Off the Air

by L.H. Cosway

  We exchanged the usual pleasantries, then Trev, Isaac, and James came over to say hello. The ladies beamed under their attention. I went back to finish my lunch, but when I reached the table, Cal grabbed my hand and pulled me onto his lap.

  “What are you doing?” I hissed under my breath. “Let go of me.”

  “Please, just until they go. Olive is giving me her serial-killer stare.”

  “She’s not a serial killer. She’s just a fan.”

  “The same way Randall Evans is just a fan?” he countered.

  Okay, so he had me there. Randall Evans was this really posh bloke from back home who came to a lot of our public appearances. He was in his thirties and was weirdly intense with me, similar to how Olive was with Cal. The vast majority of people who watched the show were perfectly normal and lovely, but when you had a large viewership, there were always going to be one or two oddballs.

  Anyway, Randall was the sort of bloke who I suspected liked to be tied up and spanked by the women he slept with. I could come across pretty tough and no-nonsense on the show, which was probably why he was so interested in me.

  I remembered all the times Cal had saved me from awkward encounters with Randall and decided to return the favour.

  “Fine, I’ll sit here, but only because you got Randall off my back last time.”

  “Thank you.” Cal exhaled. He sounded genuinely grateful as he avoided eye contact with Olive.

  And believe me, she was giving him some serious stare action from the other side of the deli. It appeared creepiness was not something confined to any one gender.

  Paul sat on the other side of the table, on the phone with someone. He arched a questioning eyebrow when he saw where I was sitting. I mouthed the name “Olive” at him and he nodded, understanding.

  Cal’s hand rested on my upper thigh. His thumb brushed back and forth, but since it was under the table, no one could see. I stiffened.

  “Can you quit that?”

  He tilted his head to me. “Quit what?”

  My voice was strained. “Quit touching me or I’ll get up right now and leave you at the mercy of Olive.”

  Just like that, his hand dropped away. I tried to ignore how sitting on his lap like this gave me tingles and endeavoured to finish my sandwich. Nothing tasted better than carbs after a run, but all I could concentrate on was Cal’s smell, his clean, musky sweat. My brain made the connection that this was what he smelled like after sex and I let out a weird, unintentional noise that I’d literally never made before in my life.

  “You okay?” Cal asked.

  “Just got a piece of bread stuck in my throat,” I lied, embarrassed.

  I felt his breath on my neck when he responded quietly, “You know I’d do anything for you, right?”

  My chest fluttered at his softly spoken words. There was some deeper meaning, but I refused to pick it apart. He was talking about sex, nothing more. “I don’t need anything from you.”

  “Yes, you do. You just won’t let yourself admit it.”

  “Callum,” I said firmly, using his full name as a warning. I was doing him a favour here and he was pushing his luck.

  Thankfully, or maybe not so thankfully, Olive interrupted us. She’d finally built up the courage to sidle her way over, taking the seat I’d previously occupied. “Hi, Callum,” she breathed dreamily before turning to Paul. “Hi, Paul.” He nodded at her, finishing up his phone call.

  It amused me when her attention finally came to me, her distaste clear in her unhappy expression. “Leanne.”

  “Olive,” I replied sweetly.

  “So, Callum, how have you been liking Joburg?” she asked.

  “I like it a lot. We’ve been having a good time here,” he answered evenly.

  I reached down to pinch his thigh. He was being way too stiff, and even if Olive was weird, he still needed to be nice to her. People watching our show was the only reason we had jobs. I would never be rude to a fan, not even Randall.

  He pinched me back, and I choked down a yelp.

  Olive’s gaze wandered to his neck. She completely ignored the fact I was sitting on his lap. “Is that a new tattoo?” She gestured to the intricate blue and black design beneath his jawline.

  She knew very well it wasn’t new. I was pretty sure she’d catalogued each and every bit of ink on his body. The only ones left out, being those only the women he’d slept with had seen.

  Cal’s hand went to his neck. “No, I’ve had this one a while.”

  “Well, it’s very sexy,” Olive said.

  My eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets. I felt Cal stiffen while Paul eyed me in amusement.

  “It is very sexy,” I agreed, deciding to torture him a little. “Though you should see the one on his left arse cheek. Now that, my friend, is a sight to behold.”

  If the way he gripped my thigh was anything to go by, Cal wanted to murder me right then, but he held his tongue. I thought Olive might get embarrassed, but no, she eyed Cal flirtatiously. “Well, maybe I will get to see it someday.”

  Seriously? I was sitting right on his lap, a very obvious display of “togetherness” and she was still flirting with him. Maybe Olive had a sixth sense and knew it was all pretend. Paul almost spat out the juice he just drank, and I swallowed tightly, trying not to laugh. I needed to stop looking at Paul. We had a shorthand of facial expressions and looking at him only made me want to laugh even more.

  Cal coughed loudly, and then the most awkward string of words came out of his mouth. “Eh…uh…that’s…okay.”

  “Olive,” one of the other girls called. “Come on. We have to get to the hotel to check in.”

  She didn’t look very happy about being interrupted but stood from the table all the same. “Maybe we could all get a drink together sometime this week,” she suggested.

  “Yeah, maybe,” Cal replied and then she left, looking pleased with herself.

  “You do realise she didn’t hear maybe, she heard definitely,” Paul said.

  “Christ,” Cal groaned as I slid off his lap and back into my own chair. He glanced at me somewhat mournfully, like he’d enjoyed having me there a little too much.

  “You’ll just have to do your best to avoid her,” Paul went on.

  “That’s kind of hard when she has a knack for showing up out of the blue. Also, how did she not see you sitting right on my lap?” he asked me.

  I shrugged. “Seems Olive fears no obstacles in her quest to get inside your tattooed pants.”

  He narrowed his gaze. “By the way, I don’t have any tats on my arse.”

  I grinned. “I know. Just thought it was a nice touch.”

  On the drive back to the house, I made sure to grab a seat next to Paul, as far away from Cal as I could get. Sitting on his lap got me all hot and bothered, and I needed some space to get my head back on straight.

  You can’t sleep with him. If you do, you’ll lose the bet. More importantly, you’ll lose your job.

  I reminded myself of these important facts as I settled into my seat. Paul put his earphones on, and I scrolled through the Instagram feed on my phone.

  Neil and Michaela managed the Running on Air social media accounts, posting daily pictures and videos of us. I also had my own personal Facebook and Instagram pages, which I had a bit of a love/hate relationship with. I liked keeping in touch with fans and posting pictures but being well-known meant you inevitably attracted trolls. I tried my best to ignore the negative comments, but in spite of this, they often wormed their way into my head.

  I plastered a smile on my face and snapped a selfie with Paul. When he saw I was taking a picture, he grinned.

  “Ugh, you’re so photogenic it makes me sick,” I said.

  “What?” he asked loudly over his music.

  “Nothing. Never mind.” I posted the selfie with a caption: On our way home. Can you see how exhausted we are?

  A bunch of likes immediately rolled in. I had over half a million followers on Instagram, though Cal
and Trev had more than a million each, mainly because they were favourites with our female fans. James, Isaac, and Paul had fewer, but they tended to post less. Hell, that’s probably because they weren’t lonely like I was. They didn’t need daily affirmation to dull the void inside.

  When we got back, I went straight to my room for a shower and change of clothes. An hour later, Michaela knocked on my door with some food so that I could eat alone. I could’ve hugged her.

  When I finished eating, I checked my phone and saw there were a bunch of comments under the selfie I’d posted earlier. There were lots of nice ones from fans of the show, but one stood out. It was from Cal.

  You’re beautiful. x

  My breath caught, and for a second my heart shimmered with warmth. But then I thought of the bet, and I knew the comment was designed to get under my skin. I couldn’t believe that it almost worked. I looked underneath and laughed out loud when I saw Paul had replied with, Thanks hon. You always know how to make a boy feel special.

  My humour was short-lived because someone else had left a comment: Ur a slut.

  I would’ve ignored it like I usually did, but then I saw Cal had replied: Fuck you. Leave another comment and see what happens.

  The troll responded immediately: Fuck u 2 manwhore.

  What was Cal thinking, engaging with trolls? I knew exactly what. He had a hot temper. His natural instinct was to act now and think later. Just like at the TV Choice Awards, he went in all guns blazing. Still, I wasn’t mad at him like I was then, because he was trying to defend me. His heart was in the right place. Or was he defending me so that I’d thank him, be grateful, let my guard down?

  Ugh! I wished I’d never agreed to this bet. Even winning wouldn’t make up for the amount of time I’d wasted internally agonising.

  I put my phone away, deciding I was definitely done with social media for the night. I snuggled into my pillow and almost drifted off when there was a gentle knock on my door.

  Must be Michaela.

  I called, “Come in,” then shot up in bed when Cal stepped inside. “What do you want?”

  Cal closed the door behind him. “I came to check on you. You weren’t at dinner.”

  “That doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with me,” I replied. “And by the way, what the hell did you think you were doing replying to that comment?”

  He at least had the grace to look chagrined as he ran a hand over his stubble. “Eh, that was a moment of weakness. It won’t happen again.”

  “See that it doesn’t. In fact, quit commenting on my posts altogether.”

  Cal scowled and I saw a chord in him snap. “Maybe if you’d quit posting pictures with Paul all the time, I could actually think straight.”

  I blinked at him. “Are you seriously bringing this up again? Paul’s my best friend. I thought you’d finally accepted that.”

  “He’s still a bloke.”

  “That means absolutely nothing, Cal.”

  His eyes blazed. “I’m your friend. You don’t post pictures with me.”

  “You’re not my friend. You’re my co-star.”

  “Fuck you. I’m your friend.”

  I got out of bed and stood toe-to-toe with him. “No, fuck you, and get out of my bedroom.”

  He glared at me, and I glared right back. We were locked in a stand-off for several moments before his face fell. He turned away, hands on his hips as he exhaled. “I’m sorry,” he said, and turned back to me, his eyes soft now. “I didn’t come in here to fight with you.”

  I huffed out a frustrated breath, while on the inside my heart raced. The old Cal rarely backed down during arguments, but more and more he seemed to be actively curtailing his temper. “What did you come in here for?”

  His gaze went from me to the bed.

  I laughed. “Think again because that’s not happening.”

  “Are you a mind reader now? I was actually going to say I’d like to talk. I miss talking to you.”

  Despite my best effort, his gentle tone made me relent. I caught a glimpse of that dark, haunted look in his eyes and knew he needed not to be alone right now. I knew because I often went through the same thing, though I normally had a bottle of wine for company.

  “Fine, but stay off my bed. You can sit on the armchair.” I got back into bed and pulled the covers over me while Cal sat where instructed. The chair was narrow and didn’t look very comfortable, but it was the most I was willing to offer. No way was he sitting in bed with me. That would definitely be asking for trouble.

  A few moments of quiet elapsed. Then Cal gestured to his ankle. “Michaela bandaged me up, in case you were wondering.”

  “I wasn’t, actually.”

  He gave a rumbly, affectionate laugh. “Are you jealous you didn’t get to do it?”

  “Not in the slightest. And besides, Michaela has zero interest in you.”

  “How do you know that?” He looked puzzled.

  “We’re girls. We talk.” I was lying. Michaela and I had never discussed Cal, but I wanted him to think there was at least one female out there who was immune to his charms.

  He eyed me, a sly grin emerging. “That means there’s someone she does like. Who is it?”

  I knew that look. I arched a brow. “As if I’d tell you.”

  Cal tapped a finger to his mouth. “Is it Paul?”

  “I told you, my lips are sealed.”

  He started to list names. “Trev? Neil? James? Fuck! It’s James, isn’t it?”

  I schooled my expression. “What makes you think that?”

  “You have a tell. You do this little blink. It’s cute.”

  “I don’t have a tell.”

  “Yes, you do. You just did it again. So, Michaela has a crush on James, eh? Diana would lose her shit if she found out.” Cal’s eyes glinted with mischief.

  I sighed and levelled him with a warning look. “Michaela didn’t actually say anything to me. It’s just something I noticed. It’s obviously an innocent crush. She’ll get over it.” I pointed my finger at him. “So, don’t you dare say anything to James. She’ll be mortified if he finds out.”

  “Who said I was going to tell him?”

  “I know you. You’re as bad as Trev with gossiping.”

  “How about we make a little exchange, then? I’ll give you my word I won’t tell James if you do something for me.”

  I eyed him sceptically. “Something as in…”

  “Come for a swim with me in the pool.”

  Ha! Did he think I was stupid? I played along just to torture him a little. “You know what? A swim sounds great, but I’ll do you one better. We should skinny-dip.”

  Cal blinked, his mouth opening for a second. “You want to…uh…”

  I barked a laugh. “Oh my God, you actually think I’m serious? I’m not going for a swim with you, Cal.”

  His face showed a hint of embarrassment, but he quickly recovered. “Then I’m afraid these gossiping lips will just have to go blabbing to all and sundry.”

  The seriousness in his eyes made me worry because I liked Michaela. I also felt somewhat protective of her since she was a few years younger than me. I narrowed my gaze at Cal. “Not a swim. Choose something else.” I remembered our first morning here, and the frustration of sharing the pool with him, how distracting his body could be.

  I saw the cogs in his head turning. “You know what? I’m drawing a blank.”

  “You’re a sadist.”

  “Oh, come on. One little swim in the pool. What harm can it do?”

  My temper flared. I was about to go off at him, but I reined it in. I thought of Michaela and how good a friend she’d become. I didn’t want her to go through the embarrassment and awkwardness of having to work for James with him knowing about her crush. She didn’t deserve that.

  My attention returned to Cal and steel formed in my belly. You know what? Screw him, I could do this. My body might’ve reacted to his, but my brain knew what was at stake. Besides, it was late. No one woul
d even know I swam with him because they were all in bed by now.

  Resolved, I stared Cal dead in the eye. “Fine. One swim. You say absolutely nothing to James. You don’t even fucking hint at it, you got me?”

  “Yeah, Leanne, I’ve got you.” His voice was seductively possessive.

  I could do this. It was just another challenge, and I loved challenges. Besides, it was a swim in the pool. All I needed to do was swim far away from him.

  Eight

  Leanne

  I followed Cal out to the swimming pool, relieved most of the lights were off in the house. A large Jacaranda tree obscured the view of the pool, so even if someone did happen to look out a window, they probably wouldn’t be able to see much.

  Not that there would be anything to see. It was just that, well, when you lived in a house with a small group of people, they gossiped, speculated, drew incorrect conclusions.

  Cal turned around when he reached the pool and pulled off his T-shirt. “You seem nervous.”

  My look was steely. “Nope.”

  “Not even a little bit?” His eyes danced in the moonlight, his expression playful.

  “Not even a little bit,” I lied. On the inside I was bricking it, but I couldn’t afford to show any weakness. If Cal caught so much as a flush or anxious wobble of my lip, he’d swoop in like a shark circling its prey.

  He held my gaze while he reached for the fly of his jeans. He bit his lip, and just like that, butterflies filled my stomach. He shoved his jeans to the ground. There was a beat, and I could practically hear his calculation when he turned around and dropped his boxers too.

  His confident posture said it all: Game, set, match.

  I immediately regretted teasing him about skinny-dipping.

  Cal stood naked in the dim light, and I squeezed my eyes shut. There he went again with his sly tactics. I was strong, but fuck, the sight of him standing in all his naked, tattooed, sculpted perfection was enough to break the world’s strongest woman. I caught a glimpse of tenderness in his eyes, and it brought back memories of how he used to look at me when we were together. Like I was a goddess. Like I was the only woman in the world he could ever want, body, mind, and spirit.