Oreos for Breakfast: Chapter 28

Oreos For Breakfast: Chapter 33
By the Paperbag Princess and Pumpkin Coach

The car almost went off the road I struggled to answer my phone. Maybe that would work. I'd be in the hospital, and Rachel would have to come see me.

And I would have ruined her car. She'd hate me for that.

No, she'd be okay with that. She hated this car. She never drove it. I wasn't sure if it was because I'd given it to her after we'd had a big fight, or because when she first drove Mom's Porsche she was mad at me, or just because I gave it to her and she didn't like anything I'd ever given her, but she hated this car.

A soft voice jerked me back to reality. "Hi, Nick. It's Paris."

Paris.

Really?

Was she really calling me? Yea, we were flirting last night, but I didn't think she'd actually call me.

It might be cool that she'd called me.

"Hi, Paris," I said. "Nice to hear from you."

"Where are you?"

"Um… New York."

Technically, that was correct. I was in New York. Just not the city.

Would this be the last time I'd ever drive the Long Island Expressway?

I should have paid more attention when I left Rachel's house. But I'd woken up on her bed and panicked that someone would stop by.

I couldn't fix the window, but I cleaned up the broken glass. I even fed Bates. I wasn't sure why he was there when Rachel wasn't around. Maybe the rest of her family just couldn't stand him, either.

I'd driven by the vineyard, just in case her car was there, but it wasn't, so I'd just left.

Now I was on the phone with another girl. That was fucked up.

What did Rachel expect, really? She had disappeared. I knew that was so that I wouldn't be able to find her. She didn't want me to find her. So if I was talking to another girl now, that was all Rachel's fault. Hell, she wanted me to talk to other girls. She told me to.

I was just doing what Rachel wanted.

"Good," Paris said. "We're going out tonight. You should come. Where's your girlfriend?"

"Um… busy."

Gone. Missing. Out of my life.

"That's cool. We'll be at Club Metro around midnight. Can you make it?"

"Absolutely, baby. Wouldn't miss it. Can't wait to see you."

"Good," she purred. She had a sweet, soft little voice. It was cute. Rachel's voice was…

Who cared what Rachel's voice was like? It didn't matter.

"Hey, Paris?"

"Yes, Nick?"

"Wear one of those short skirts tonight. I love your legs." Rachel had perfectly fine legs, but Paris' were long and skinny. Rachel was too short. She didn't have long legs.

She giggled, a cute little-girl giggle. "Just for you, Nicky. I need to go, but I'll see you tonight. Just go up the VIP section and tell them you're with me."

"Looking forward to it, baby."

I shut off my phone and tossed it on the seat next to me. Rachel had said she wanted me to go off and be with other girls. No time like the present.

"You need another drink, blondie," the girl to my left on the couch cooed into my ear. She had straight dark hair and a skirt so short I had to keep averting my eyes or I might see something I shouldn't. Or maybe that was the point. Her hair fixated me anyway, because it was so shiny. All the girls here were sparkly. Glittery. I searched my alcohol-soaked brain for her name, but came up empty. Brandi? Bambi? No, it wasn't trampy. Just the skirt was trampy.

Belle? Maybe…

She looked like a princess. All the girls here did. Princesses out of some other-worldly fairy tale where all the girls were hot and boys followed their orders.. Whoever said that men were in charge had it all horribly wrong. I hadn't felt in control of my life in a long time, and tonight was no exception. In this fairy tale all the girls were born with amazing eyes, diamonds sparkling in them, making everything they touched or looked at shine.

And the boys? Well, the boys were just accessories really. Laughing at the girls' jokes and watching as they danced together. Buying champagne when the bottles ran out. The guys here all had a lot of money and talked about private schools and cars. I could do the car part, but I preferred to watch the girls.

Can we go back to that dancing together? Because that was really hot. Paris was out there now with some other blonde. Kim? Karen? Whatever. I think it started with a "K"… the alcohol wasn't helping my memory tonight.

"He can't even remember what he's drinking, Shell. Leave him alone!"

Shell… right. Short for Michelle? Or was it Rochelle?

Who cared as Paris sat down on my lap, sliding her arm around my shoulders. She'd worn the short skirt like I'd asked and didn't seem to mind when I put my hand on her bare thigh. She felt good here on my lap, her slender body hot from dancing and her long blonde hair brushing my cheek as she turned to scold her friend. With Paris here, it didn't matter what anyone else's name was. Apparently she was the only one you needed to know. All the girls paled in comparison to her and all the boys were vying for her attention.

But I was the one she'd chosen tonight.

"You sparkle," I heard myself say. At least I think that was my slurred voice.

She giggled, a high-pitched giggle that would have annoyed Rachel… No! No thinking about her. She didn't want me. She didn't care. Not like Paris did. Rachel made sure I couldn't find her today and she knew I'd want to. Paris called me and invited me out with her. She wanted to see me.

Apparently the six months was not going to be a problem with Rachel. She'd already skipped town. Maybe she really wanted forever, and the six months was just a way to let me down easy. Well, fuck her. She'd been so annoyed about me just talking to Paris last night let's see how she felt if it was more than just talking. I knew enough about this girl to know that the photographers followed her everywhere. I bet if we made a scene, we'd be in tomorrow's New York Post.

Paris wanted me. All these rich guys around and I was the one she was paying attention to. She was on my lap.

"I like you, Nick. You're fun." I felt her lips against my ear as she whispered in it. My entire body shivered at the sensation and I fought not to compare every move she made to Rachel. She had to get out of my brain.

Would going home with Paris Hilton get Rachel out of my head?

No one had called me fun in a long time. Not even my friends. When we were out I was always worried about what Rachel would think or what she was doing. The one or two times I'd been about to forget about her had ended in disaster. Okay, maybe I shouldn't have been kissing other girls when I had a girlfriend waiting for me. But I didn't have that now. Alone. Single. Free to do whatever the hell I felt like tonight and not feel the least bit guilty about it. I bet wherever Rachel was she wasn't feeling guilty.

Where was she? Did James whisk her off to some secluded hotel in the middle of nowhere? Some bizarre version of the witness protection program? Would Jeremy tell me if I asked? He'd helped me last time…

"Earth to Nicky!" Paris cooed again, kissing my cheek before she slid off my lap to get her drink.

"Come back here, baby," I said, grabbing her around the waist and she giggled as some champagne spilled out of her glass and onto her naked thigh. Leaning down, I licked it off slowly as she ran her fingers through my hair. If this club wasn't so crowded…

Suddenly I was looking up and Paris' lips were on mine. Was this really happening? I wasn't even single for 24 hours and I'd already hooked up with one of the hottest girls in the world? What the hell had I been doing for the last year?

"Don't let my ex hear you say I'm fun," I sighed as her lips left mine. "She thinks…"

Paris pretty smile was replaced by a pout and I stopped talking. What the hell did I do? She was just kissing me. She started that, not me!

The next thing I knew, she was gone and the brunette was back, "Here, have another. You'll need it."

"What just happened?" I asked before downing the shot she'd handed me.

Shaking her head, she watched me as I watched Paris out on the dance floor. "Silly boy, you don't talk about the ex. Not in front of the girl who likes you!"

Paris freakin' Hilton liked me? What the hell? Well, she was just kissing me and letting me lick her thigh. Did I just do that in public? I leaned my head against the back of the couch and closed my eyes. The world was spinning a little and I needed it to stop for five seconds so I could think.

She liked me?

"You seem like a nice guy, Nick."

I nodded, my eyes still closed, "I am. I'm a nice guy!"

I could be. I didn't think this girl and Rachel would be comparing notes anytime soon.

"Yeah," she smiled as I opened my eyes. "Paris might have you for breakfast, but it will be fun while it lasts."

"That's what I'm all about, baby. Let's have some fun."

I pulled the brunette up and we made our way out to the middle of the dance floor, joining Paris and her friends. The guys were all still back by the table talking cars and stocks and who knows what else. But I was going home with Paris Hilton.

Or not.

The limo stopped in front of my hotel and Paris' driver opened the door. I looked at her and she smiled. "I might have a reputation, Nick, but don't believe everything you read. You have my number?"

I looked down at my cell where she'd programmed her number. "Hey, that's you, baby."

She smiled, leaning up and kissing me quickly. She still tasted like champagne. Sweet and bubbly. "So you don't forget me when you're back in LA. I'm there next week, you know."

"Are you? I'll call… maybe we can hang out?"

She nodded, hugging me quickly before I got out of the car. We were definitely going to hang out.

"Bastard!"

Was that James?

I snuggled deeper into the pillows. He was probably yelling at Jeremy. I didn't need to get up for anything, did I?

Fuck.

I squeezed my eyes closed, like if I didn't open my eyes and realize where I was, it wouldn't be true. Maybe it was all a dream. I would open my eyes and I'd be on our tour bus and it would be the beginning of the summer and Nick would call to tell me he loved me and everything would be fine. The last few months had never happened. It was just a nightmare.

I pulled the covers over my head and pulled my legs up to my chest.

I couldn't curl up like that in my bunk on the bus. It was too narrow.

Sighing, I forced myself to open my eyes. The light streamed in from the open windows, reflecting off of the pool, and I shut them again.

Yeah. I was at JC's place in Florida. Fuck.

Nick wasn't mine any longer and I was here licking my wounds and trying to put my life back together. It was all true.

Rolling over, I glanced at the clock. 1:28.

Nick's birthday. Wasn't that just ironic? Or just plain annoying. Whatever.

Given that it was sunny, I knew it wasn't the middle of the night. What time had I gone to bed?

After dinner. I had been so tired I would have thought that James had slipped me something to make me sleep, but I hadn't really eaten anything so I doubt James and JC were secretly drugging me.

No, it was just everything catching up with me.

Did Nick really break into my house yesterday? I was pretty sure that wasn't just a dream.

I could lie next to the pool again today, couldn't I? I knew I had a life and a band to get back to, but I could take two full days to recover from Nick leaving me, right?

I heard a crash from downstairs. Were James and JC fighting? Was I driving JC insane? He'd been so good, leaving James and I alone most of the time. But I was probably really screwing up his time alone with James.

But I didn't hear any yelling. Just a crash. I could hear them talking, but it didn't sound like they were arguing. Should I just pretend to keep sleeping?

I was starving.

Maybe if they were fighting, they'd make up if I appeared. I didn't want James and JC to be fighting. I wanted to see a happy relationship.

Okay, it was a relationship that dare not speak its name, but they were still happy. The whole world knew that Nick and I were together, and look where we ended up. Maybe if we'd tried to keep it a secret, it would have ended better.

Even I knew that was stupid. Hunger was fucking with my logic processes.

I rolled out of bed and found shorts and a t-shirt, making plenty of noise in the bathroom, so that the guys would know I was coming.

When I got downstairs, they were sitting at the kitchen table, finishing lunch.

"Morning!" James said, sounding entirely too chipper. "Well, afternoon now."

"I was tired," I said. "Did you save me any lunch?"

"I'll make you a sandwich," James offered, getting up and heading towards the kitchen counter, where there was a spread of sandwich stuff and chips.

"I can make my own sandwich," I said, cutting him off, and he hesitated for a second, going to the refrigerator.

"I'll get you a soda, then."

"I'll get a glass," JC said, going over to the cabinet.

I turned around, looking at both of them. "What is going on? I might have a broken heart, but I can make myself a fucking sandwich."

"Nothing's going on," James said, shooting a quick look at his boyfriend.

"I heard yelling before. And a crash. Are you guys fighting? I'm sorry. I know I'm being a total downer."

"It's not you!" JC said quickly. "Not at all. Stay as long as you want. Forever. It's fine."

I raised an eyebrow at him and then looked at James. "Fess up."

"Nothing's wrong."

"Nick went out with Paris Hilton last night," JC said.

What? He… Nick? Did I hear that right?

James glared at JC, and JC shook his head. "She'd find out eventually. Isn't it better that she found out from us?"

"No!" James said.

"Is this just a rumor? How did you find out?"

James sighed, and then went over to the trashcan, pulling out a newspaper. Was that the New York Post? What the hell was it doing here?

He opened it, flipping to a page, and held it out to me. I snatched it out of his hands.

There was a picture of Paris fucking Hilton sitting in Nick's lap. Since they'd just met two days ago, I could safely assume this had been taken last night.

I was crying myself to sleep, and he was out partying with this blonde bimbo? Fucking bastard. He couldn't even grieve for 24 fucking hours? And I was feeling all sorry for him, because he'd gone looking for me and couldn't find me and he didn't have a James to be his friend.

Guess he found some new friends.

There was actually a story under the picture.

'Looks like the romance is over for music-super couple Nick Carter (Backstreet Boys) and Rachel Conner (Sudden Silence). Just one night after the couple was seen together at the Video Music Awards, where Conner's band took home two trophies, Carter was seen out partying with Paris Hilton, New York's favorite party girl. "Nick really needs someone more his own age," a source close to Carter said. "He's been unhappy for months, and Paris is just the girl to make him forget all about Rachel."'

"Fucking bastard!" I screamed, looking down at the paper in my hands. "More his own age? Is that chronologically or mentally? Because I'm not sure how many twelve-year-olds are available!"

"He and Paris deserve one another," James said. "Dude. He left you for that?"

"No!" I screamed, tossing the paper at James. "He did not leave me for her. She was a fucking symbol! She was not supposed to be real!"

"I'm sure it's nothing, Rache," JC offered. "He was out, so was she, they were at the same place at the same time."

"Or I walked out the door two nights ago and he called her immediately."

He just couldn't wait for me to leave, could he? He'd been pushing me away all summer so that I'd do the breaking up for him. Fucking gutless coward.

I screamed, covering my face with my hands. "Damnit!"

James came over to me and I pushed him away. "Don't touch me! I…. he… fuck!"

I didn't even know what to say. He ran to her? That vapid, stupid, famous for being rich and blonde bitch? I left and he wanted that?

"I spent a fucking year of my life with that guy, and the whole time he just wanted a trampy blonde. No wonder it fell apart. No wonder he told me it was too hard to be with me. I bet she's really fucking easy."

"She looks it," JC said, and I stopped ranting, smiling at him a little.

"She has this fucking annoying little girl voice, too. All squeaky and sweet, like she's so fucking innocent, while she's plotting how to steal your boyfriend."

"I hate girls like that," JC said.

"You don't like girls in general," James countered.

"I do too! I like Rachel. She's smart and funny and interesting. There are plenty of great women like her out there, and Nick picks the stupid hotel heiress?"

"It was easy," I said, realizing what probably happened. "She called him and told him where to meet them and he just went along with it, because he knew it would piss me off. Or, okay, maybe it isn't about me."

I still sorta thought it was about me. It had only been a day. He was still in the revenge phase, right? I refused to believe that I mattered that little.

"It wasn't about me, it was just about being easy. He didn't have to think about it. She made the plans and he went along with it. That's what he does with his friends. He just does what they tell him to do. He doesn't want to work that hard. Fucking lazy-ass dickhead."

I shook my head, considering. "His friends will love her. They love girls like her. Pretty and stupid. Hell, Paris has money. She will be the queen of the ball."

And I would have to see pictures like this all the fucking time. I had barely known who she was two days ago, but I knew what she looked like. She was all over the tabloids for dancing on tables and other stupid shit.

Suddenly my heart hurt, and I slid down to sit on the floor. "I can't stand it. I can't look at shit like this every day and have to think about how much he doesn't love me."

James was next to me in an instant. "That's not true, and you know it. He does love you, he just doesn't know how. If he doesn't have the courage to love you and give you everything you deserve, then Paris can have him."

"He used to give me everything. What if he's that way with her, and I have to see it in the papers every day?"

"You won't," James assured me. "You're right. This was easy. This is not going to last. He has to go back to LA, and then he's in Europe for weeks. Paris does not have the patience for that. This was one night, and he did it because he knew it would upset you. That's all it was. You will not have to look at pictures like this every day."

He glanced over his shoulder at JC. "You wouldn't have had to look at this picture if JC had just let me burn it like I wanted to."

I leaned my head against James' chest. "No. I'm glad I saw it. I was feeling all fucking sorry for him yesterday. I needed to get pissed off again."

"Why in the world did you feel sorry for him?" JC asked.

"Because he doesn't have a James, like I do. He had to turn to stupid hotel heiresses instead."

"That's his fault, for never forming a lasting relationship."

I had to laugh, a little, at that. "Yeah. Screw him."

We sat like that for a minute, quiet, and then somebody's cell phone rang. "Probably Saffron," James said. "She wants a statement. This will be everywhere by tonight."

Of course she did. I bet Nick's people were doing back flips. His publicist hated that we were together. They had this whole marketing scheme drawn up around how Nick was more marketable single. Well now they all got their wish.

"The good news is, Justin has called about twenty times already," JC said, and I did laugh.

"Of course he did."

I looked at him, considering. "That would be news, wouldn't it? If Justin and I went out?"

JC exchanged a glance with James, looking for his approval. "Um… probably."

I pulled away from James and waved my hand at JC. "Set it up. He can name the time and place. As long as there are photographers around, and he knows I'm not going home with him, I will be there."

"That's devious," James said. But he was impressed.

"Nick can date all the hotel heiresses he wants. But I don't want anyone to think that I'm pining for him. More his own age, my ass."

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