The Inevitable Fanfiction

Chapter 7
It is the weekend which Paula is very grateful for. She is taking a walk in Beverly Hills, iPod on full blast, water bottle in hand. She likes it there; it is a classy area, with all her favourite places packed into one. She wouldn’t live there though - preferring a skirting neighbourhood, Sherman Oak, where she has stayed for almost a year now.
“Paula?” She hears a voice, just barely, in the midst of a Jackson 5 song. Her head snaps up.
There he is. Simon Cowell. Is he a plague to her soul? Can she never be rid of him? He is in his Bentley, window rolled down, staring at her. They each just as surprised as the other.
“Hi, Simon.” Paula pulls the earphones out, stopping the music. “What are you doing here?”
“I live just a few blocks away, actually – Um, Paula, I’d love to stay and chat, but as you can see...” He points to the currently red traffic light at the end of the road, beside the pavement Paula is standing on. She nods and gestures with her hand to pay attention to the light, instead of her.
“Can I give you a lift?” He asks, surprising her.
“I’m on a walk... It would be kind of pointless, wouldn’t it?” For reasons unbeknownst to him, Simon feels slightly offended. Yes, a ride would him would be pointless. Especially when you’re practically enemies. Yet, for reasons unbeknownst to her, she feels culpable to see the hurt in his eyes. She jogs over to the other side of him and gets into the front passenger seat despite herself.
“Where to?” Paula rattles off her address and tells him she will guide him along the way. He nods and speeds along the road as soon as the light switches to green. She realises that for a driver driving on the other side of the road with little practise, he pulls it off with ease. One hand on the steering wheel, the other resting on the gearshift next to him, sunglasses over his eyes, he once again looks too majestic for Paula’s liking.
“You can change it, if you’d like,” Simon says after a moment of silence. For the first time since she sat in the car does she hear what song has been playing. It is Unchained Melody by the Righteous Brothers; a classic.
Paula contemplates it a moment. “I like this.”
Oh, my love, my darling,
I’ve hungered for your touch,
A long, lonely time,
And time goes by, so slowly,
Are you still mine?
I need your love, I need you love,
Godspeed your love to me.
As the song fades out, Simon presses the ‘back’ button, letting it restart. “Nice, isn’t it?”
“Beautiful.” They nod in agreement with each other. Suddenly, Paula laughs.
“What?” He asks, turning his head to glance at her briefly.
“We’re actually agreeing on something!” She giggles, like it’s both shocking and hilarious.
“First time for everything, right?” He murmurs before Paula tells him to take a left at the junction.
When the next song begins, Paula straight away grins. “I love this song!”
“I hate this song,” Simon says, at the same time. He doesn’t see the appeal of Singing In The Rain. This time he is the one to titter. “Knew it wouldn’t last,” he mutters, complacently.
“Ugh.” Paula rolls her eyes, but can’t help smiling slightly. He is almost funny, she decides. “I don’t get you, Simon.”
“You don’t know me, darling,” He replies. His words seem serious and genuine, but the way he eyes her up and down through the rear view mirror, with that glint in his eye, she assumes he is teasing. He winks.
Again a slight silence passes over them. Paula gets lost in the song, replaying Gene Kelly dancing to it in her mind. Her idol. “This is the song that inspired me to become a dancer,” Paula whispers.
What a far cry from their previous banter. She isn’t sure why she said; why she feels Simon should know this about her. She isn’t sure of much when she is around him.
“Oh,” He breathes. It is as if she has just rattled off the most shocking news of the world. He is jolted – there are so many pieces that make Paula, and he simply cannot grasp them all. She is like a Rubik’s cube in a way, where there are many twists and turns and the puzzle can only be solved when all sides of it are displayed and analysed.
There is a prolonged silence this time, both adults seemingly distracted, lost in their own thoughts. Neither knows that these thoughts were only of the other. Simon’s eyes take themselves off the road every few moments to sneak a glimpse at her face. Paula’s every fibre is aware of his hand just a few inches away from hers and subconsciously thinks of ways she can brush against him ‘accidentally’. It is a tiring game they have begun to play; a sport, new and thrilling to them equally. It is outlandish because Simon has more often than not gone for the hard-to get, and Paula has always been pursued by men being the hard-to-get, but neither could have prepared for themselves for the ultimate challenge – a challenge that they haven’t even figured out the rules for yet. Was he to pursue her? Was she to resist him? Time would only tell.
Simon asks in which direction he is to go when there is a switch of lanes. A few minutes more and they are in front of her home. Paula sits awkwardly, her hand touching the door handle.
“I guess I’ll be going... Thanks for the lift.” She expects a nod of some sort in reply, but instead he raises a brow.
“I drive you all this way and you aren’t even going to invite me in?” Simon gasps dramatically, hand over his heart.
“You want to come in?” Paula doesn’t know what else to say.
“Noo, you want me to come in.” He rolls his eyes like it is the most obvious thing in the world.
So Paula rings the doorbell of her house and the housekeeper opens the gate from inside. Simon slides the car into the driveway alongside her Porsche. Marina lets them into the house and offers them both a drink. They decline.
Paula grabs the phone that has begun to ring in the living room, causing her dogs to bark loudly, echoing through the house. It is her assistant who wants to confirm that the jewellery Paula designed is being manufactured. This excites her – she wants to give some of these trinkets to the contestants, for inspiration and confidence. By the time she hangs up, she has to turn around to see her co-worker, comfortably parked on her sofa, all three dogs in his lap. She watches them lick his face and him cuddle them like he was their owner. He kisses Tulip on the head.
“You like dogs,” says Paula. It’s not a question.
“Who doesn’t?”
She nods, offering a silent ‘touché’, joining him on the couch. The dogs clamber into her lap and lick her face devotedly. “Hi my babies.”
“What are their names?” Simon inquires.
“Tinkerbelle, Tulip and that’s Thumbelina.” Simon scoffs lightly. How girly. “They’re cute!” She protests in a whiny voice.
“I’m sure, darling,” he says sarcastically. Paula rolls her eyes and excuses herself for a minute. She uses the bathroom quickly and tosses her hair a little. She doesn’t know why exactly she is primping, but to look anything less than pretty in the eyes of such a detractor would be a sin as far as she is concerned.
When she re-enters her living room, the dogs are playing on the floor amongst themselves, while Simon is peering at a stack of CDs on the shelf. Her back tenses and her mouth forms into an ‘o’ shape; Simon would have seen the thick file of papers beside the jewel cases, the one that has the word ‘Adoption’ on it. It is a personal matter, one she doesn’t like to discuss and when Simon turns almost immediately to see her there, he sits back on the couch like a good boy.
“Sorry,” he says. He hadn’t meant to pry, and Paula, while furious inside, understands that it was an accident; this sympathy infuriating her even more. He smiles apologetically and she accepts with a curt nod.
“Do you really hate me?” He wonders out loud after pondering over the question.
“Yes.” Her response is immediate. There is not a trace of doubt in her words, and yet again, when his face falls, she finds herself feeling guilty. “I hate you on the show,” she alters.
“Well that makes me feel a lot better, thanks.”
He huffs acerbically. “You hate me too!” Paula says, trying to salvage her conscience.
“Of course.” He seems unfazed. An awkward silence takes over them as they watch the puppies play. Paula feels a twinge of hurt to hear that he dislikes her, as hypocritical as it is. But does she believe it? She can’t be sure. He offered to drive her home and almost forced an entry. That’s perfectly natural when you hate someone, she mocks.
“I’m going to go,” Simon says suddenly and Paula is relieved. She does not want to have him in her sight at the moment.
“Okay.” They stand and Paula walks him to her door.
Simon takes a good look around the house one more time before setting his eyes on the small woman before him.
“Bye, then,” he offers.
“Bye.”
Again there is quiet. Why does he have to stare at her that way? With those eyes, those splendid bottomless irises? And why, oh why does he look like he wants to kiss her? She should be angry – furious even – or at least a little offended. She had been the one to say publically that she would not kiss him. And yet her eyes flicker from his eyes to his lips over and over, as she leans in despite her mind opposing. She allows him to hold the back of her head as he presses his lips to hers, and the only one she is mad at is herself. She hates how she feels when she tastes him, how warm she gets, how not even the smell of cigarettes on his breath can make her pull away. He kisses her once, pulling away a moment later, only to be drawn back again a second time, and a third. Each kiss lasts a second longer than the previous, and it is only after a sudden burst of repentance flashes through them, do they lips part. They pull back, breathless and baffled as ever.
“Are you going to murder me for this?” Simon asks after a moment, his voice low and accent thick, making Paula shudder.
She bites her lip and shakes her head from side to side. No. It was her mistake too, unfortunately. “Bye.”
“Bye.”
He leaves and she shuts the door behind him, leaning heavily against it.

***
“Good evening,” says a deep whisper from somewhere behind Paula.
“Hi, Simon,” she murmurs, refusing to turn to him and look him in the eyes. She continues to riffle through the papers on her table, the contestants’ sheet music.
“What are you doing with those?” He asks, as he steps into the dressing room. He closes the door with the heel of his foot, hands tucked into his pockets.
“I offered to look through the kids’ music pieces, in case they weren’t sure if it fitted,” she says, with a small shrug, still looking down.
“You don’t have to do all that, you know.” To say he is surprised at her concern would be an understatement.
“I know.” She finally finds the strength to look up. “I wanted to.”
‘She cares,’ Simon muses, amazed. He has been in the music business for a long while and never has he seen someone who truly cared, who truly wanted to help and not show off their brilliance. In awe, he simply nods and watches her become absorbed once more in the music, occasionally moving her fingers as if she were playing the piano.
“C, C, B minor... Hmm...” she thinks out loud.
Simon clears his throat. “I actually have a proposition for you, Paula.”
“Really?” She looks up at him once more, suspicious. “What kind of proposition would that be?”
“I think...” he drawls, sitting himself beside her on the couch. His arm goes around the back of her, not quite touching her skin. “I think we should hook up.”
If Paula had been sipping something, it would have spewed all over his face. Instead, with no fluids in sight, she resorts to choking on her saliva. “You’re joking?”
“No, I’m quite serious actually.” While his face shows no sign of humour, his eyes dance mischievously. “I think we should get the tension out.”
Paula stares up at him, mouth agape for a minute. When his face doesn’t budge, she begins to laugh sarcastically, unbelievingly. “And what makes you think I want that?”
“Darling,” Simon runs his hand along her colour bone, watching goose bumps rise. “It’s obvious that you do... want it – want me.” He grins.
Paula pulls away, standing up, blushing furiously and even stamps her foot. “Sorry to disappoint you once again Mr. Cowell, but I would welcome root canal and fungus between my toes before I welcomed you into my bedroom.” She crosses her arms defiantly.
“Who said anything about your bedroom?” Simon stands slowly and takes cautious steps towards his beautiful co-judge. She, in turn, steps back one pace for each of his steps forward until her back is pressed against the wall. “I’m willing to do it right here...” He brings his face down so it levels with hers. “Right now, baby.”
She is scared to say the least, wondering how far he would go. Would he hurt her? Fear flashes across her eyes, forcing Simon to put an end to the charade. Suddenly, he laughs hysterically, like she was the funniest thing he had ever seen. “Paula – oh God, you should have seen your face!” He cackles.
With a hand over her heart, eyes wide, Paula realises that he had done this purely to rile her up. She doesn’t know what to feel – Relief? Anger? Hurt? She doesn’t know. She had been afraid that he would have done something to hurt her, and for that, she is relieved he hadn’t. However, she is angry for his cruel trick and angry that she fell for it. More than that, in her heart of hearts, she is hurt that he took sleeping with her like a joke. Would it be so funny to have bedded her? Shaking her head, she releases that thought. It isn’t as if she anticipates that happening, so what reason does she have to feel injured?
“You’re pathetic, Simon!” she snaps.
“It was funny as hell.”
“Was not!” she almost pouts down at him, still in hysterics on her sofa. “I don’t like pranks like that.”
“Who said it was a prank?” He grins, making Paula’s head spin. Now what did he mean? Hadn’t it been a joke? Hadn’t his bluff been called?
“What do you mean?” she asks softly.
“I meaannn...” Simon takes her hand and pulls her down to sit beside him again. By the time she tries to resist, she is already seated. “Even though we aren’t about to do it here, doesn’t mean you don’t want me bad.” He sniggers.
Instead of reacting loudly, she rolls her eyes tauntingly. “Keep telling yourself that, Simon. It’s exactly what your ego needs – to get bigger!”
“You’ll see, sweetheart. I’ll have you begging for more.” His eyebrows waggle up and down suggestively and Paula must resist the urge to slap his face.
“Get out of my room, Simon.”
He stands and obliges, walking to the door. “Do I get a goodbye kiss?” He smooches the air.
“Out!”
He chuckles in that low tone that rings very appealingly in Paula’s ears. She closes the door behind him
fighting a smile.