Untouchable ~ A Jared Leto/MARS Fanfiction

Chapter Eighteen

It hits me after I leave the kitchen to get ready for Flora DuSchene's arrival, and now I'm left more confused and exasperated than ever. And yes, I grudgingly admit to myself, a little euphoric, too.

Moments ago, Jared stood in the kitchen in broad daylight, casually pulled me into his arms and gave me a kiss.

Having to come up with something on the spot for singing a song that I shouldn't know probably delayed the reaction to this very unexpected and out-of-character gesture from him. Or maybe it didn't hit me in the moment because it felt...natural. For both of us.

I shake my head as I start the shower, wondering if I'll ever figure Jared out. More than anything in the world I want to understand this enigmatic, multi-dimensional man. I want to know what makes him all that he is. A powerful persona, a man who, with his low, slightly raspy but steady voice, his piercing and unblinking gaze, or with just his presence has command of everything and everyone around him. And yet, below the surface I've glimpsed the vulnerability that he struggles so hard to contain and control. I've seen Jared without that mask; in Oak Creek Canyon, and, on a very few occasions so far, here in L.A.

As I undress, I think about the tears he shed when Katia left his hospital room. I remember last night and the way his voice caught as he spoke about his need to separate caring for someone and sex. It's as if this is a reality that causes conflict and immense pain in his soul. Why does he feel this way? What happened that led him to that belief?

I step under the luxuriously hot spray and allow it to soak my hair before reaching for the bottle of fragrant shower gel. It's scented with freesia and jasmine, a wonderful-smelling combination. I wonder as I have since arriving at Jared's house who picked it out for me. Whoever it was, they were spot-on with the choice.

Shannon might know why Jared's the way he is; he probably does know. But asking him is out of the question. He already cautioned me about getting too emotionally involved with his younger brother, advice I failed to heed. He'd know immediately that I've fallen for Jared, after assuring him I wouldn't.

Constance, then. Jared's mother seems to understand Jared very well. But...asking his own mother to share very intimate and personal things about her son with me, an outsider? No.

I scrub my body, rinse, and start on my hair. Squeezing excess water from it, I sigh, knowing the only way I'll get answers is from Jared himself. And it's up to him whether or not those answers are truthful, complete ones, and not the cryptic half-answers he's prone to giving.

My hair isn't even dry yet when Jared calls out over the intercom that Flora and Magda have arrived. I glance quickly at the clock; it's not even eleven. I quickly tie the damp mess back and hurry to the front of the house. Shelby has gone to Tyrell's, and they're spending the day swimming in Jared's pool. She's also informed me that Jimmy's barbecuing later on so she won't be accompanying me with Flora for lunch. Since Jimmy and Ty aren't by any definition vegan or even vegetarian, I envy her.

I slow at the entrance to the front living room as I hear voices from the foyer, and then they appear. Jared, who in the last week has gotten very adept with his crutches, nimbly hops down the three steps into the living room, followed by Magda in his customary outfit of black button-down shirt and gray pants. Next to him is Flora DuSchene. Her Native American heritage is evident in her olive skin, straight black, shoulder-length hair, her high cheekbones and her wide-spaced dark eyes. She's dressed expensively casual, with designer jeans hugging her slender curves and a boat-necked yellow tee that looks very good with her coloring. A brown and gold bag is slung over her shoulder.

All three of them look...not upset, exactly, but...tense. There's an charged undercurrent in the air that's palpable. Like something's wrong.

"It's so weird to see you like this," Flora tells Jared, and I immediately recognize the Northern Minnesota accent that Southern California hasn't erased. "Are you doing okay? Isn't it making you crazy?"