by Kristy Marie
God, I hope Brick doesn’t look over here and see the dumbest grin on my face.
Slowly, as if something was lurking within the folds of the vinyl, Vee drops the trash bag and grasps the slide with both hands, flipping it over for a better view of the writing on the back.
It’s the highlight of my shitty week when her face falls into a frown, and her gaze snaps up to my townhouse. A few seconds later, her phone is in her hands, and mine is buzzing with a notification.
I’ll be honest. I can’t wait to read it.
DO NOT TEXT THIS NUMBER: Really?
I admire my contact name for her, one that I clearly ignored yesterday morning, and grin.
Me: Good morning to you too, Valentina. I’m fine. Thanks for asking. You’re looking fresh-faced and full of deceit this morning.
I watch as her head falls back, and she looks at the clouds as if she is praying.
DO NOT TEXT THIS NUMBER: Did you know that there is a break-in every 13 seconds? Really?
I grin. I couldn’t remember what exactly I wrote on the bottom of several of the slides. It was late and I was drunk, but it still makes me laugh.
Me: Okay. Thanks, Sherlock Holmes. I’ll keep that under advisement.
DO NOT TEXT THIS NUMBER: I know you wrote this. I can tell by the second-grade penmanship.
Don’t worry, I’m not offended. On a good day, my handwriting looks awful. On a drunk day, I’m sure it’s even worse. I think she’s being generous with the second-grade assessment.
Me: If I were you, I would do a little less accusing and a lot more hurrying. Tony will be coming out for his morning paper soon.
Her gaze snaps up to our complex owner’s door. Her friend may have offered him game tickets for the party, but that doesn’t mean he won’t fine the shit out of them for the mess. This isn’t a frat house. There are strict rules to living in this complex, and I’m pretty sure a littered courtyard is in the fine print somewhere.
Vee pockets her phone and takes my advice, hurrying to clean the mess.
“Is that it?” Brick asks beside me.
I feel my mouth pull tight. “Have you ever heard of delayed gratification, Brick?”
Seriously. A good video needs click bait—a mystery you have to keep watching in order to figure out the story.
“Yeah, but now her friends are out there,” he notes.
Even better. Now she’ll be worried about what else I wrote on the slides.
“Just keep filming. Keep the camera on her.”
Brick grunts out his understanding or frustration. I can’t tell which. It really doesn’t matter as long as he catches every second of Valentina Lambros going down.
Vee scrambles outside, barking orders at her friends, giving them each a job. She does a pretty good job of making it out like she’s worried Tony will come out and catch the mess versus them finding all my secret notes to her.
She hurries over to the courtyard, picking up all the slides, reading covertly as she finds more than a handful of notes on the bottom of the slides. When she and her crew have all the trash and slides bagged up, they all retreat back inside.
“Can I stop recording now?” Brick asks.
I lick my lips, the taste of victory sweet on my lips. “Take thirty.”
His brow raises. “What happens in thirty minutes?”
Was it really a good idea to hire Brick? I’m thinking no. “You’ll see. Just keep the camera on standby.”
It takes exactly thirty-one minutes before Brick is able to press record again.
University CamFlix Competition Submission
Entry Number: 75
Sebastian and Valentina
First Interview Continued, or that time I thought about how long I could hold my breath until I passed out
Tom coughs, attempting to mask his laughter. “So, Sebastian acting the scene out behind you was the start of the wars?”
Why must he ask me to repeat it? “Yes. He humiliated me on camera.”
Sebastian, unable to mask his laugh, adds sweetly. “Oh, come on, baby. I think you were doing a jam up job of that on your own. I was merely your funny sidekick.” He kisses me on the cheek, and I manage not to vomit. “Your fans loved it.”
They loved it all right. They loved it all the way to his page.
“You’re a dick.”
The asshole neighbor of mine grins and slides his hand down his bare stomach, lingering dangerously close to the button on his jeans. “Mmm… Don’t pull out that southern Latina accent of yours. You know what it does to me.”
His words say it like it sounds sexy; yet, the look on his face his nothing but pure distaste.
“Where are they?” I push through the space between his hard body and the door frame. I don’t ask if I can come in. Once upon a time, I was over here more than my own apartment.
“Where is what?”
Deep breaths, Vee. I know you want to throat punch him, but you can’t. You need to get what you came for first.
“My keys. Where are they?”
I notice a guy who I haven’t seen before rounding the kitchen counter with a camera pointed right at me. “Cute,” I tell Sebastian. “You managed to blackmail a decent human to document your misdemeanors.”
Sebastian flinches as if my comment stings, but he schools his features quickly. “Smile for the camera, Valentina. Show all that hostility to our loyal fans. You know they love when mommy and daddy fight.”
If my father wouldn’t be sorely disappointed in me, I’d headbutt this fool in front of me. Instead, I go with, “If that camera gets anywhere near me, I will shove it so far down your throat, you’ll be your own personal nightlight.”
My comment brings a smile to Bash-hole’s face. “Violence isn’t very ladylike, but then again, you’ve never been much of a lady.”
He’s not wrong there. When your father is a Marine and all your friends are boys with Marine fathers as well, you learn to hold your own. Before I could talk, I could perform a chokehold. Such is the norm in my life, and it’s served me well.
“I want my keys, Sebastian.”
He leans against the wall, smug and annoying as shit. “Not until you tell me what you learned.”
And… his cameraman is about to witness a murder.
“I’ve learned that my neighbor is one misdemeanor away from being a serial thief,” I spit.
“And?” he prompts flatly, as if my comment did nothing to deter him.
“And one day I will see his face on one of those missing person boards when someone finally offs him for being a complete pain in the ass.”
He grins. “Oh, come on. Not a complete pain. I could only dream of being a complete pain in the ass. Right now, I think my status is one of a minor pain or just a twinge, but not a complete pain in the ass.”
“Sebastian!” I pop a hip and blow out a breath. “Give me my keys. I have places to be. I don’t have time for this shit.”
He rubs his jaw casually, as if he has all day to grate on my nerves. “All you have to do is tell me what you learned.”
It’s finally reached the point of loathing.
Sighing, I pray for patience and look up at the ceiling, before leveling him with a look. As bored as I can manage, I state the stupid facts that I’m impressed he spelled correctly when he wrote them. “There are two million burglaries a year which translates to a burglary once every thirteen seconds.” I roll my eyes. “Happy now?”
He pushes off the wall and leans into my personal space, forcing me to endure that organic smell of cedar. “Wrong. It was two point five million break-ins a year. And you, sweetheart, need to be more mindful of that. Just because Daddy pays for your posh little townhouse doesn’t mean your neighbors are decent.”
“Clearly,” I mutter. “Now, hand them over.”
When the smuggest grin emerges on his face, I know this little shitshow of torture isn’t over.
“I’ll offer you an exchange,” he says, his eyes dancing with delight. He loves tor
turing me.
I sigh. I’m not getting out of this. No matter what I say or do to him, he will continue to taunt me until he gets his way. “Your keys…” He dangles the words out as bait.
“I’m listening.”
“For my pillow and eight weeks of playing my girlfriend.”
I choke on a gasp.
“Are you high?”
“Sober as a nun.”
“Why the hell would I want to pretend to be your girlfriend? And why in the fresh hell would I subject myself to it for eight weeks, even if I was stupid enough to agree?”
Sebastian pulls his phone out between us and opens the MyView app.
“I don’t have time for this, Sebastian. Give me my keys and we can negotiate the pillow and chair later.” I add my chair to the mix because he’s giving that back, even if I have to pry it from his cold, dead hands. “I don’t need to be subjected to your MyView escapades.”
Really, I have been tortured enough the past couple of days.
I fold my arms and then I hear it. My voice. “What the hell are you watching?”
Sebastian holds the phone out of my reach and starts rattling off random comments. “Holy shit! They’re back! I’ve missed seeing their videos.”
I scrunch my face. “What video?” I wasn’t shooting a video at the party and neither was he. I’m not allowed since Drew and Fenn can’t seem to behave. Fenn is one more suspension away from expulsion from the baseball team. He doesn’t need any more bad publicity than he already has.
“Aww! He’s jealous! That’s so sweet. I want a man who gets pissed if I wear a bikini. OMG! Are they together? It looks like he was about to kick that guy’s ass! Swoon alert.”
I jump for his phone, and he holds it out of my reach and says, “Apparently, someone at the party shot this video of us and posted it. Now there’s a rumor floating around that we might be an item.” He grins. “Or at least a couple who are currently fighting.”
I pretend to gag, and he ignores me. “You don’t have to believe me. Just look at your subscribers. I got a thousand overnight.”
Don’t do it, Vee. It’s a trick, an elaborate prank, just so he can get back at you.
“It doesn’t matter what the internet thinks. We aren’t an item, nor will we ever be.”
He’s quick to respond. “Agreed but seeing how your video is disqualified and mine needs…” he grimaces, “—help. Neither of us is going to win the competition. Stupid Malcolm with his copied ideas is going to beat us in our own house.”
I level Sebastian with a flat look. “The internet isn’t our house.”
“Yes, it is. Our videos ruled the top ten page of MyView’s best videos for an entire semester. Are we really going to let Malcolm take that from us?”
I throw my hands in the air, so done with all of this. “Sebastian, I’m tired, and honestly, I don’t care about the contest or Malcolm or you. All I want is my keys and my chair that you stole.”
It was a bad morning. Aspen’s words at the party kept me tossing and turning all night. She doesn’t understand what this is right here. This drama and constant back and forth. This isn’t love. It’s a friendship that went bad.
Sebastian sighs and pockets his phone. “Look, I know this isn’t what either of us want. I would much rather film alone and I’m certain you would prefer to continue creating your makeup videos, but the cold hard truth is that we won’t win. I know you want to get noticed by a studio.”
I narrow my eyes. He’s making sense and that’s unlike him.
He takes my silence as my acquiescence and continues, “You won’t get noticed without the views. You know that, and I know that. This is a good opportunity for both of us.”
I chew the inside of my cheek. The demon is right. Neither of us will get the views we’ll need to win the competition.
“It’ll be like old times,” he adds.
“Ugh.” He knew that would get me. I remember the time he’s mentioning. We had to make up this elaborate story in order to get backstage into a concert. It went sideways, of course, and we were caught, but I had the time of my life. He did too, but he’ll never admit it.
“Please, Vee. We’ll split the money fifty-fifty.”
“Of course we’d split the money equally.” I scoff. “Did you really consider offering me less?”
I don’t know why this shocks me. One minute he’s begging and the next he’s saying some dumb shit that makes me want to walk straight out the door.
His face looks appalled, but I know him better than that. “Of course not.”
Sure he wouldn’t.
He holds out his hand. “Deal?”
This is so incredibly stupid, but then so is stealing each other’s shit. I guess Sebastian and I aren’t known to make the best decisions around each other. Sighing, I slip my hand in his. “Deal. Now give me my keys then we’ll discuss details.”
That smug smile of his reemerges. “Sure.” He nods to his front pocket. “They’re all yours.”
Oh hell no. “You really are sleep deprived if you think I am sticking my hand in your pocket.” Give me a break. I might be a moron for signing up to play this idiot’s girlfriend, but I draw the line at reaching into his pocket.
“No?” He asks, his voice carrying a hidden challenge. “My girlfriend should have no problem reaching into my pocket to get her keys.” He flashes me a wink. “Some might even call it sexy.”
Some might call it nauseating.
But he’s right and his cameraman behind us is probably still filming. A girlfriend would have no qualms about digging into his pocket. I guess it’s better to just rip off the proverbial Band-Aid. If Sebastian and I are really going to trick the campus and the producers of the UniCamFlix competition, then we better start behaving more like lovers and less like enemies.
“Fine,” I agree. “But I swear if your dick touches my hand—even through the fabric—then all of this is over. Do not even try to mess with me.” I take a breath. “Matter of fact, let’s go ahead and shake on a truce.” I look him in the eyes, so he knows I’m serious. “No pranks while we do this.”
With a terse nod, he sticks his hand out. “Agreed.”
A huge weight feels like it lifts off my shoulders in that moment of shaking his hand. Maybe it’s a truce from the months of war between us, or maybe it’s because I’m relieved to finally get my friend back. I guess we’ll never know because the ass opens his mouth and ruins the euphoric feeling in an instant.
“Go ahead, sugar. Get your keys.”
“We’re not using pet names either,” I add, already making a mental rulebook that I plan on writing down the minute I get home. It’s not like Sebastian will follow them, but at least I can point to them in writing when I yell at him. Regardless, we have to have rules because last time we didn’t and look what happened.
“We’re using pet names, babe,” he argues. “Any girlfriend of mine would expect such things from me.”
Gag me.
“Fine, but no stupid ones.”
He cocks his head to the side. “Define stupid.”
Heaven help me. This is worse than that time I thought it would be cute to have curtain bangs.
“We’ll define them later,” I tell him, taking a deep breath and looking to the ceiling. I don’t know what I think I’ll find there, but I’m hoping it’s patience or at least some top-shelf alcohol. Either would work at this point.
“Sounds good. Now, would you like me to sit or stand for the shot of you getting your keys. I think we’ll caption it: ‘Girlfriend leaves keys hanging in the door. Boyfriend saves the day.’” He does this stupid little wink that a girlfriend would find swoon-worthy. But as his enemy, I simply find it annoyingly hard to ignore.
“That’s a terrible caption. No one will click on that video.”
He shrugs. “They will if the picture is of my abs and your hand in my pocket.”
Ugh. He’s right. Anything that remotely looks sexy or risqué will have our viewers clic
king on the video.
“I think I’m going to need a scalding shower after this,” I mutter, wiping my hands on my shirt. They’re sweaty, okay? It’s not like I have experience sticking my hand in guys’ pants. I mean, I’m not a virgin, so I have been close to a man’s dick before, but this is Bash-hole we’re talking about. The closest I’ve ever gotten with him is feeling his lips on mine, which was short-lived. Instances where we have to be close and have our hands on each other will be new for me. For him, only having one person this close at a time will be a new experience.
“Vee,” he says, pulling my attention back to him and that stupid pocket.
I wave him off and glance back at his cameraman. “Are you rolling?”
He nods, and I take a step into Sebastian’s body. I can already feel the heat from his bare chest warning me away. It’s a safety mechanism meant to alert girls like me away from boys like him. But like all women, I need to feel the burn before I back off.
Swallowing, I reach up and cup his jaw. He tenses at my touch, and it makes me feel slightly better. Sebastian might act like he’s at ease and has no problem with me being close to him, but this deal of ours will torture him just as much as it will me.
“Thanks for locking up this morning after you left,” I say sweetly, completely pulling the words out of my ass. I had to have some reason that he would have my keys. Well, he could have just locked the door from the inside, but our viewers won’t care. We’ll just chalk it to him wanting to make sure I was safe by locking the deadbolt behind him. That sounds like something a sweet boyfriend—not Sebastian—would do.
“No problem,” he says, his voice raspy and thick. I don’t know if he’s trying to make it sound sexy or if he needs to clear his throat.