Someone Out There Loves You

*Chloe POV*
Part of me knew it was a bad idea to keep hanging out with Gerard. Somewhere, deep down inside, I knew that it would just lead to trouble in the end. Yet, I just couldn’t help myself. It was quickly becoming a regular habit now, and if I wasn’t careful I was going to find myself going down a one way street to hurt and humiliation in some shape or form. Spending time alone with a member of the opposite sex in a purely platonic sense was something I had never done before, as stupid, pathetic and amateurish as that sounded. It was strange, forming a new friendship with someone that had seen me naked. I didn’t know if I could ever get over it, if I could get used to being in close proximity to a person who had admittedly given me the best orgasm of my life. In the two weeks since we’d begun hanging out, I began to see why I never made close friendships with the opposite sex.
“Oh, c’mon. Loosen up a little. You need to live sometime, you know.”
I glared at him, my eyes narrowed into nothing more than slits. He didn’t flinch at all, much to my disappointment. He just kept waiting on me to give him the answer he wanted to hear, which I refused to give him.
“I’m quite happy being uptight, thank you. And last time I was drinking with you, you got me into bed.”
“Oh, please!You enjoyed yourself, and you know it.”
“I faked it to save your feelings.”
“Ha!You can’t even say that with any conviction. I know when a woman is having a good time, sugar, and you definitely loved it.”
I rolled my eyes. I wasn’t going to admit anything to him. Yes, I did have a good time, an amazing time, actually. This information was for me only, though; I knew Gerard would only rub it in my face if I told him he was the best I’d ever had.
“You tell yourself that, if it makes you feel better about yourself. Anyway, my point stands. I’m not going anywhere with you tonight. I’m sure there are other people you can annoy on a Friday night. Actually, why are you here again? Does my door have a sign saying ‘Gigolos wanted’ or something?”
“Nah, you just smell of desperation, darling. Any guy can smell your sexual frustration from miles away. You can’t blame me for trying to earn a bit more money,” he smirked, and I really wanted to punch him.
“Fuck you!” I hissed, not even amused by the direction this conversation was taking.
“Oh, c’mon! Don’t be like that. You can’t really want to stay stuck in again.”
“I do, actually. I like sitting in. It means I get to avoid people. People suck, ergo I prefer to avoid places, like bars, where people congregate.”
Gerard rolled his eyes. I don’t know why he was so adamant on getting me to go out. I got the feeling that there was a motive behind it, but I had no idea what it was. Maybe he had no friends, and I was the only person who was willing to spend time with him, but somehow I doubted it. I was certain that he had an ulterior motive, and I wasn’t in the mood to find out what it was.
“But you like alcohol. Your love of alcohol cancels out your hatred of people.”
I scoffed, not at all convinced by his argument. His puppy eyes, though, were something I hadn’t counted on. For once, the egotistical smirk was off his face, and in that moment, he looked…almost charming, in a boyish sort of way. He was quite adorable, and it made my stomach flip in a way I wasn’t entirely comfortable with. It was the kind of flip you feel when you’re falling for someone, and Gerard was the last person I should have been falling for. Sure, he got my sense of humour, and he could take my insults better than anybody else I met. And, yes, he was sexy, and charming, and dark and handsome. But he wasn’t an option. Not that I was looking for someone. I was quite happy to remain single.
“Sorry. Find someone else to make miserable for an evening.”
I was about to close the door in his face. He had turned up minutes earlier, unwarranted and unwanted, knocking on my door. He did look fantastic. His grey jeans were skin tight, leaving noone in doubt of his impressive package. His loose white shirt stood up in stark contrast to his black leather jacket. I wondered if he planned on picking someone up or not, but I quickly pushed such thoughts out of my head. I shouldn’t have been wondering about his love life, or sex life, to be more accurate. I moved to shut the door, when his foot got in the way, stopping me in my tracks. I let out a sound that was a mixture of a growl and a groan.
“C’mon, sugar. We both know you love my company.”
Before I could stop him, he pushed his way inside my apartment with a smirk planted firmly on his lips. I slammed the door shut, pissed off by just how forceful this guy could be. What was it that made him think he could just walk in here and demand my time? Then again, why was I letting him walk in here and demand my time? He was right about me liking his company, as much as I hated to admit it. He made me forget about how uncomfortable I was in my own skin, he didn’t make me feel bad for letting my natural wit shine through. He appreciated my movie and music collection. The things I hated most about myself, he seemed to like. It was nice to feel like I wasn’t an unseen person. I just didn’t want to let it go to my head, and find myself feeling something for a person who could never really be mine, because, let’s face it, Gerard could never be mine. He made a living off of sleeping with women, an issue I could never get over. I could fool myself into letting it go for a while, but it would just come back and chew away at my insides with a vengeance.
“You have half an hour. Wear something nice!” He ordered as he walked into my sitting room, like he owned the place.
“I’m going nowhere. Accept that!” I told him with conviction. I really wasn’t going to go anywhere. I didn’t mind going out with the girls, because we stuck to ourselves, usually went to the same places, and we never got hassled or disturbed, except for the occasional guy interrupting us to hit on Andrea or Macy. Going out with Gerard was guaranteed to be a whole different experience. He was a good looking guy, and I’m certain I would only be abandoned when someone attracted his attention. Maybe he was only using me as bait, to make him more desirable to the drunk females in the bar by appearing to be taken. I wasn’t going to let that happen. I wasn’t a female wingman; not then, not ever.
“I think it’s you who needs to accept that I’m forcing your sexy ass out, whether you want to or not. It’s up to you whether you want to go in your sweatpants and creased t-shirt, or look somewhat decent in public.”
“And, tell me, how are you going to get me out of the apartment?”
“I have my ways. The real question is, do you really want to find out how far I’ll go to get what I want?”
I swallowed hard at his low tone, trying and failing not to shiver at the seductive smirk on his pretty face. I didn’t want him to know how it affected me, though. I couldn’t let him know. He’d just use it against me, like the charismatic son of a bitch he was.
“I dare you to try.”
In hindsight, maybe it wasn’t a good idea to challenge him. One second he was in front of me, pleading and demanding that I give him my time and company. Next, I was being lifted off the ground and hauled over his bony shoulder, which dug into my stomach painfully.
“What the fuck! Put me down!” I squealed, my hand instinctively tightening into a fist, and aiming a punch in between his shoulder blades. He let out a hiss of pain, but his hold on me didn’t loosen one bit. He retaliated by swatting me on the ass, something I didn’t expect. It stung, and the heat that radiated off of my skin wasn’t pleasant in the slightest. A masochist, I was not. I automatically swung my fist at his back again, anger clouded my judgment, and of course I was only repaid with another slap to my ass.
“You’re a fucking prick!” I whined, trying to wriggle out of his hold, which was futile and only encouraged him to increase his hold to a vice-like grip, which was cutting off the circulation to my legs. He ignored my insult, and carried me into my bedroom.
“So, what shall I pick out for you?” He opened my wardrobe with one hand, while the other arm still managed to hold me in place, showing that he was stronger than he appeared. I squirmed and wriggled as much as I could, but it didn’t stop him from rifling through my selection of clothes.
“I refuse to wear anything you pick for me,” I hissed.
“Well, if you just agree to be nice and join me on a wonderful evening out, I’ll put you down and give you a choice of three outfits I pick. I may even buy you a drink, if you promise not to hit me anymore.”
“We both know I can’t promise that” I sighed.
“Fine. Just stop acting like you don’t want to spend an evening in my amazing company in a place where alcohol of every kind is widely available at an extortionate price.”
“I’m picking out my own outfit, and you’re buying my drinks.”
“I have to approve any outfit you wear, and I’ll buy you one drink.”
“I don’t negotiate with terrorists.”
“And I always get what I want.”
“We’ve reached an impasse then.”
“Not at all. We both know I’m going to win this.”
“Hell will freeze over first.”
“I can keep you like this all day. We'll see who’ll break first.”
I aimed another clenched first at his back, which loosened his grip slightly from surprise. I then wiggled, gaining a little leverage, and almost slipped out of his grasp. He caught me before I reached the ground, though, our chests pressed together, and our eyes level and our faces way too close together. I could feel my cheeks heating up, because it was impossible not to, when in such close proximity to a beautiful man. His expression was surprisingly unreadable, guarding whatever it was that was going on in his mind. There was the clichéd awkward air, neither one of us certain how to make this less tense. Gerard took charge then, as he always did. Like I always let him, it seemed.
“Now, do you really want to stay in this awkward, but sexually charged, embrace for any longer than necessary, because by all means, I really don’t mind,” he smirked.
“Fine, whatever. Just put me down!”
He finally let me go, my feet touching the ground once more.
“Wear the navy long sleeved top with the white skinny jeans and the navy heels!” he ordered,.
I glared at him, though I had to admit that it was an outfit I may have picked myself. I let out a huff of displeasure, but didn’t utter a word as I grab the aforementioned items of clothing. I turned to face him again, waiting for him to leave. He just stared back at me, deliberately feigning ignorance.
“Get out, so I can dress!”
“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before!”
“Oh my God, GET OUT!”
He giggled, took a bow, and finally left me alone. I stood still, letting my emotions and hormones calm down before dutifully getting dressed for a night I’m sure I wasn’t going to forget anytime soon.
**
I was drunk. Not quite at the level I was on my last night out, but I was certainly inebriated and uninhibited enough to actually ask a question I’d admittedly wanted to ask for a long time. We had been at the bar for a solid three hours, and it was actually a pleasant few hours. We were getting along in our own way, and Gerard was actually enough of a gentleman to buy the first round. We had spent our time talking about college, and our various experiences. It turned out Gerard was quite the party animal, which didn’t surprise me one bit. Of course, when I told him about my own wild days of weekly four-day benders and regular drug experimentation, I could tell I had shocked him.
“It’s hard to imagine little miss respectability doing something so illegal. You criminal, you should be in prison right now.”
“Oh, are we getting into legality? Tell me, when did taking soliciting money for sex become legal?”
“It’s not my fault I’m so incredibly skilled at pleasing women.”
“How did you get into prostitution?” I blurted out, my curiosity at its breaking point.
He was taken aback by the suddenness of my question, but I didn’t take it back. I was drunk, and deeply curious to find out how he managed to find himself selling himself for money.
“I finished college, and had a hard time finding anything but an internship,” he eventually answered, sounding far more sober now we were having a serious conversation, “I wanted to break into comics, but all the jobs were here in the city, which I couldn’t stay in if I wasn’t getting paid work. If I took a full-time job, I couldn’t take an internship, and I tried part-time,but it wasn’t enough to cover living expenses, never mind my student loans. One day, a good friend of mine from college, told me he’d done it during college to get by, but he had met someone and wanted to get out of it. He gave me the name of an old client, and it spiralled from there.”
“Why are you still doing it, though?” I couldn’t help but prod. I understood his reasoning for making the decision, but I found it hard to figure out why he would continue to live such a deviant lifestyle.
“Money.”
I waited for him to continue, but no further information was given.
“Does it pay that well?”
He smirked, and that was the only answer I needed.
“I make two grand on a quiet week, mostly it’s somewhere between five or six.”
My mouth fell open, gaping in disbelief. When I thought of prostitutes, I never thought of wealth and luxury. What came to mind was small, shitty apartments and poverty. He earned more than I did! I couldn’t wrap my head around it. How had he not saved enough money to get himself out of it? Or did he really enjoy it that much?
I must have spoken the last question out loud, because I got an answer.
“I do enjoy it…most of the time. I get laid on a regular basis, I get a shitload of money for it, and it takes up very little of my time. Why wouldn’t I do it?”
“But don’t you feel used?”
“I could, but I don’t. I do this on my terms. Every job has it’s pros and cons. Sitting behind a desk for nine hours a day suits you, but it’s hell on earth for me. I don’t like having someone breathing down my neck for deadlines; I don’t like not being able to have creative freedom. You sit in a cage all day, bogged down in paperwork, deadlines, and other’s people shit. Me? I get to do what I want. I can draw all day, and I can buy everything I want. I rent a big ass apartment in a swanky apartment complex, because for a few hours of ‘work’, I get paid far more money than working behind a desk ever would. I have a good life, Chloe, and I’m not ashamed of it.”
I felt a little embarrassed by his reply. I was judging him, forming my own preconceptions of his lifestyle, when the truth was that I knew nothing. He lived a life he was happy with, which was more than what most people could say. I felt put in my place, and thoroughly ashamed. It wasn’t for me to question his decisions or force my own moral views on him. In theory, I had no problem with prostitution, if the person willingly goes into it without coercion or fear, and is able to protect themselves.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean-” I tried to apologise, but Gerard cut me off with a gentle tone that told me he wasn’t truly angry with me.
“It’s fine. I’m gonna get another round, and when I come back, we’ll forget the conversation ever happened.”
I nodded, giving him a weak smile when he stood up and made his way to the counter and ordered us more beers. I watched him, chewing my bottom lip. It was impossible not to notice the eager glances being thrown in his direction by a group of drunken girls, who looked barely above the legal drinking age, and the old familiar feeling of jealousy licked at my chest. I focused my gaze on the drink in front of me, forcing the feeling away before it got out of hand. I had no reason to feel jealous. I had no claim over Gerard. I ignored the part of me that wished that I had, though, and downed the rest of the drink before Gerard came back.

Notes

Hey guys,

I hope you enjoyed! Feedback is awesome, so please leave some if you can.

In other news not related to this story, if you've read my stories 'My Way Home' and 'Kids from Yesterday', or planned on doing so and didn't read the post I created yesterday, I wanted to inform you that these stories have been taken down. I'm rewriting them, as there were lost of mistakes in them. The ending will be changed, as I have plans for a another edition to the series. So, when 'Give 'Em Hell' is finished, I shall start reposting. I really hope you reread it, as like I've said, there will be plot changes.

Lyra