by M. E. Carter
“That’ll help you stay warm.”
“Bu . . . but you’ll be cold.”
“Nah, Aggi. I’ll be just fine. You ready for the night of your life?” Smiling, she nods, and I hold out my hand to her. Hesitating only briefly, she looks from my extended hand to my eyes and back down before placing her small palm atop of mine and following me through the crowd to the area marked “VIP”.
•••
When Slade told me about the VIP area and offered me passes, I blew him off telling him neither Aggi, or Adi as I referred to her, or I were interested in crowds or having to be “on” for any fans we encountered. He insisted the club area was chill and so full of celebrities and athletes that nobody would bother us. He was right. So far, nobody has noticed either of us, and we’ve sort of blended in with the crowd.
Well with the exception of Aggi stopping us when she ran into a Hemsworth and muttering a string of curse words and praises at the man. Thank goodness he’s a skateboarding fan and was too busy fangirling over me to register her gushing about her love of Hannah Montana.
Other than that, it’s been pretty tame here in the club.
I convinced her to take a shot with me to commemorate the occasion and now as I stand here holding our beers, I watch her as she snaps photos of the snowboarding event below. She’s in her element, a small smirk permanently affixed to her lips. I feel the effects of the shot warming me and realize if I don’t get some food in my system soon the liquor we’re consuming will do more than warm me.
Nudging Aggi with my knee, I lean down and whisper in her ear, “Wanna get some food? I’m starving, and I saw a slider bar.”
Aggi spins on her heel, eyes wide and dancing in the lights, with a huge grin on her face. “Spencer, this place is amazing. I cannot believe we’re here. Todd is going to die a thousand deaths when I tell him. It’s going to be amazing!”
Todd. I don’t care what she says, no way that guy only wants to be friends with her. Aggi is too dynamic for him to never have noticed her appeal.
“Death. Sounds fine by me,” I growl but she can’t hear me over the cheers from below. Lifting her camera again, she snaps a few more shots before turning her attention back to me, taking the bottle of beer from my hand and lifting it to her lips.
“Did you mention food? I’m starving. Let’s eat!” This time instead of leading Aggi through the crowd, she grabs my hand and tugs me toward the other side of the room where various stations are set up with food. We quickly make our way through the lines and fill our plates with various items from sliders to sushi to brownies before finding a small booth in the corner. The booth is barely big enough for us to sit in and with my long legs, I have to sit close to Aggi, but she’s so involved with her food she doesn’t notice. I do though.
After we’ve eaten what is probably close to our own weight in food and thrown down a few more beers, we sit back in our seats a little and people watch a bit. You can tell the tickets for this club are expensive by the people walking around. There are more diamonds and furs in this space than I’ve ever seen in all my years living in California. Money drips from these people. Something I’m not used to.
“This is how I get some of my greatest plot points,” Aggi says, breaking the silence.
“How’s that?” I ask, taking a pull from my beer.
“People watching. It’s fascinating. It helps to be the type of person that fades into the background. You can watch and observe without being noticed. You’d be surprised at some of the things I’ve seen and heard.”
Interested, I signal to the cocktail waitress for two more beers and turn more to face Aggi, my arm resting on the back of the booth. “Yeah? Hit me with something.”
“Well, there was one time I was sitting in the park watching people fly kites while I ate my lunch. I’d laid a blanket on the grass and was on my back, eyes closed, plotting out a book when someone sat on the bench nearby. At first, I ignored them but when I heard them say something about teddy bears, you could say my interest was piqued.”
“Teddy bears?”
Nodding, she thanks the waitress and takes a long pull from her fresh beer before continuing. “Yeah. I didn’t think much of it at first but then I realized it wasn’t an actual teddy bear they were talking about. It was dressing up as a teddy bear. They were furries.”
Confused, I have to ask. “Uh, what the hell is a furry?”
“In a nutshell, people who enjoy role-playing furry animals.”
“No shit!”
“Nope,” she says, popping the “p.” “Sometimes they’re fans of a particular television or video game character. Sometimes they create their own character to identify with. It’s gaining speed as a fandom.”
Shaking my head, I say “Okay that’s random. What else ya got?”
She thinks for a second before giving me another. “I’ve watched men meet with their mistresses after hanging up the phones with their wives or women tearing tags off clothes and stuffing the new items in the bottom of their large bags. And, of course, there are the couples who obviously want to experiment and attempt to have sex in public.”
“So you’re a voyeur.”
Her eyes widen. “What!? Ohmygod no! I don’t watch, Spencer. I just see what I see.”
“I’m kidding, relax. You ready to watch a little more of the boarding?”
Standing from the booth and taking her hand, this time without offering, I lace our fingers together before walking to the edge of the viewing area. Putting her in front of me, I don’t hesitate to step up behind her and place my hands on either side of hers, resting them on the railing. My body is close and I feel her stiffen a little. I lean down again and whisper in her ear, “Relax, Aggi. Watch.”
Later when the concert starts, I’m still standing behind Aggi but now my hands are on her hips as she leans into my chest and sways her hips. She’s not trying to be seductive or even sexual, but I can’t help the way her movements affect me. We both stopped drinking a while ago and switched to water, so we can’t blame our closeness on being buzzed or unaware. Flashbacks of dances in my teenage years come to mind and I laugh a little. That’s what this is like. Being around Aggi reminds me of being fifteen-year-old me with a huge crush on the pretty girl. Unsure of what to do or how to behave, I can only rely on instinct, small touches and hand holding that I hope tell her I’m interested but don’t scare her away. I have a feeling I need to take it slow and steady with Agnes Sylvester. It’s going to be hard but the slow-burn between us will be so worth it.
Chapter 17
Aggi
Next Stop: Austin
Home of the Summer X Games, circa 2014 – 2016
A shift seemed to happen after our time at the Winter X Games and another successful signing. It’s as if my entire body started to relax around Spencer. Not completely of course. There is probably never going to be a time I don’t feel some sort of nerves around him or trip over my own feet.
But the intense anxiety, or maybe just his ability to “dazzle” me faded. Spencer stopped being my muse and started being himself. And as it turns out, the reality of him is better than any fantasy I could have dreamed up.
Spencer Garrison, the muse, is kind, athletic, hot and really good in bed.
Spencer Garrison, the man, is funny, chivalrous, protective. He’s a good listener. He’s an interesting talker. He’s community oriented and an activist in his own way. Plus he’s everything my muse is—kind, athletic, hot . . . and I assume he’s still really good in bed.
I wouldn’t know for sure, but let’s face it. Even if he lasts as long as a sixteen-year-old boy on prom night, it would still seem amazing to me. Just holding my hand makes me break out in goosebumps up and down my arm.
I haven’t stopped having goosebumps since that night at the games. Because Spencer, my handsome, rugged hero, loves to hold hands. In fact, he hasn’t let go all day. He held my hand through the Denver airport, which is a very big airport. He held my hand when I fell asleep o
n him during our flight and ended up using his shoulder as a pillow.
Even the drool spot I left on his shirt didn’t gross him out enough to unclasp his fingers from mine. It’s all so . . . unexpected. Maybe even a realization that the version of him I had created is only slightly different than the reality. In my mind, Spencer Garrison was a lot of things, but a man who likes a little PDA wasn’t one of them. I’m not complaining, just a little surprised is all.
Although, there haven’t been any more kissing moments since his random, and out of this world, attempt to calm me in Minneapolis but it’s as if we don’t need them. We’re taking our time with simple and small gestures and that works for me.
As we make our way through the airport, my hand in his, I envision to the outside world we look like one of those celebrities you see walking through LAX with the paparazzi taking pictures. Except we’re at the Austin airport.
And there are no paps.
Or really any other similarity except that I’m holding hands with a hot guy. But that’s not the point.
The point is, I feel like we’re developing a real relationship and that both scares the ever-loving shit out of me and makes me more excited than I should be.
And yet, I’m a little sad we’re about to pick up our luggage. Once we each have two bags, we won’t have any hands free to stay connected. Total first-world problems, I know.
“So this is home, huh?” I ask as we wait for the baggage drop to begin.
“One of them.”
“You have more than one home?”
He chuckles. “I just built a house here. I want to make a permanent move back eventually. It’s been so long since I’ve called it home, I guess I’m technically still a Californian.”
“Move back? You lived here before?”
This is news to me. I’ve followed Spencer for a long time, so I knew he was based in California, but never realized he had ties in Texas. My stalker abilities appear to have failed me.
“I was actually born here,” he explains. “We lived in Lexington, where my house is now, until my parents got divorced. My mom and I moved but Dad was still in Lexington. Until I signed my first professional contract, I spent my summers here. There aren’t really many places for training in the middle of nowhere Texas so visits sort of faded away.”
I ignore the sadness in his voice at the loss of time with his dad, and instead concentrate on the part that is guaranteed to make him happy. “Weren’t there places to train in Austin?”
“I’m sure I could have found somewhere. But with my dad working full time, it’s quite a drive from our tiny town to get into the big city. You’ll see.”
“Wait. Are we going there tonight?”
“You didn’t see the email?”
“What email?”
He laughs. It’s that low rumbly sound that makes my stomach flutter but suddenly doesn’t make me want to run and hide anymore. “You really need to get a smart phone, so you can keep up.” I purse my lips at him making him laugh again. “San Francisco and Austin both got pushed back by a couple days, so we have some downtime.”
“Oh.” I try and fail to keep the disappointment off my face. “I guess I should fly home then.”
A blush creeps from his neck up to his ears. “I, uh, I figured my house is close enough that we might as well get some use out of it.”
My eyebrows shoot up. Holding hands is one thing. But we’re going to Spencer Garrison’s house?
His house.
Where his personal space is.
His bed. His bath towels. His underwear drawer . . .
Snap out of it, Aggi!
This shouldn’t be a big deal. We’ve been sleeping in rooms next door to each other for two weeks now plus, we just shared a condo in Aspen. But suddenly my nerves are back full force. That was before. Before hand holding. Before lingering hugs and looks.
“Uh, that’s okay, right?”
“Yeah! Yeah, it’s fine,” I say a little too quickly as I come back to my senses. “I mean, are you sure you want me there?”
“Yes,” he almost yells, causing my head to snap back. “Sorry. What I mean to say is its really quiet and peaceful. It would be a great place for you to get some work done without outside distractions. Plus the guest bath has a huge garden tub to relax in. I know you’re still kind of stressed about this deadline and a slower pace might do you some good. But only if you want to,” he seemingly tacks on as an afterthought.
I nod my head a little too vigorously, my excitement mixing with nerves. “It’s great. Thank you. And I guess this is how our publicists are able to spring for first class tickets, huh? Canceling a few days of hotel rooms?”
He gets a strange look on his face, but I dismiss it, mostly because I know myself well enough that because of my nerves I’m probably misinterpreting a lot right now.
“Oh! That’s us!” Spencer jogs over to the carousel where magically both bags have dropped at the same time. Seriously. Does that man always rub good luck on me at the airport?
I try not to think about the loss of warmth from our hand holding as we drag our bags out the doors and through the parking garage. Actually, I don’t have to try for long considering how quickly our bodies warm up once the humidity hits us.
“Ew. Isn’t it still January here too?”
I could really get used to the sound of the chuckle that comes out of him. “Welcome to winter in Central Texas. It snows once every seven to ten years and might stick for an hour or two. But if you’re lucky, you might be able to break out a thin jacket at least a couple of times before summer comes back again.”
“You mean spring?”
“No, I mean summer. There is no other season here except summer. Unless Christmas counts as a season.”
We climb in his black four-door pickup. I hadn’t expected Spencer to drive such a huge monstrosity of a vehicle but somehow, it fits this part of him. The inside is plush and has all the bells and whistles I’d expect for someone of his wealth, but it’s not much different than my rinky-dink car when you break it down. The large screen in the middle of the dashboard intimidates me just like the one in my little compact, only Spencer doesn’t even look at it as he backs out of the parking space like I do. I need that little screen to help me maneuver in and out of tight spaces, and the little chime when I’m too close to an object is more than welcome in my car. He doesn’t need it though. Instead, he turns slightly in his seat and whips his beast right out of the space like it’s nothing. Show off. Pulling up to the kiosk, he pays the exorbitant parking fees and we hit the road. As we drive, I keep looking out my window, hoping to spot downtown Austin because I hear it’s a beautiful sight, but I never find it.
“I thought Austin was going to look more like a city.”
He furrows his eyes as he looks over at me, then jets his eyes straight back to the road. “What do you mean?”
“There’s just a lot of open land. I wasn’t expecting that.”
“Oh. Well, we’re going around Austin to get to Lexington.”
“We are?” I try to keep the disappointment out of my voice, but I know there’s still a tinge of it bleeding through.
“We’ll see it when we come back for the signing. The airport is south of town so it’s faster to not go through the actual city proper. Whoever created the upper/lower deck was an idiot. I don’t how they thought it was going to help keep traffic moving.”
“Upper/lower deck?”
“Never mind. I figure we can come in early the day of the signing and do some sight-seeing then.”
“Can we go to the Capitol?” I ask. “I really want to work on some lighting and camera angles. The pictures I’ve seen of the building are beautiful.”
Even thinking about the architecture makes me giddy.
“Capitol it is. I’ll even show you the spot where no secrets can ever be kept.”
“What?”
“You’ll see.” I swear there’s a gleam in his eye, like it’s another surprise h
e’s keeping hidden until the exact right moment.
I relax in my seat as we drive, enjoying the hum of the engine and the quiet calm Spencer exudes. And, of course, those goosebumps come back when he reaches for my hand.
Just as I feel myself zone out and maybe even start to doze off a bit, a sign catches my eye. Sitting straight up, I point at it.
“Wait, that’s Flinton?”
“Huh?” Spencer doesn’t even bother to try and hide his confusion.
“We’re in Flinton, Texas.”
“We’re driving by Flinton, Texas, but we’re not in it.”
“Oh my gosh. My editor lives in Flinton.”
“Really? How random is that. That’s only about thirty miles from where my house is.”
“Wow. You guys are neighbors and didn’t even know it.” Realization makes my stomach plummet. “That also means I have to make a phone call. Do you mind?”
He shakes his head. “Not at all. Like I said, we’ve got about thirty miles to go.”
Grabbing my phone out of my crossbody purse, I flip it open and dial, steeling myself for the tongue-lashing I’m about to get.
“If you hear me throw up just give me a second to finish.”
My laugh comes out as a snort and I try to ignore Spencer’s resulting grin. Instead I focus on my poor editor, who has just given me a gigantic dose of birth control.
“That’s good, though, right? It means the baby is growing?”
“Growing. Thriving. Sucking the life out of me until there’s nothing left except the hollow shell of a middle-aged woman. However you want to look at it.”
I snigger. “My dear Greer. It appears you have taken over my role as the theatrical one in this relationship.”
“A little role reversal has never hurt anyone. Do you have my chapters yet?”
I grimace. I should have expected that. Greer has always been sharp as a tack and focused. It appears pregnancy makes her more, well, we’ll call it assertive as well.