Sparks Like Ours

by Melissa Brayden

  A romance? She scoffed, then scoffed again to be sure the universe had noticed her scoff. How ridiculous. If anything, they’d done their best to achieve civility. Elle had to laugh. How in the world had two opposing articles hit the internet on the exact same afternoon, both making claims about her relationship with Gia Malone, of all people?

  She called Kip, if for no other reason than to figure out an approach to handle the attention that at this point could continue to grow, given the one-two punch.

  “Thought I’d be hearing from you,” he said, upon answering. They’d worked together for years and could skip the polite greetings.

  “So, what’s our plan?” Elle asked. “I gave her a ride home when her car wouldn’t start. Something with the ignition. That was it.”

  “I figured. Any clue who these sources are that put you together in a romantic sense?”

  “No idea. It’s crazy.”

  “It’s not that crazy. She’s gay, even if you’re not. You’ve not been linked to anyone romantically for more than one outing. They’re making a leap and hoping to hit pay dirt.”

  “Well, they haven’t. Trust me on that. Did you see SurfNuggets? They’re claiming the exact opposite. What is it they say? Any publicity is good publicity.”

  He paused. “That part is true. I think we don’t comment on the rumors. Any of them. At least for a little while. Let the world wonder and clock the attention.”

  She laughed. “Interesting angle. All right. We’ll try it your way. Gay is trendy, I guess.”

  He laughed because he was. “Don’t ever forget it.”

  “How’s Peter?”

  “Handsome and waiting for me to get off the phone.”

  She laughed. “Don’t let me keep you.”

  * * *

  A shiver shot through Elle as she ran a hand across the most magnificent naked body she’d ever seen. She relished the feel of heated skin beneath her fingertips. The curves that were on display to her. As their bodies came together, she began to move her hips. Oh, yes. This was good. Slowly at first and then with more purpose, doing everything in her power to draw out the pleasure she sought and losing the battle. She couldn’t help it. She rolled her hips faster now, furiously. She wanted it now, needed to be touched, to be filled, more than she’d ever needed anything. The delicious ache was all consuming. She bit her bottom lip and slipped her hands between their bodies, cupping two perfect breasts. She held on to them tightly as she was at long last filled, taken, owned. The orgasm ripped through her in an intense rush, leaving her limbless, breathless, and reveling in ecstasy. She reached for Gia, wanting to touch her one more time, needing to…but she was gone.

  A distant beeping infiltrated her thoughts. It grew louder with each passing second. She resisted, loving this wonderful place she’d found herself in but losing that battle. Elle blinked several times and stared at the ceiling, attempting to right herself. A dream. She understood that she’d been in the midst of a sexual and incredibly realistic dream. Her heart still hammered away as she glanced at her surroundings, anything to anchor herself in the present. Hyperaware of her body, her accelerated breathing, and the fact that she’d just come in her sleep, something she generally couldn’t even do during sex, Elle took a moment to savor the aftershocks that still took their turns with her. This had never happened to her before. Nothing even close to this. The details of the dream floated back to her, and it was then she understood exactly who she’d been dreaming about.

  No way.

  She’d just had a sex dream about a girl. A woman. Gia. And it had been good. They’d been in some sort of press conference, as usual, then a locker room, and somehow ended up in a hotel room together. Gia had kissed her in the hotel room, and she’d given back just as good, thrusting her tongue into Gia’s mouth. They’d touched each other until there were no clothes, or thoughts, or cares other than following their own desire and where it led them. It had led them to some pretty decadent places. Elle threw an arm over her head and marveled.

  Well, this was certainly an interesting twist.

  It was likely that the article from the night before had inspired the dream and all its salacious detail. That’s what happens when your mind runs away with itself. You get crazy dreams. She pushed her sated and boneless body out of bed, needing to shake herself awake and back into the here and now.

  Fifteen minutes later, after a quick protein shake, she was on the beach and on her way to five hundred sit-ups and a five-mile run with ankle weights. As she ran, her muscles screamed and her brain flashed on the details of that scandalous dream, examining them, curious as to why they’d had such a potent effect on her unconscious body. Why they still did.

  The waves jostled her free of further reflection, and she lost herself in the sun and ocean spray. Surfing always helped center her. In the shower, just before lunch, she ran the soap across her heated skin. This time, the touches came with new meaning, and she remembered the sensations of someone else’s hands on her body. Her stomach dipped, and she placed a hand on the shower wall for support. What in the world was all this about? It was just a damn dream. It had nothing to do with reality.

  An hour later, phone pressed to her ear with one shoulder as she assembled a turkey sandwich with tomato, she decided to bounce the whole thing off Holly. “Have you ever had a dream about a girl?” She popped a sliver of tomato into her mouth. The tomato was key. Without it, why even have a sandwich?

  “Um…all the time. The other night, you and I held up a mall dressed as Mr. and Mrs. Panda. It was epic.”

  “I’m not talking robberies. Or shopping excursions gone wrong. Or drinks with your girlfriends, who are friends.”

  “That’s a confusing sentence.”

  “What I’m asking,” Elle said, changing the phone to her left shoulder so she could slice her sandwich, “if you’ve ever had a dream dream, if you follow.”

  “Listen, I have about eight minutes left on my lunch hour and three tiny bites of chicken salad before Stan-the-teller comes to lean against my door and ask what time I get off and what perfume I’m wearing, so you’re going to have to be more specific, and fast.”

  Fine. She’d just put it out there. Say it really quick, like ripping off a Band-Aid. “Have you ever had a sex dream about a girl?”

  “Definitely.” A long pause. “Are you saying that happened to you?”

  So she wasn’t alone. These things happened. “Yes. I’ve just never had one of those before. No big deal.” Well, not anymore it wasn’t, now that she knew everyone had them.

  “Well, they are a big deal if they’re good. Was yours good?”

  Elle felt the blush that no one was around to see. She flipped around and faced her refrigerator for no real reason and then flipped back. “It wasn’t not good.”

  “Hey, I’ll take that. Not-bad sex dreams count.” Holly’s energy dropped noticeably. “Oh, hey, Stan.”

  Elle suppressed a smile. “Stan-the-Man is right on time. I’ll let you get back to work. Thanks for the help.”

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  “You were my sounding board.”

  “Then I’m brilliant.”

  Elle laughed. “Sure. We’ll go with brilliant. Bye to Stan.”

  “Don’t encourage him. Can we do a surf date this weekend?”

  Elle mentally scanned her calendar. “I’d love to. Let’s book it.”

  “Done. Hey, wait. Who was in the sex dream? You didn’t say. Was it me? It was, wasn’t it? You’ve always loved my hair.”

  “Sorry, Hol. Definitely wasn’t you. Bye.” She clicked off the call before she was pressed further. She preferred to keep the identity of her dream companion in the vault. She didn’t know why, but it mattered.

  Speaking of, she had an hour to be on her way to the Trainers shoot, this time for a short commercial spot that would air in a handful of markets in the coming weeks. She scanned the short script on her phone as she ate, realizing distantly that seeing Gia might feel…wei
rd, given the past twenty-four hours. She shook her shoulders as a pleasurable chill moved through her. She needed a plan. Walking in blind was a bad idea. Okay, she should certainly reference the news articles, at the very least in jest, just to get it out there. Keep it from being weird. And she should smile a lot. Be a laid-back, breezy person just enjoying an afternoon commercial shoot. The more personal details of her night, she’d keep to herself. She’d focus on the work and her job, and wait for time to wash away the memories of last night. Maybe after the shoot, she’d call Christopher and see if he was free for dinner.

  Status quo was firmly in place. Nothing to see here. Her plan was perfect. Airtight.

  What could possibly go wrong?

  * * *

  Gia sat in her small dressing room, waiting until they needed her on set and clutching the script Trainers had provided. She’d practiced her lines with Hadley at least a hundred times in preparation for the shooting of this commercial spot, knowing full well that Elle would walk in and nail it. She was not about to draw attention to herself as the surfer who could only surf. If she prepared enough, and she had, she’d get through the afternoon looking every bit the champ Elle was.

  “These photos of you and Elle are amazing,” Hadley had said the day before.

  They’d been rehearsing at Gia’s kitchen table when Hadley spotted the proofs from the recent photo shoot on the counter. When Gia had first scrolled through the ad agency’s favorite shots, she’d had the same reaction. They’d truly made the two of them look fantastic. Elle was obviously made for the camera, but the photographer had made Gia look great, too. Seeing the close-to-final results of the shoot had her feeling more confident in her role in this campaign, like maybe she’d emerge from this thing without looking like a fool, and wouldn’t that be a relief?

  “Yeah, they came out all right,” she said to Had. “I’m relieved.”

  “All right? No. Not all right. These are smokin’ hot.” She flashed one of the prints at Gia. “Look at the challenging smolder you guys have going on. The menacing grin, the slightly raised eyebrow you sport. They are going to sell so many chips off this thing. There will be a chip shortage. You think this country needs more jobs? Nope. Not after this ad. Everyone will be hired to make more chips. Speaking of,” she glanced around sadly, “I’m hungry.”

  Gia smiled and grabbed one of the fifteen bags of Trainers the company had had delivered to her. “Knock yourself out.”

  “Can’t. That photo already did the job.” Hadley fanned herself and fell back into her chair.

  A production assistant pulled Gia from the memory. “Ms. Malone, we’re ready for you on set.”

  She smiled and gave the college-age girl a nod. How official did that sound? On set. She followed the assistant to the small soundstage, where she found Elle smiling and laughing with Colleen, the director Gia had met earlier.

  “Is Timothy five now? He must be, what, in kindergarten?” Elle asked. Apparently, these two had worked together before.

  Colleen beamed. “You have a good memory.”

  “Like I could forget that adorable nugget.”

  “Hey,” Gia said, as she arrived next to Elle.

  “Hi, Gia.” Elle offered her a smile, but it was brief and didn’t come with the normal Elle Britton wattage. Odd. The production assistant handed Gia a bottle of water. She stole glances at Elle, who continued to chat with Colleen, as she drank it. The wardrobe department had them dressed in athletic wear for the commercial. Gia in running shorts and a hoodie, zipped halfway. Elle in running capris and a sleeveless spandex top that showed off her shoulders, which were…nice. A small number of freckles were visible beneath the tan. She didn’t have any on her face, just those shoulders, which piqued Gia’s interest. Why only there? The hair and makeup team had pulled Gia’s hair back into a ponytail. Most likely for contrast, they’d left Elle’s down and given it a soft curl that fell past her shoulders.

  “And what about you?” Colleen asked Gia, smiling.

  Oh, she hadn’t been listening. She’d been… “I’m sorry?”

  Colleen laughed. Loud, too. She had a great energy and seemed more than approachable. “Asking if you’re ready for a quick rehearsal before we start shooting. It should give you a chance to walk the space and learn your marks.” She pointed at the floor, where small pieces of colored tape had been applied. “You have three.”

  Ah, yes. She’d been told in an email from Mallory, the ad exec, that there would be marks and had mentally prepared herself to screw that the hell up. She and Elle exchanged the briefest of smiles. Things just felt back to weird between them. She shrugged it off and focused on Colleen. “A rehearsal would be great.”

  The walk-through was easy enough. The premise of the spot had Gia busting in on Elle watching footage of herself in competition, all the while eating Trainers from a bowl. Gia joins her on the couch, they engage in smack talk, and Gia eventually steals the chip bowl for herself. It was short, snappy, and mildly amusing depending on your standards. Apparently, the witty dialogue had been written by one of Mallory’s agency partners. It had a good rhythm.

  When the director called action, Gia was ready. The preparation with Hadley had truly helped, and she allowed herself to have fun with the lines, with her “character.” On the flip side, Elle seemed to struggle through the rehearsal, looking pensive and serious. Not at all her typical bubbly, vivacious self.

  After four failed takes, they went again. Gia entered the apartment, hit her mark, said her line, took her spot on the couch as she had been directed, and waited for Elle to nail her with the zinger from the script. But as their eyes locked, Elle faltered, attempted to play it off, and faltered again. She pulled her gaze from Gia’s and looked to Colleen for a lifeline.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, defeated. She ran a hand through her hair and let it cascade back onto her shoulder. “I don’t know why I’m off today, but it’s embarrassing.”

  Colleen waved her hand. “You’re doing great. Don’t give it another thought. Want to take a break or go again?”

  “Again.”

  Gia nodded and reset herself. They got a little further this time, but again, right in the middle of the shot, Elle shook her head and stopped them short.

  Was it wrong to relish the fact that she wasn’t the problem, because she fully expected to be? She couldn’t wait to tell Autumn, who was always fun to gloat with. But looking at Elle, her eyebrows drawn and the edges of her mouth downturned, she felt a slash of guilt for that kind of thinking. Clearly, the shoot was getting to Elle, and somehow, that was getting to Gia.

  “Maybe that break after all?” she asked Colleen weakly, ten minutes later when they’d yet to make much progress.

  “Of course. Let’s take fifteen, everyone,” Colleen called.

  Once the set cleared, with production folks scurrying off in a million different directions, Elle’s demeanor seemed to slip even further. Her guard was down and she looked…vulnerable, and lost. She didn’t move from the couch on set but remained very quiet, pulled into herself, staring hard at the ground. Gia decided to give her some space and walked a small distance away to the craft services table.

  Silence. The kind that didn’t feel good.

  “I don’t know if you’ve tried the hummus, but it’s killer,” Gia said, with way more enthusiasm than she felt. Elle didn’t answer. “As killer as hummus can be. Never really considered hummus to be the star of many meals. Or snacks. But this particular hummus takes the cake. Or carrot, as the case is.” Why was she attempting small talk with Elle? Not only that, but stupid small talk. Totally not necessary. Except that Gia felt this pull to get Elle through this, make her feel better. In a sense, they were partners on this whole campaign, and the teammate in her stepped forward. Plus, she’d always been a softie underneath all the competitive bravado, just not necessarily where Elle was concerned. Apparently, things were shifting as her heart now tugged. “Yep. A hummus for the ages.”

  She tossed a gla
nce behind her to Elle, who attempted a nod and smile at her ridiculous hummus analysis, but it wasn’t at all convincing. Gia dropped the carrot in the trash and headed back to the couch. She met Elle’s gaze and those luminous blue eyes. “Do you know what I do to get through this stuff? Not that I can believe that I’m offering you advice. This is more your area than mine any day of the week.”

  “Not my area today, apparently.” Elle looked back at her. “What do you do?”

  “I think about Ms. Pac-Man.”

  Elle scrunched her face up in confusion. Gia had to admit it was endearing. Cute, even, if it had been anyone else. “Not sure I’m following.”

  She laughed, playing it back in her head. “No, and why would you? Sorry. I happen to be a fan of the game and believe there’s more than one life lesson there.”

  Elle met her gaze. “Who knew Ms. Pac-Man was so wise?”

  “Very few people. Trust me. But she’s helped me.”

  Amusement rang apparent in Elle’s eyes. “Okay, tell me more.”

  “She has a lot going on, right? Pellets to eat, lives to store up and protect, ghosts to avoid or take down given the moment. But she can’t stop to think too much about it or she loses it all. She’s this bodiless creature with a hair bow, already at a disadvantage, just trying to make it in the world.”

  Elle nodded, as if trying to take apart what it was Gia was driving at. “So, you’re saying…”

  “Just eat pellets and avoid ghosts.” She nodded to affirm her words, because it really was that simple. “Don’t think about it.”

  Elle laughed. “Right. Got it. I think.” She shrugged and took a fortifying breath. “Not sure what’s going on with me. But I’ll try and stay out of my own head about it.”

  Gia pointed at her. “That’s probably the better way to put it.”

  “To each her own.” Their eyes held, and the sincerity that passed between them was not lost on Gia. She nodded and returned to the craft services table with an uptick in energy at their forward progress. “Hummus?”