Ask Me (Mess with Me 2)

Warm fingers cover mine, startling me. “I don’t want to go unless you don’t want me here anymore. And you don’t have to apologize. I’m not sure what just happened but I can see that something shook you. The same thing happened at the Preview Gala with that woman. When she hugged you, you looked like you’d just seen a ghost.”

“Something happened. Earlier this year. I don’t really talk about it.”

Warm brown eyes meet mine. “Well then we won’t.”

With gentle fingers she takes the broom and sweeps the glass into a small pile in the corner.

“That’s it? You don’t want to know what happened.”

She takes me by surprise when she shakes her head. “Not if talking about it makes you remember it again. If you want to tell me, I want to listen. But until then, I plan on relaxing with my friend and eating the dinner he made for me.”

I watch as she walks back to the stove top and uses the spatula to flip the sandwich onto the plate, revealing a golden brown underside. She picks it up and takes a big bite.

“You know, I almost don’t want to admit it but this is the best damn grilled cheese I’ve ever had.”

18

* * *

We spend the rest of the evening eating grilled cheese sandwiches and arguing about what to watch on TV. Andre wants to watch a documentary on Netflix that sounds boring as hell while I want to watch a new baking show.

We compromise by watching a home decorating show.

The entire time I’m watching him carefully for signs of trouble. Even though I told him I don’t want to talk about what happened, maybe that was a mistake. Is it healthier for him to talk about it? Could I be doing him more harm than good by letting him pretend his episode in the kitchen earlier didn’t happen?

Truly I don’t know and the answers are too important.

Andre looks at me then and smiles. “Thank you for staying with me. I wouldn’t have thought this would help but it did.”

His words only make me feel worse.

“I didn’t do anything. Just watched a show. I wish I knew what else to do to help you.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Earlier this year, a young girl stabbed herself on the red carpet of a movie premiere I was attending. We don’t know much, but it’s thought she did it to prove her love to me.”

My hand slowly comes up to cover my mouth. “Oh no. How terrible.”

“Yes, it was. Terrible that a young girl almost lost her life because of me.”

I put a gentle hand on his cheek. “This has to feel personal. But I’m sure you know this really wasn’t about you.”

His eyes close briefly. “It was my name she was screaming over and over. It was my Instagram page that inspired her. We did a Halloween image where I’m wearing fake blood on my shirt. The caption read, My heart bleeds just for you. Who would you bleed for?”

“And if she’d seen another celebrity’s page that day, she might have chosen to hurt herself in a different fashion. It sounds like that was a cry for help and she latched on to anyone she could relate to in some way.”

He doesn’t respond and my heart breaks watching him struggle with his thoughts. But I have a feeling there’s more, so I wait.

“We kept it as quiet as possible to discourage copycats. But after that day, I started having panic attacks. That’s what that was in the kitchen.”

He blinks several times. I pretend not to notice the moisture in the corners of his eyes.

“Now you know. It’s only fair you tell me your deepest secret, you know.”

He’s joking, trying to bring this conversation back to a lighter place but something inside me doesn’t want to shrug this off.

“People always talk about women having it all, meaning career and family. But a lot of times what they really mean is career first and kids later. But that’s actually not what I want. I would love to have a baby first.”

He’s watching me so closely that I shift uneasily. That’s probably not the sexiest thing to admit to a guy. Well, if I wanted him to keep me in the friend zone, that’s the way to do it. Nothing like talk of children and commitment to send most guys running.