SS: If I Stay [Alpha] pg24 - Page 8

Toronto International Film Festival, 2014

Zoya slid one freshly shaved leg out of her rented limo and paused for a breath. A deep, agonizingly slow breath. She wasn't even sure why she was here. True, she'd recorded her third cult hit bluegrass album now. Her tight knit fan base was fiercely loyal but no where near powerful to get her to the smack middle of a gleaming award circuit. Perhaps it was the change of a management company. Or, the copyrights to one of her first singles that they played in a Spanish movie. Whatever the case, here she was in a fancy foreign city surrounded by hundreds of cheering fangirls who'd come to see their favourite stars.

That was the bitter truth. There was hardly anyone who recognized her. Even the cameras didn't flash much as she stepped out on to the red carpet. A few unenthusiastic clicks here and there, some hushed whispers. She swallowed on the bile rising in her throat and kept her chin up. Next was the predatory circuit of entertainment reporters and she could already spot the poor interns struggling to find her name in their list of carefully planned notes. They wouldn't, she knew that. Sarah, her new agent, had included her in the attendance list at the last minute. Zoya knew she'd had to call in a lot of favours and she was thankful yet not sure why the older woman wanted her here at all. Not like the crazed movie fans cared much for her kind of music?

She pushed the doubts out of her mind and offered a cheerful smile to the nervous interviewer scrambling to put together a question. He didn't say her name and was very professional in pretending he knew what he was talking about. "So", he paused. "Who are you wearing?"

"My mother's wedding dress", Zoya deadpanned.

The joke wasn't received very well.

"No, I am wearing a gown designed by Shreen, a designer from Vancouver".

"Very well", the reporter didn't bother with another question. She was off on her way beaming like a mindless robot designed to flash her pearly whites until...

She saw him standing a few feet away with his head thrown back in the air laughing a little too loud at something a reporter had said. She closed her eyes and struggled to draw another breath. Her hands automatically gripped her throat as she felt a sudden urge turn around and run. But her feet felt planted to the floor and all she could do was stare, wide eyed and open mouthed, at the only man she ever loved standing before her in his all his masculine glory.

"Starstruck?" a husky voice pulled her back to earth.

"Excuse me?" she said in an almost whisper.

"Asad does that to women. Even women as poised as you, my love", the man took her hand in his and kissed her knuckle.

"You are?" her question was half-spoken but he seemed to understand.

"His lesser known best friend. In the movie I mean. Not like that f**ker could ever have a real friend the way dicks around in life". He smiled as if he'd made the world's funniest joke.

Zoya was not amused.

"Again, he does that to women. You know he's bad but you just can't resist him".

That was true and Zoya had learned the hard way.

"I can be bad too", the man groaned and Zoya wanted nothing more than to get out of this awkward situation.

She'd never been good with flirting. Even with Asad, the one man who once made her feel comfortable. She would just blush and blush harder until he would let her give in and sink her head into his clothes. Now here she was, ten years after their breakup and he wasn't even looking at the mess he'd made of her.

"Come, I'll show you around", the man pulled her into the crowd of celebrities before she had a chance to protest.

Asad had turned his head toward her for a moment and Zoya felt her heart jump out into her mouth. Then, he gave her a lopsided smile and turned away. Suppose he wasn't as affected after ten years. It was a whole other story with Zo. She'd followed his career like a mad woman. It became only way to pull her out of self-pity when he left. If only she knew where he was, she would do her best to avoid him. So he when he moved to L.A. the next year for acting, she purposely moved to New York. There was no chance of any run-ins living on two opposite coasts. He'd struggled a long while but finally made it big starring in a teenage romance movie three years ago. Now he was successfully transitioning into the bigshot hollywood hero every generation of women adored. Zoya had done pretty well for herself too. She started from the bottom of the production chain at Broadway shows and made her way up to being the lead songwriter. A producer had offered her the heroine's role in the wildly popular rendition of the Wicked but she'd declined. Spotlight was never her thing especially when she had a celebrity heartthrob to hide from. Little did she know he'd forgotten her. If only she'd taken that role.

Still, things turned out fine. She'd made it big in the niche singing genre now. But the woman remained fiercely private. She didn't even star in her own music videos. Before today, Zoya had only been photographed in twice, both at national award shows. Asad been the total opposite, keeping up appearances in every place under the sun. The boy was on a weekly pub crawl year round. He hadn't much changed his partying ways. Maybe it had been for the best that they split. Zoya wasn't quite sure she would make it out alive if he hurt her like that again.

"Hi", his smug greeting pulled her out of her thoughts.

"Asad?" she watched him with an expressionless face.

"That's right. It's a pleasure". He naturally slipped his arm round her waist and shot down a waiter for a drink. "Champaigne?"

"I stopped drinking, remember?" she chuckled nervously hoping he still remembered her silly pledge to stay sober. She'd surprised herself by refraining from a wind-down beer for almost thirteen years now.

"Should I know you?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

She waited to find the humor in his voice. There wasn't any.

"Are you serious?" she jerked out of his embrace.

"Did I sleep with you?"

The man had some nerve! She stared at him intently chanting under her breath. 'I will not cry, I will not cry, I will not cry for a man who doesn't value me. I. Will. Not. Cry'.

"I am sorry, have we met?" Asad was confused now. Had he known this woman? An ex-girlfriend? A groupbie maybe?

"You aren't joking", she sighed. "That's okay. My fault. I must not have been very memorable". He could taste the pain in her words but keep quiet.

"I am sorry. I am not very good with names. Or faces. But I can know you now?" he offered helpfully.

She wanted to ask if he'd lost his memory. Amnesia was real in the movies so why couldn't it happen to a movie star? "Did you have..." she stopped mid-sentence.

"I didn't lose my memory".

Shit! He read her mind. Just like all those years ago.

"I mean I have to be either an amnesiac or plain stupid to forget a beauty like you. Unfortunately, it seems like I am the latter".

"Yeah". Zo didn't feel the need to correct. He was stupid, no doubt.

"Wanna make out?" he asked with a shit eating grin plastered on his face.

She cocked her head to a side and looked up at him. The man was another heartbreak waiting to happen, one that would kill her before she could pull out. But she jumped in anyway. Tonight, she wanted to get hurt. She wanted to feel so much pain in her gut that her insides could rip out and she would never feel again.

"No", she said. "I want you to take me home. Then, I want you to take me any way you like until the sun comes out. f**k me blind so I won't ever have to see you again".

"Why?"

"I want to be hurt"

After all, she'd spent way too many years feeling numb.

"Fine by me"..