Release the Stars

by Harper Bliss

  “Fuck, I’m crazy about you, Charlie.” Ava stared into her eyes. She delved deep inside Charlie’s pussy, stealing her breath and her last rational thought. “I don’t know what you’ve done to me.” Ava thrust just that much faster, and Charlie started to fall apart. More because of Ava’s words than the increased pace. Ava was crazy about her? Everything smelled like soap and her field of vision narrowed until all she could see was Ava. Charlie ached as though someone had lit a fire in her belly, and her orgasm swept through her in one big gulf of pleasure, seizing all her muscles.

  “Oh fuck,” Charlie groaned. “I’m crazy about you too.” She dropped her head onto Ava’s shoulders and showered her in kisses. Ava’s fingers were still inside of her, and although they had done their job expertly, Charlie wanted them to remain inside of her forever—she wanted a piece of Ava with her for when they had to part again.

  Then Ava eased her fingers out of Charlie’s pussy with soft tenderness.

  “I think you might be dirty again,” she said. “I may need to wash you all over again.”

  They both burst out in a silly bout of laughter, and Charlie was sure that what she’d said in the throes of passion was the absolute truth.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The telephone rang at six in the morning and was a rude awakening for both of them. But all it took for Charlie was one quick glimpse at Ava, and her mood turned from sleep-deprived cranky to utterly blissful.

  “Do you want to come? I can send a car for you later? Either way, it might be boring for you. Loads of waiting.”

  “I can think of something to make the waiting go by faster.” Charlie sat up and fixed her gaze on the box she’d brought all the way from LA.

  Ava grinned, but shook her head. “No, Charlie. Not when I’m working. Makeup will have a fit if I come back from my trailer with a just-fucked look.”

  “Okay. I wouldn’t want you to be worried about your hair the first time we fuck like that.”

  “Thank you for respecting my means of employment.” Ava draped an arm over Charlie’s belly.

  “Ready for your shower?” Charlie dug her fingertips into Ava’s arm.

  “Stop, before you make me too horny again.” Ava swatted Charlie’s hand away. “I really have to get going. Wash your pussy scent off me.” Ava giggled, and Charlie giggled with her.

  Ava slipped from the bed and walked into the bathroom totally naked. She was barely awake, but a fresh round of thumping had already ignited in Charlie’s clit. She felt it in her stomach, too, as an endless dance of butterflies. Content, Charlie sagged back into the pillows. She was tempted to close her eyes again and catch up on some much-needed sleep, but she’d come here to spend time with Ava, so that was what she would do.

  * * *

  Ava had been right. The set of Knives Out quickly became a snooze fest for Charlie, what with the many retakes and countless times Ava’s makeup was being reapplied.

  Charlie decided there wasn’t much glamour to be found in reality television. Eric wasn’t due on set that morning, something Charlie first viewed as lucky, but then, as her boredom grew, it annoyed her. It made her think too much about the other reason why she had flown to Dallas. Yes, she wanted to spend time with Ava, but she also wanted to see Ava interact with Eric. That was hard to do when he wasn’t around.

  “You should go back to the hotel,” Ava said during a break. “Get some sleep. I’ll meet you there as soon as I can.”

  Charlie looked around. If she hadn’t just spent the past few weeks on the set of Underground, perhaps staying would have held some appeal. As it was, seeing Ava repeat the same lines of text over and over again was fun the first ten minutes, but the novelty quickly wore off. Charlie also suspected she might be throwing Ava off her game somewhat. When she was introducing a cooking challenge to the contestants earlier, the director had sighed with exasperation, and Ava had sent him an apologetic smirk.

  “I think I just might.” Charlie looked at Ava. Up close, only her eyes looked tired—the makeup people had done an expert job at hiding any other remnants of the near sleepless night they’d just had. “I’ll let you sleep tonight, I promise.” She smiled encouragingly at Ava.

  “We’ll see about that.”

  * * *

  On the way back to the hotel, Charlie concluded that, from this set visit, she’d gained a newfound respect for reality television show hosts. The car pulled up to the entrance of the hotel and Charlie’s legs felt weary when she got out.

  “Charlie Cross,” a male voice said as Charlie entered the lobby. A male voice that made her cringe. Charlie turned around and looked into Eric’s wrinkled face. If only Ava could have traded schedules with him—but she was the host and her presence on the Knives Out set was much more required than the head judge’s.

  “Eric.” Charlie tried a polite nod of the head.

  “I believe I owe you an apology,” he said. “Can I buy you a drink?”

  Charlie sighed inwardly. She just wanted to go to sleep. She didn’t want to spend time with Eric, but she sympathized with him on some level, and he did say the word “apology.” It would be rude to refuse. “Sure.” She tried to inject some lightness into her tone.

  “Awesome. I know just the place.” He flashed a smile. “By that, I mean the hotel bar isn’t horrible.”

  They walked to the elevator bank and Eric pushed the button for the top floor. Once they were seated at the bar, Charlie ordered a margarita and, upon hearing her order, Eric asked for the same.

  “Screw those who think a margarita is a girlie drink. It’s no such thing. Right, Charlie?”

  “Right.” Charlie wondered when he would launch into that apology.

  Eric turned on his stool to face her better, and the two of them sitting at the bar like that reminded Charlie of the last time she’d seen him. Eric fixed her with a strange stare. His eyes were watery, and his skin was a bit puffy. “I know I acted like a grade-A asshole that Sunday. Will you accept my apology?”

  Which apology? Just then, the barkeep deposited two huge margaritas—certainly too large for the middle of the afternoon—in front of them.

  “Ah, right in time for a toast,” Eric said. He picked up his glass and held it out to Charlie.

  Charlie was nowhere near ready to forgive him, but she clinked her cocktail glass against his anyway.

  “I’m an all right dude, Charlie,” he said after touching his glass to hers briefly.

  “I’m sure you are,” Charlie replied. Otherwise you wouldn’t be Ava’s friend, she added in her head. She sipped her drink and the alcohol tasted much stronger than she expected. Or perhaps it was the lack of sleep and food—Charlie had only eaten a muffin for breakfast and a bagel for lunch on the Knives Out set. “Whoa. They sure know how to pack a punch in their margaritas.”

  “Told you I knew a good place. When we’re on location a good bar is crucial. And by good, I mean generous with the alcohol.” Eric sighed loudly. “Aah, that’s nice.”

  “You’re not shooting today?” Charlie asked, frustrated that she had to sit here in Eric’s company instead of Ava’s.

  “Nope. My services are not required today. I took the opportunity to have lunch with Armand Van Cleef at his restaurant. It was absolutely delicious. Chicken liver casserole.”

  Charlie’s stomach turned. Chicken liver casserole sounded far from delicious to her, but what did she know? She wasn’t a chef. She took another sip from her margarita to settle it. It wasn’t the best idea, but it was all she had.

  “Ava cooks a mean chicken liver. Has she prepared it for you yet?” Eric rested his watery gaze on her.

  “God no. And I’d prefer if she never did, either,” Charlie replied, not meeting his eyes.

  “You don’t know what you’re missing.” Eric made quick work of his margarita. According to Nick’s rules of fashion for men, Eric wore his shirt with one too many buttons open. A tuft of grey chest hair peeked out at the top.

  Charlie wasn’t accustomed to
making middle-aged straight men open up to her. With Nick, all she needed was one word and he’d spill his innermost secrets, but this rather gruff man next to her—who had clearly started drinking before they sat down together for margaritas—was still an enigma to her. And she desperately wanted to know more.

  “Another?” she asked, pointing at Eric’s near-empty glass.

  “Don’t mind if I do.” He signaled the bartender and, without consulting Charlie, ordered two more.

  They made some small talk about Knives Out and Underground, and Eric told Charlie about his very first job as a dishwasher in New York. By the time Charlie finished her second margarita, Eric was halfway through his fourth.

  “I almost convinced her to move to New York with me, you know?” he said out of the blue. “Only the most magnificent city in the world.”

  During her time in LA, Charlie had missed New York terribly, but she was more focused on the first part of Eric’s statement.

  “But she’s a Los Angeles woman through and through.”

  Charlie assumed he was talking about Ava.

  “Some women… they leave a lasting impact, you know?” he continued to muse. “You like women, Charlie. You should know.” He regarded her, and his eyes seemed to be sunk even deeper into their sockets.

  Despite being unsettled by what Eric said, Charlie took the opportunity to pry with both hands. “You sound as though you may still have some lingering feelings for Ava.”

  Eric uttered a weird half chuckle. “Lingering,” he said, then shook his head. He took a few more sips. Charlie did the same. She needed the liquid courage for the rest of this conversation. Despite not knowing Eric, a half-drunk man was more likely to tell her the truth than a man with his guard up.

  “What happened the other—” Charlie started to say, but Eric cut her off.

  “No offense, Charlie. I’m sure you’re a fine girl and all that, but you and Ava…” He hung his head and shook it. “No. Just no. I can see why she’s with you. Strangely enough, I really can. You’re young and fresh and something completely different, but she’s a fickle woman. I should know.”

  Blind panic shot through Charlie. What Eric was saying didn’t make the most sense, but it did feed Charlie’s ever-present paranoia.

  “I know she had that… thing with Sandra, but Ava is no lesbian. I can attest to that. Pardon my French, Charlie, but she won’t go long without cock.” He had the audacity to stare her straight in the eyes. “My advice to you—get out while you can. Now. While it won’t hurt too much.” He narrowed his eyes a bit. “Three-and-a-half weeks may not seem long in the grand scheme of things, but these location shoots can feel like they go on forever and—I’m about to tell you a secret here, Charlie—not a season has gone by, and we shoot two per year, when Ava hasn’t done some really raunchy things with my cock.” He grinned without baring his teeth, almost apologetically. “What can I say? I know what she likes.”

  Charlie’s stomach churned, her insides roiling and threatening to climb up her esophagus. Instantly, an image of Ava in bed with Eric lodged itself in her mind. Right next to the barely faded one of Jo and Christian. That particular picture wouldn’t disappear from her brain any time soon.

  “You’re drunk. And you’re full of shit,” Charlie managed to say.

  He pulled his grey eyebrows into arcs on his forehead. “Am I?” He sucked his lips into his mouth to add extra confusion to his last question. “I’ve known her for ten years, Charlie. How long have you known her?”

  He’s just playing you to get her back, Charlie repeated to herself in her head. “I know what you’re trying to do here. Apologize my ass.” Charlie slid off her stool. “It’s not going to work, you jealous, homophobic prick.”

  She didn’t cast him a further glance and sped out of the bar. When she reached the elevator, though, Charlie’s heart was pounding so fast she had to steady herself against the wall. On the way down to Ava’s room, her stomach twisted itself in a dozen more knots and, as soon as Charlie reached the room, she fled into the bathroom and hurled out the remnants of the margaritas.

  She sat gasping for air over the toilet, her cheeks tear-stained, her body cramped. Despite a persistent voice in her head telling her that leaving would only give Eric what he wanted, Charlie couldn’t do this. She couldn’t return to LA and live with the image he’d put in her head. Charlie had gone through it once before—the endless comparing herself to a man. That never-ending useless, painful train of thought that asked If she wasn’t good enough for Jo, then how could she ever be for Ava?

  The dark months after her breakup with Jo suddenly came back to her with humiliating clarity. Anything—even life without Ava—was better than that.

  Charlie didn’t have a lot to pack. Once she’d picked up the clothes Ava had stripped off her the night before, she went online and changed her flight home.

  Whether she’d say goodbye to Ava before fleeing depended on Ava’s shooting schedule. Charlie had two hours before she needed to leave for the airport.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “Charl-ie,” Ava sang out brightly when she entered the room. “I convinced them to let me go earlier than planned today. Some days, right?” She mock-sighed.

  Charlie had been sitting in the same spot on the bed for an hour, not moving an inch, alternately cursing and convincing herself that she was making the right decision—maybe not in anyone else’s eyes, but for herself.

  “Charlie?” Ava dropped her purse. “I thought you’d be in bed. Fully strapped-on. Are you all right?”

  A bolt of fear rushed through Charlie, nestling somewhere in her stomach. “I can’t do this, Ava. I’m very sorry, but I can’t.”

  “Can’t do what?” Ava crouched in front of her, resting her hands on Charlie’s knees. “Strap it on?” She looked at Charlie’s packed carry-on case. “Are you going somewhere?” The glee in her voice was quickly being replaced by something less cheerful.

  “I had a chat with Eric. I’m sure half of what he told me isn’t true, but he got under my skin, and that’s the real problem here.”

  “Eric? What did he say?” Ava’s fingernails dug into Charlie’s jeans.

  “Just… some things I really didn’t want to hear.” The image invaded Charlie’s brain again.

  “That bastard.” Ava pushed herself up and started pacing. “Don’t listen to him, Charlie. Whatever he has said, it’s nothing but a pathetic display of jealousy.”

  “I thought he was your friend?” Charlie said. “He clearly thinks he’s much more than that.”

  Ava stopped pacing, scanned the room briefly, then sat down next to Charlie. “For some reason, Eric has it in his head that he and I are meant to be together. Maybe it’s his midlife crisis. I don’t know. Either way, I made it clear to him that I don’t feel the same way.”

  “But you did sleep with him.”

  Ava expelled a deep sigh. “Yes. Once. When you and I weren’t talking. You know that. Nothing else has happened.” Irritation colored the edges of Ava’s tone. “What am I defending myself against here? You know how I feel about you.”

  “What about before we met? All those lonely nights away from home on location.”

  “What? What about them, Charlie?” Ava stood again.

  “You told me you and he broke up five years ago and you’d both moved on since then. You never said that you were ‘friends with benefits.’”

  “We are no such thing.” Ava leaned against the wall facing Charlie. “This is getting ridiculous.”

  “So you never slept with him on location?”

  “For Christ’s sake. Is this an investigation into my honor and virtue?” Ava closed her eyes. “I’m tired as hell, Charlie. I can’t have this conversation. Not now. And not ever, for that matter.”

  “We don’t need to.” Charlie rose from the bed. “I changed my flight. I’m going home.”

  “Charlie.” It was more a sigh than a word coming from Ava’s mouth. “You’re giving him exactly what
he wants. Don’t you see that?”

  “I do.” Every muscle in Charlie’s body tightened. She had no idea how she would make it to the door. “I’m the problem here. I know that. I wish I could help it. But… I just can’t.”

  “What about me?” Ava had taken a few steps in Charlie’s direction. “Don’t I mean more to you than all these crazy thoughts in your head?”

  A tear leaked from Charlie’s eye. “You do, but Eric was right about one thing.” She swallowed hard before she continued. “It’s better for me to leave now, before it hurts even more.”

  Ava’s facial expression changed from tender anguish to frustrated anger. “If you leave now, this is over. I did my part, said my piece. I won’t be coming after you again, Charlie. I don’t need all your bullshit, anyway. Go home and grow the fuck up.” She wiped a tear from her cheek. “If you prefer to trust Eric’s words over mine, then you’re right, you’d better leave now.”

  Charlie just nodded, turned on her heels, and headed for the door. It fell into the lock behind her with the softest of thuds.

  * * *

  Charlie arrived in LA in the middle of the night. While she waited for a taxi, she tried to decide between what seemed like her two best choices. Option one—go home, take an Ambien, sleep it off, and try to pick up her life again in the morning. Option two—tell the driver to drop her at Nick and Jason’s house where she could cry for a few more hours before taking an Ambien, sleeping it off, and trying to pick up her life the next morning.

  Nick would show her no mercy. He would tell her exactly what the faults in her logic were. It was precisely that sort of chastising Charlie was after. She needed someone to tell her how she had failed, to unclog the cobwebs from her mind, to free her from the illusion that every woman was always going to hurt her the same way Jo had.