“I’m sorry. Ugh. I have sex on my brain.” I hit myself in the head.
He clears his throat and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Should we turn it on? The TV I mean.”
“Yes, please. See if you can find a church channel.”
He laughs as he kicks off his shoes and flops down on the sofa.
“Do you want something to drink?” I ask.
“Sure, what do you have?”
I open the fridge. “I have water, a half-gallon of milk, Dr. Pepper, and oh, wine!”
“Dr. Pepper sounds great.”
I close the fridge and imagine myself slamming my head in the door repeatedly. Of course he doesn’t want wine, you twat. You just told him there’d be no re-enactments tonight. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”
“What did you say?”
Oh shit. I said that out loud. “Nothing. Just a second.”
“I couldn’t find mass for us to watch, but I did find CNN. That should be boring enough.”
Handing him the glass and the can, he places them on a coaster on my table. I sit down on the opposite side of the couch and he smiles at me. He crosses his ankles as he places them on the table and extends his arm along the back of the couch. His sleeves are still rolled to his elbow, and that, along with his arm being outstretched, makes his shirt even tighter in all the right places.
I scratch my head and blankly stare at the screen. After a minute, I pick a piece of lint off my shirt. This show is not doing a great job of distracting me. I notice the remote next to his foot. “Let’s see what else we can watch.”
The next few seconds seem to happen in slow motion in my mind. I reach out to grab the remote as he leans forward to grab his drink. My hand hits his hand, just as he picks up the glass. The glass wobbles in his grip before it slips, the brown liquid jumping out of the glass in response. The evil syrup stops mid-air to laugh at me and let me know it will make sure I’m mortified tonight one way or another. It purposefully wins Olympic records for farthest splash as it leaps onto the crotch of his jeans. He gasps as the cold liquid invades his private sanctuary. I see my aunt Rose’s face telling me to join the convent. I decide she was right.
And then time resumes its normal pace once again.
“Oh shit! I’m so sorry!” I run for the kitchen and quickly grab a dish towel.
He stands and I see the extent of my damage. I quickly take the towel and start dabbing the wet spot by his zipper.
“Um, why don’t you let me get that?” he asks.
I continue to dab the area. “I’m so sorry, I was reaching for the remote and I didn’t see you go for your drink.”
“Greer . . .”
I kneel down next to him as I focus on drying his pants. I flip the rag over to a dry spot and reach up to place my hand on his ass, so I can apply pressure. I don’t realize what I’m doing until I feel his jeans grow hard.
“Oh my God.” I look up to see his lips pressed in a firm line. He’s trying not to laugh.
And then I realize my hand is on his butt as I kneel next to his rock-hard dick. I immediately release him and hand him the towel as I stand. “Hi, my name is Greer. I’m an idiot. It’s nice to meet you.”
He laughs hardily as I sit down and hide my face in my hands.
“It’s fine. Really.”
“You’re soaking wet.”
“It’s not too bad, I think you, uh, got most of it. How do I look?” he asks, turning to face me.
I peek out through my fingers and gaze at the wet bulge in his pants. “You look like you peed yourself.”
“It’ll dry.”
His words give me an idea. “Take off your pants.”
“What?”
“Take them off. I’ll toss them in the dryer down the hall.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” I stand and hold my hand out to him.
He shrugs and starts to take off his belt. He’s halfway through the zipper when I realize I just asked him to get naked in my living room.
“Oh shit! Oh my God. Um, maybe you should go in the bathroom to do that.”
“I’m not shy.”
He tugs his jeans down his legs and I quickly turn my back to him.
“Here you go.”
I hold out my hand behind me and I feel the material touch my fingers, but I can’t grip it. I keep reaching for it, but I never get a hold of it. Looking over my shoulder briefly, I see he’s laughing.
“Dammit, Fisher. Just give me your pants.”
“Take them. I can’t help it you’re not reaching far enough.”
I try and fail once more before I’m forced to turn around. He’s standing in his boxers, package bulging. My eyes zero in on the bull’s-eye before I force them to the ceiling.
“Go get a towel out of the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”
Walking down the hall, I toss them in the dryer and laugh. I make my way back to him and think, only me.
He’s standing by the doorway when I enter the room. No towel. “Couldn’t you find one?”
“You know, if you wanted to get me naked, all you had to do is ask.”
I place my hands on my hips. “I didn’t do that on purpose.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I swear I didn’t!”
“Okay, I believe you.” He shrugs.
“No, you don’t. Fisher, I’m telling you, I did not get your pants wet just so you’d have to strip down.”
“I know.”
“I mean it!” I shout.
“I was just joking. I know it was an accident, but I had to tease you. It’s kind of ironic, don’t you think?”
And now I’m singing Alanis Morissette’s “Ironic”. His words hit home and I remember my story and how Kasey ends up wet, not Penn.
“Now where’s that towel?” he asks.
“I’ll get it. Just a second.”
I walk down the hall toward the bathroom, stopping at the door and glancing back in Fisher’s direction. He’s great. I like him. I really like everything about him. Reaching for a towel on the shelf, something flips in my mind.
As I walk into my bedroom I feel different. I turn on the light in the closet, making sure to cast only a small glow in the room. Can I do this? Yes. Yes, I can.
I remove my sweater and toss it on the bed. I unzip my boots and remove them along with my jeans. I stand in the middle of my room in my shirt and underwear. It’ll have to do.
I think about my rubbing the towel on his pants and how hard he became when I touched him. I sigh as I think about placing my hand inside his shorts on the beach. I focus on what it felt like to have his dick in my hands and watch his face as he came.
I drag my fingers over the material of my blouse and grab ahold of my breast, imagining his hands on me instead.
“Greer? Are you okay?”
I hear him call me and know it’s only a matter of time before he comes looking for me. His footsteps down the hall are all the confirmation I need. I prop my leg up on the bed and close my eyes. I’m already wet and I want to do this for him. I want him.
I can sense his presence in the room, so I go ahead with my plan. I touch my nipples through my shirt and slowly trail my fingers down my stomach until I reach the edge of my underwear. Knowing he’s watching turns me on more than I ever dreamed it would. I push my hand into my underwear and I hear him moan lightly. Rubbing gently, I turn slightly to make sure he can see that I’m touching myself.
Confidence runs through my veins. I open my eyes and look directly at him as I touch myself. His eyes are fixed on me and the bulge in his boxers has grown.
I slide my underwear down my legs and toss it in his direction. Then I sit on the bed and open my legs to him as I begin to rub all the right places.
He watches me intently for a few seconds and then unbuttons his shirt. Oh yes. Finally. I want to feel him inside me. He drops his shirt on the floor and takes one step toward me, when I hear the front door open and slam against the wall.
“Greer? Are you hurt? Where are you?”
I jump from my place on the bed and rush over to the bedroom door, closing it halfway.
“I’m fine, Luna! Don’t come back here!”
I struggle to put my underwear on as she flies around the corner and down the hall.
“You can’t send a text like that and then not answer your . . . Oh . . . Um . . . Hi, Fisher.”
A normal person might turn around when they saw their best friend pulling up their underwear, but not Luna. She walks farther into the room and stares at Fisher now sitting on my bed.
She nods to him. “Hey, what’s up?”
He points to his crotch and sighs.
I push Luna out the door as she says, “I can see that.”
“What are you doing here?” I whisper shout.
“You texted me that you needed me. That it was an emergency. I tried calling you six times on my way over here. I don’t even remember how I got here I was so worried. Be happy it was me who showed up and not the cops. I thought of calling them, or maybe Marcus. I was worried your alarm failed or something.”
“I don’t set the alarm anymore. There’s no point. And I didn’t think I sent that text. I was going to ask for advice, but then I changed my mind.”
She rocks her hips. “I guess you figured out what I’d say from the looks of it.”
“Can you please go? I really can’t take any more humiliation tonight.”
She mouths “Call me” as she walks backward to the door. Then she shakes her hands in the air and mouths, “So hot!” right before she closes it behind her.
Fisher walks out of the bedroom wearing his shirt and a towel. “Aww, did she have to rush off like that?” he asks sarcastically.
“I’m so sorry!”
“For what? This has been one of the best nights of my life and more than I could have ever imagined.”
Rubbing my forehead with the back of my hand, I realize I’m still in my underwear. I suddenly feel uncomfortable. What did I just do? He must sense my insecurity because he removes his towel and hands it to me.
“I bet my jeans are dry. I should probably get going.”
I nod. “Give me a second.”
As I pull on my jeans in my bedroom, I cringe. Another day in the life of Greer Hanson. How will I ever look him in the eye again?
I spent Sunday in bed hiding under the covers and willing Saturday to be a dream. Fisher texted that he was tied up all day with filming and would talk to me tomorrow, but what I heard him say was, last night was awful and I need a day away from you to decide if I can put up with you anymore.
If I were a GIF right now, I’d be the first picture you see when you type in pathetic. It’s Monday before 8:00 a.m. and I’m pouting my way into my office. All that’s missing from this image is my kicking a rock on the way there. How did things go from YAY to NAY so quickly?
I put my bag on the floor and unlock my office door. I beat Brenna to the office. That’s rare. I stand in the doorway and stare at my desk. I don’t want to be here, but I don’t want to be home either. This is going to be the longest Monday in history. Man, my life has changed over the last year.
I drop my bag on the floor and roll out my desk chair so I can sit in it. I wait for my laptop to whirr to life and run my fingers through my hair. I just washed and brushed it before I left, yet there’s a huge tangle. How in the hell does that happen? It’s as if my individual hairs decided to hug each other on the way here. They must feel as bad as I do.
I click on my emails and see one from the production company. It’s titled “First round script.”
Holy crap. It’s done!
I hear Brenna talking to Luna in the hall outside my door. I’ve been completely preoccupied with reading ever since I got the email.
“She was here before I was. I don’t know. She hasn’t said much. She looks like she hasn’t slept.”
I shout. “I can hear you!” as I make a comment next to a line I think could be better.
“Hey,” Luna says as she walks in my office. “Are you writing?”
“Do I know something before you for once?”
“What?”
“The script is here.”
“What?” She bolts alongside me and bends down to read the page I’m on. “How is it?”
I teeter my head back and forth. “All things considered, not bad. Not bad at all.”
“Did they send me a copy?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t check.”
“Okay, I’m on it.” She rushes for the door and stops mid-way, spinning on her heel. “So . . . how did things go after I left Saturday night?”
I frown and lift my eyes in her direction briefly before refocusing them on the script.
“That bad?”
“He couldn’t leave fast enough. I think he’s done with me.”
“No . . . no way! He doesn’t strike me as a guy who gives up easily.”
“Yeah, well, maybe he didn’t like what he saw.” I shrug.
“What did he say?” she asks, stepping toward me.
“Nothing really. I haven’t talked to him. He said he was busy yesterday and has basically dropped off the face of the Earth.”
“Did you text him?”
“And say what? Was my pussy not to your liking? Sorry my best friend showed up and mentioned how big your dick looked in your boxers.”
She cringes. “Sorry about that. I was surprised.”
“It’s not your fault. I’m the one with slippery fingers. I honestly didn’t think I sent that text. Maybe the phone company hates me too.”
“Oh stop. Don’t be a Debbie Downer.”
“Maybe that’ll be the title of my next book. I’ll write a story about a pessimistic girl who sees negative everywhere she turns.”
“Sounds like a real winner. You need to put positive vibes into the universe. If Fisher said he was busy, then he was probably just busy.”
“Yep. I’m sure making out in front of camera is hard work. I put the emphasis on hard there. I don’t know if you noticed.”
“Yeah, I noticed. Do you want me to call him and apologize? See what he has to say?”
“God, no. Let him be. I have work to do. I don’t have time for a relationship anyway.”
“Think positive. I bet you’ll hear from him soon.”
I shrug. “I’m going to keep reading, okay?”
She nods then walks to the door. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her shoot me a pity pout. I refuse to acknowledge it. I don’t care what anyone thinks. I have a job to do and that’s what I’m going to focus on.
I’ve had a range of emotions today. I’m starting to think I have multiple personalities. One minute I feel confident and purposeful. The next, there are tears in my eyes and I want to crawl under my desk and rock myself. Being a water sign sucks. I hate that I care too much. Overthinking everything sucks even more. Why can’t I be one of those people who doesn’t give a shit?
After three hours of staring at my phone, I finally turned it off and put it in my purse in my drawer. Even if he texted me, I wouldn’t see it. It gives me a sense of power to be too busy for him. But I keep finding reasons to open the drawer.
Is it dry in here? Gum would really do the trick. Did I bring my wallet to work? I’d better check. Dumbass. Is he that busy he can’t even say good morning? People are only too busy for the things they don’t care about. If he cared, he’d find a second to let me know. Men suck. All of them. They toy with our emotions, pulling us in just to push us away. Well, I’m done playing games. I’m too old for this shit.
Yanking the drawer open, I reach for my phone and plot the nasty text I’m going to send him. I turn it on and see I’ve missed five texts from him. Grinning from ear to ear as I read them, I realize what a complete basket case I’ve become. I was pissed and here the sweetie has been texting all along.
FISHER: Hey, babe. Sorry I couldn’t talk last night.
We did fifteen takes on on
e scene. It was ridiculous.
I hope you had a good day.
Do you have any plans tomorrow night?
Call me when you get a chance.
Aww . . . he does care. I shake my head at myself and feel bad for hating on him. He didn’t do anything other than work his ass off all day. I dial his number and spin in my chair to gaze out the window as it rings.
“Hi. How are you?” he asks.
“Good. How are you?”
“Tired. I didn’t get home until two a.m. I’m sorry I didn’t call.”
“No biggie,” I lie. “I knew you said you’d be busy.”
“So you weren’t worried?”
I pause. I could say no here. I could act like I have all the confidence in the world. Guys like confidence. Or, I could tell him I’ve been slamming drawers all day because I’m a mess. Hmm . . . decisions.
“You were worried. I can tell.”
I shrug and then remember he can’t see me on the phone. “Maybe a little. I figured you were upset with me for Saturday night.”
“Ugh. Of course not. Why in the world would I be?”
“Because . . . Luna and . . . well . . . me.”
“You? You mean you and your gorgeous body? I have spanking material for life.”
I giggle and cover my mouth with my hand. “What are you doing right now?” I stammer and feel the need to clarify. “What I mean is are you getting ready for work or chilling? I didn’t mean spanking the monkey.”
He laughs. “I’m going to jump in the shower and head back to the set. But hey, are you free tomorrow night? They’re having a little cast party, so our families can visit the set and see what we do. I’d love it if you’d come.”
“Really? Wouldn’t you rather have your mom or your brother?”
“They’re all the way in Ohio. They’d never make it. But I would be honored if you’d come. Will you?”
How can I say no to him? “Sure. I’d love to.”
“I’ll text you the address. It starts at four, but you can come any time after if you’re working.”
“I think I’ll skip out early.”
“Great. Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll try to text or call later, but there’s a no phone rule while we’re filming. The bigger stars break it all the time, but I can’t risk being labeled. I can try to get to it on break, but those breaks are few and far between. I hope you understand.”
Book Boyfriend Page 10