded. 

    I stared at him in his frazzled state. “One? In the bathroom. But-“ 

    He pushed past me and made his way to the bathroom and shut that window as well, clicking the lock on. 

    “Stay in the living room,” Hadyn commanded me, shutting both my bedroom and bathroom doors. 

    “What’s going on?” I demanded, as he pulled me onto the couch with him. 

    He sighed. “The fans found us.” 

    I swallowed the lump in my throat and thought about the dozens of texts on my phone. 

    “How?” 

    Hadyn shook his head and looked at the ceiling. “I’m not sure, but my money’s on that f*****g pap from the other day. I’m too scared to check my phone and see the photo.” 

    “Well, I’m not,” I lied and pulled out my phone. I clicked on my most recent message from a friend from home and clicked the link she sent. 

    It was from TMZ. The photo was of Hadyn and me in my bedroom that morning. Hadyn was in the middle with his hand around my shoulder and him staring at the ceiling with a little smile on his face. My face was tilted downwards so you could only see my dark hair and part of my forehead. 

    But I had decorated my place pretty distinctively. There was fake climbing ivy crawling over the brick walls with the pot balanced on top of a tall stack of old books. And over my bed frame was framed photos of weird art I had found in various thrift store and flea markets. 

    While it was a unique room, I was confused as to how they had gotten my name, which was headed underneath the photo. Only a few people would know what the interior of my bedroom looked like. 

   “How did they find me?” I whispered. 

    Hadyn leaned forward, placing his face in his hands. “They probably tipped off your landlord. Or did very extensive research.” 

    I let out a breath, shaking my head. “My entire bedroom is on the screen of thousands of strangers.” 

    Looking at Hadyn, I almost wished that the hoard of fangirls had gotten to him. He looked so helpless and angry, I felt like I had to comfort him. 

    “It’s fine. Hey, Hadyn. We’re fine,” I urged, despite how I truly felt. “It’ll pass. And I kinda like that photo anyways.” 

    He shook his head, the vein in his jaw twitching. “You shouldn’t have your privacy invaded, Lex. I can handle it, but you? That isn’t what you anticipated. Or deserve.” 

    “We’ll get through it,” I reassured him. And I prayed for both our sakes that we would.