Almost a Bride

by Jo Watson

  “You’re one hot bitch, Annie Anne.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  I’ve been called many things over the years, but “one hot bitch” certainly wasn’t one of them. What was I supposed to say to that? And I can’t deny I felt somewhat disappointed. I’d been holding out for something like stunning. I would even have taken pretty, but this? Should I be offended, or amused?

  “Okay, you’re not one of those feminists who are going to beat me for saying that and then burn your bra in protest, are you?” He put his hands up in front of his face in mock fear.

  “I might,” I quipped, deciding to go along with the joking tone of this whole thing. I was clearly reading way too much into what was going on, he was just joking. That was his way, this was all pretend.

  “Well, in that case I’ll get some matches.” He gave me a naughty wink. “But seriously, if you’re going to punch me, please don’t do it in the face. I’ve been told it’s one of my best features.”

  I smiled at him—I would have to agree.

  “That’s me fishing for a compliment, by the way,” he said, looking at me earnestly.

  “Oh…was that what it was? Well in that case, you’re very handsome.”

  “Not hot?”

  “Mmmm…maybe at the right angle.”

  “Ouch.” He grabbed his chest dramatically as if he’d been wounded.

  “Okay, fine…” I couldn’t hide the bashful tone in my voice. “You’re pretty hot.” I blushed. A proper bright red, warm flush. Without thinking, I touched my cheeks, which only drew attention to them.

  “It looks like I’m not the only one who’s hot.” Of course he would take this opportunity for another witty retort. And then his demeanor changed as his eyes sought mine out.

  “I’m being serious, though, Annie Anne.”

  “About what?”

  “You’re really great. And you’re way hotter than Tess.”

  At that I burst out laughing. But my laughter was very short lived. It came to a skidding stop when Chris reached over me and put a finger across my lips.

  “I’m being serious.”

  “You’re being serious?” I repeated like a drone.

  “Why wouldn’t I be?” He lowered his finger and for a moment he let it linger on my lips. They were officially on fire.

  We sat in silence, both of us, I think, unsure of how to proceed. I, for one, was also confused. I didn’t know when he was joking or being serious. When he was saying nice things because he was playing the role of perfect boyfriend, or when he was saying them because he meant them. This suddenly felt strange and awkward. One thing was certain, this game of pretend was really starting to get confusing, for me anyway.

  “So, the movie!” I said, trying to steer the conversation in another direction.

  “Yes.” Chris picked up the remote and started flicking through the channels, but it soon became obvious that all the movies were in French with English subtitles.

  “Gives us a chance to brush up on our French,” he said, settling into the couch. (Shoulders officially touching now!) The movie started, and I didn’t understand any of it. There seemed to be a lot of angst and tension between the two main characters—in black and white. Much intense staring and smoking of Gauloises cigarettes, and then the unthinkable happened.

  Before I knew it, she (effortlessly chic French woman with petite features and a pixie cut) was naked. He (smoldering French man with intense eyes) was aggressively pinning her to the wall. His pants came off, revealing a perfect bum, and he spread her legs and…

  They went for it. Like rabid dogs.

  It was frantic and sticky and hot and wild and went from the wall to the bed to the floor and back to the bed. It was one of the most hectic sex scenes I’d ever seen in a movie (bar Ocean’s 11 Inches of course). You actually saw penis! I sat dead still, unable to move. I didn’t want to look in Chris’s direction. I could feel his muscles tensing and body stiffening. Mine did, too. I was suddenly sitting bolt upright in the chair.

  Penis! Penis! Penis! It was all I could think about, it was all I could see, even when I flicked my eyes around the room, they were everywhere…can of soda, complimentary pencil, banana in fruit basket and, oh no, suddenly I was imagining what Chris’s penis looked like and wondering if he knew I was thinking about his penis…

  Oh God, stop! I bit down on my lip just in case the word came flying out, too…

  “So, Annie, what do you want to do next?”

  “Play with your penis!”

  No, not a good thing to say, so I folded my arms and kept my lips tightly sealed. And as it turned out, it was also the longest that had ever been shot in the history of cinema (not the penis, the sex scene). And the more it went on, the more turned on I was getting. I tried to fight it, but the combination of sitting next to Chris and watching two gorgeous people engaged in passionate sex was a deadly combination. Just when I thought I was going to die of total embarrassment, they stopped, whipped out cigarettes, and started smoking.

  Instant relief. I felt Chris’s shoulders relax and heard a loud sigh of relief. I think my sigh was audible, too. Was Chris feeling it, too?

  The scene was over but the buzz of sex surrounded us like a thick hot blanket. You could feel it in the air, moving between us. Weaving its way in and out and around. The air had been ignited with the promise of something unspoken. There seemed to be only one way out of this situation, and it involved our clothes on the floor.

  My mind had never whirled around so fast. It felt like someone had removed all my thoughts and thrown them into a blender and turned it on. I was dizzy from trying to sift through them. There wasn’t a single coherent thought I could grab onto, either, just fragments…

  Yes, he’s hot.

  No…don’t sleep with strangers, or pretend boyfriends.

  But so sexy…

  Yes…No!

  What if I suck in bed? And not in a good way.

  YES, no, YES, no—

  SHIT!

  It felt like we’d been sitting there for twenty minutes before my thoughts finally settled to a mild simmer. That is to say that there was only one thought rushing through my brain now. Flashing in neon red like one of those signs outside Adult Extravaganza.

  Sex. Sex. Sex.

  But I knew I couldn’t. He was basically a stranger after all. And what if I bored him? This moment needed to end, and I needed to be the one to do it.

  “Chris.” His name came out so loud and fast it was jarring.

  “Annie.” Shit, he was saying my name in a soft, sultry tone.

  “Chris!” I said it again, in hopes that he would pick up on the big red line that I was vocally drawing in the sand.

  “Annie.” His tone was slightly more normal now.

  I took a deep breath and started, “I just…” But the words were not coming. “I…I, it’s just that—”

  “I get it,” he said firmly.

  “You do?”

  “Totally.”

  He said it all with such authority that I wanted to believe him, but without actual verbal confirmation, we could be speaking about different things.

  “What are you talking about?” I asked him.

  He looked at me oddly. “Why? What are you talking about?”

  We looked at each other blankly.

  “Well?” I asked again, “What are you talking about?”

  “Same thing you’re talking about, Annie.”

  “But I haven’t said anything; how do you know what I was going to talk about?”

  He shot me an odd look again. “The thing that you were going to say, but then I said not to worry, because I know.”

  This conversation was going nowhere. We were skating around the subject like absolute idiots. I would have expected Chris to be more straightforward. He said everything else he thought, just not this. If he wasn’t going to say it, then I was going to have to be the one to do it.

  My mouth opened—

  “Sex!”

/>   Chris swallowed hard and his pupils dilated.

  “What about sex?” His tone was slightly hushed again. Screw that hushed tone!

  “We’re not having it.” I was firm.

  “Who said we’re having it?”

  What? Had I misinterpreted this entire situation? I was mortified.

  “I didn’t say we were having it.” I was backtracking and couldn’t hide the distinctly defensive tone in my voice.

  “No, definitely not,” he said again. By now my heart was sinking and the humiliation was rising fast. “We don’t have any cigarettes.”

  “What?”

  “Cigarettes. You can’t have sex without cigarettes to smoke afterward.”

  Thank God! He was throwing me a gift—a chance to turn this whole conversation into a joke. To toss it away with humor, which—in my opinion—was the best thing we could do now.

  “I agree. And certainly not without subtitles, either.”

  “Although…” Hang on, what was happening here? His voice was doing that strange lilting thing again. The soft inflections. The unmistakable huskiness of it. “I did see a vending machine that sells them in the lobby.”

  “What? Subtitles?” I couldn’t resist.

  “Of course. And I’m sure I can find a vending machine for cigarettes, too. And we can use the matches that we were going to burn your bra with.”

  “I’ve heard that smoking is bad for you,” I quipped.

  Chris leaned dangerously close to me. “Sometimes, Annie, the best things in life are.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  We were face-to-face now. Our eyes locked. I bit my bottom lip and Chris’s pupils dilated.

  “Like chocolate,” I offered.

  “Or coconut rum cocktails.”

  We smiled stupidly at each other. His eyes were brighter than I’d ever seen. His boyish charm was shining through, and a part of me wished that he would just take the reins and steer us in the direction that the not-so-subtle subtext was taking us.

  “Annie, can I kiss you? Only for rehearsal purposes of course.”

  “Rehearsal?”

  “Well, if we’re playing boyfriend/girlfriend, we should have at least kissed once.”

  “Just to practice,” I said, “I mean, it’s not like I find you attractive or anything like that. And this certainly isn’t just a ploy to manipulate you into kissing me.”

  “Of course not.”

  My eyes were moving down to his lips and noting that they were slightly parted.

  “Maybe just a peck on the lips?” Chris said. “I’m not suggesting we go full tongue. Unless you want to?”

  “No! Full tongue not necessary,” I said.

  “Agreed.” Chris held his hand out for me to shake. I did. But instead of letting go once the handshake was over, I clung onto it.

  “Okay, let’s do this.” I started leaning in. I tilted my head to the side ever so slightly and closed my eyes. I was really doing this. I moved closer until I could feel the warmth of his breath on my face.

  “No! Wait.” I pulled away. “You should know, I haven’t done this in a while.”

  “That’s okay.” Chris smiled as if I was amusing him terribly.

  “Okay. Let’s do it then.” I started leaning in again but then pulled away. “So I could be rusty.”

  “Okay.” Chris nodded again and this time he started leaning in. I closed my eyes and felt his breath again and then—

  “So please don’t judge me on this kiss or anything, because it probably won’t be that good, or maybe it will be okay, but—”

  “Annie!” He said my name so loudly that I did a double take. “Shut up, I want to kiss you.”

  Chris took my face between his hands and pulled it all the way up to his. Our lips were so close I could almost feel them. He looked me in the eye one last time before shutting his and bringing his lips to mine.

  They touched and for a second we hung in a state of suspended animation. No one moved, no one breathed. I wondered if our hearts were still beating. The moment was wonderfully exquisite and downright painful.

  And then his lips started moving. They were warm, and tasted of salt-and-vinegar chips and beer. It felt so good to be kissed again, and I moved closer to him until our bodies were touching; the effect was instant. My entire body felt like it was being kissed at once. And then after a few more blissful seconds, he stopped kissing me and let his lips linger on mine as if he was waiting for something. An invitation from me to go further?

  “Annie?” he asked, whispering against my mouth.

  But instead of going any further, I pulled away gently. The intensity of the kiss had left me feeling uneasy. It hadn’t been what I’d expected. I’d expected silly and awkward. Instead it was beautiful. And dangerous. A kiss like that can make a girl start thinking all kinds of things. “It’s getting late,” I said.

  Chris nodded. “I suppose it is.”

  “I should really go to bed.”

  “Good plan.”

  “Okay.” I stood up quickly.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to sleep downstairs?”

  I shook my head. “No. Like I said, I like the view.”

  I started walking away, but before I left the room I felt compelled to look back at him. And when I did, he was looking in my direction.

  “Thanks for a nice night, Annie Anne…”

  “Pleasure.” I walked up the stairs and left Chris in the room. A part of me regretted it, but another part of me—perhaps the bigger part—felt relieved. What had started as something seemingly innocent was changing. Chris was no longer the benign person I could practice on, because I was starting to like him. And Chris was the last person in the world a girl like me should start liking. He lived in LA and he didn’t believe in love. It would be a terrible idea to sleep with him because at this point my feelings had moved beyond pretend.

  Just as I was opening the door to my room, I heard that familiar rustle of palms. I’d almost forgotten about our unpleasant, sexually rabid neighbors. I turned and Trevv was looking at me suspiciously. He had actually stooped to full-blown spying now.

  “Have a disagreement, did you?”

  “What?”

  “Sleeping upstairs, are you?”

  He was firing questions at me in typical lawyer style, waiting for me to make a mistake. I needed to think quickly before our cover was blown.

  “No. No. Um…we’ve run out of dry towels downstairs. We were going to bathe, together, and I remember there were some up here.” I smiled at him. I hoped he was buying this.

  But I could see him eyeing me suspiciously, searching for evidence to prove Chris and I weren’t together. Why was it so important to Trevv anyway? Did he really want me to spend the rest of my life miserable and alone?

  I ran into the room quickly. God, I hoped there were towels here! I looked around frantically, pulling open drawers, throwing blankets off the bed, and looking in the bathroom.

  Nada.

  Not a towel in sight. The hotel had probably not put towels in the spare room since we were just a “couple” and had no kids staying in the other room.

  I walked out of the room and threw my hands in the air. “Well, what do you know? No towels.” I shrugged, hoping this little act of mine was working.

  “Here.” Suddenly Trevv’s head disappeared for a moment, and then his hand popped through the foliage, holding two towels. “You can borrow ours.”

  “No thanks,” I said as quickly as possible. The last thing I wanted was anything from Trevv, unless of course it was going to be that massive apology I was still waiting on. I would probably still be waiting on it after the world went postapocalyptic and ants colonized the earth.

  Trevv shook his head. “I insist, Anne. It’s the least we can do.”

  The least he can do? As if towels were meant to be some kind of consolation prize. Was this the apology I had been waiting for?

  Sorry I cheated on you and had kinky sex in our bed with a coworker and
you went to jail…here, have a lovely towel. It’s cotton, you know.

  And without any invitation, he tossed them over. They landed at my feet with a sickening splat. Trevv was glaring at me and I had no choice but to pick them up.

  “Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it.” He flashed me his snow-white smile, which seemed even whiter in the pale moonlight. “What are neighbors for, hey?” He winked.

  I tried to muster some kind of smile—at this stage a grimace would have sufficed. But internally I felt sick. The towels reminded me of the toothbrushes squashed into the same cup. Sure, the towels hadn’t been used yet, but all I could think about while holding them was their naked bodies rubbing up against the fabric.

  “If you need sugar, just let me know.” And with that, he was gone. The palms smacked together as his face disappeared. I knew I had no choice but to take the offensive towels and sleep downstairs, for fear that Trevv might investigate later.

  But going back down was the last thing I wanted to do. I inched my way down the stairs, trying to psych myself up for seeing Chris again. I was vaguely aware of the sound of running water, but by that stage was so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I didn’t quite register—

  Chris was in the shower. Stark naked.

  He was washing his hair with his back to me, and against all my better judgment—I stared. His back was broad and manly and the bum attached to it was, well, perfect. I was overcome by an urge to squeeze it. I could almost feel my nails digging into it. As he washed his hair and shifted his weight from one leg to another it would flex, accentuating those dimples on the sides. Mmmm…was I salivating?

  And then he turned. And because my eyes were focused on his bum, something else suddenly came into full view.

  It was staring me straight in the face.

  I couldn’t tear my eyes away, I was so shocked and fascinated at the same time. I’d almost forgotten that there was a whole body attached to it. It was all I could see. I’ve never really been a fan of the way they look. They’re not exactly the most pleasant-looking things. But his was…perfect.