Page 43 of Once Upon a Star

“I saw you, but you weren’t alone. You were talking to Stephen Collier.”

“How do you know who Stephen was?”

“I found out about him later; I might have stalked him a bit. It was evident that he was your boyfriend and I had lost my chance. You did go to prom with him. When I saw you with him, you looked so happy. I just didn’t have the heart or the balls to go up and talk to you. I knew at that moment; I had lost you.”

“Stephen was my friend. He was only ever my friend. He was getting over a break-up at the same time. That was all.”

“Yeah, that whole hindsight thing is really annoying at times,” I said and gave Ara a half-hearted smile. “I was crushed. I loved you, I thought we had a future. After that, the only thing that mattered to me was my career. I figured if I couldn’t have you, at least I could have that. In some ways, it made me feel closer to you.”

“You could have called; you could have told me. I waited for you to call, to reach out, to do anything. You never did. You never told me how you felt.”

“I thought it was obvious. If you could move on so quickly, it made me think you didn’t feel the same way. I didn’t allow myself to think about you, or look you up. It was only recently, when I saw a picture of you with Ella and her guy, Dax, and I realized that you were single, that I allowed myself to think I could win you back.”

“Is this what this is all about? Is that why you moved to New York? Is that why you did the play? To talk to me? To sleep with me? To what?” Ara asked.

“To tell you that I love you, that I always have and I always will. I came to New York to try and win you over. To be where I always felt I belonged, with you.”

Chapter 24

Aracely

I didn’t know what to say after Bash’s revelations. It was a lot to take in; it was a lot to process. He had always talked so lovingly about his parents when we were younger. I had thought they had a good life; I thought they had been happy. I could see now that it was only another illusion. I had seen him at premieres with his parents but I now realized they were never together. The pictures were of him with one parent, never both. He had taken his mother to the Oscars and had thanked her for pushing him to succeed. He talked about his father in broad strokes but never anything specific.

His mother had helped him but she had also stifled him. As he told me everything, I could see him seeing that, too. She wanted him to succeed, but she had only cared about his career, not his happiness, and because of it, it had kept us apart.

I wasn’t angry with him anymore. I wasn’t sure if I had ever really been. I had been hurt; I had been confused. I had thought there was more to the story but after years of not hearing from him, I assumed he just didn’t care. I could see now it wasn’t the case. He had cared too much.

Bash had been young when he became a movie star. I had just assumed it had been easy, exciting, and everything you would think it would be. I had never thought or questioned how hard it must have been, how isolating, how stressful. I had only been thinking about myself and how he had deserted me, left me behind.

I could see now that wasn’t the case. He had cared about me as deeply as I had him. It was only because of miscommunication, insecurities, and bad luck that we hadn’t been together. I wanted to be angry about it. I wanted to be annoyed with him that he hadn’t fought harder for us. He should have come up to me when he came to my school. He should have talked to me.

But I could have done better, too. Hadn’t I seen a picture of him and even though he was smiling, I could tell he wasn’t happy? When I saw posts of him with other women, I told myself he didn’t really love them. Had I subconsciously known it to be true? Why hadn’t I reached out to him? Why hadn’t I fought harder to be with him?

Had it just not been the right time for us? Had we both needed the time apart, to grow, to mature, to be the people we needed to be, so that we could find each other again? Would I have still become a doctor if we had been together? Would he have won an Oscar? Or would we have been different, lesser versions of ourselves?

It had been easier for me to just concentrate on my studies. I had been hurt by Bash and it had gone so deep, I hadn’t allowed anyone to get close. But I hadn’t wanted them to. School, my career, becoming a doctor, those were what had been important to me. It still was; it always would be.

I don’t think I would have done as well in school, been as confident in my skills and in my future if Bash had been there. He would have supported me, sure, but he would have complicated things, too. As much as it hurt to know what we almost had, I also knew it might have been the best decision in hindsight, as Bash liked to say.

He left me on the couch as he went to cook us dinner. I sat there for a little while, thinking, and deciding what I wanted to do next. The thought came to my mind immediately. Once it was there, I knew it was the right one. Bash said he loved me; he came to New York to be with me. I didn’t know what that meant long-term, but I wanted to find out. I wanted him, I loved him. We had been apart for so long and I didn’t want that anymore. I wanted him, I wanted what we could have. I wanted it all. I had been too scared, too unsure of him and what I felt for him to fight for us. I wasn’t now.

I stood up and walked to the kitchen. Bash was measuring out pasta. I stood next to him and just looked at him. I saw the boy he was when we were younger and there were also glimpses of the movie star and the man he showed to the rest of the world. But what I saw the most, what made my heart skip, what made me know that Bash was the only man I was ever going to love or want to be with, was how he looked at that moment. He was all those things but he was all my Bash. The man I had known and loved my entire life and would love forever.

It was so easy to reach up and bring my hands to his face. He turned and gave me a questioning look that turned to surprise when I brought my lips to his. I heard the pasta falling to the kitchen counter. It might have fallen to the floor; I wasn’t sure and I didn’t care.

My tongue pushed up against his lips and his mouth opened. I dove my tongue inside. Bash moaned deep in the back of his throat and turned completely toward me. His hands went to my hips and pulled me to him. I kept my hands on his face, holding him as we kissed. I tried to pour everything that I was thinking, feeling, and wanting into that kiss.

Bash kissed me back with as much passion. If he hadn’t told me how much he cared about me with his words, I would have known by how he was kissing me. I had no idea how I hadn’t seen it before. I did now and it was glorious.

With a gasp, Bash broke our kiss and put his forehead down on top of my head. His breathing was short and labored, as was mine. I moved my hands to his chest and tilted my head up so I could kiss him again. Bash didn’t move but said, “Wait.”

“I don’t want to. I want you. I want this. I want us. Please, Bash.”

“Ara. I want you too, but not like this. Not when you’re confused. Not after everything I said to you. I won’t take your pity. I don’t want it.” His words were so strong, his emotions coming to the surface.

I reached up and lifted his head so that he could look me in the eyes. I held his gaze, seeing all the love he felt for me but also the guilt. I wanted to take the guilt away; I wanted to let him know how much I cared about him and how much I wanted to be with him.

“There isn’t any pity. There isn’t any anger or confusion. There is only love. The love I feel from you and the love I have for you. I love you, Bash. I always have and I always will. Let me show you. Please.”