Already Written (Hollywood Exchange #1)

by Xavier Neal

  “Is it legal?”

  My head bobs side to side. “Not exactly?”

  There are a shit ton of drugs in the industry. Most of them are to help you slim down, stay slim, or simply help you forget the soul sucking nightmare you find yourself trapped in with no way out. This is the only one I do. Hate the fucking feeling of rubbers and most women I've dated hate the idea of children...well...ever. Enilanerda or EA is a miracle drug, but isn't legal for two clear cut reasons. It would cost pharmaceutical and condom companies billions and of course, no drug is without its side effects. EA has an effect on your sex drive. Each time you take it, you run the risk of becoming dependent on it in order to get it up or even lose the capability of ever getting it up again. Risk to gain ratio is in your court. Personally, I think it's one of those 'side effects' that are one in half a million. Regardless, my using it has never been an issue before now.

  Quickly, I surrender, “Honestly, I haven't used condoms since I was in high school, but if you want, I will go out right now and grab a box.”

  Apprehension seems to bury itself deeper in her eyes. “You know I haven't been with many guys.”

  “I do.”

  “You said not to assume anything, but can I make an educated guess you've been with more than a handful?”

  The dreaded numbers talk. Can actually say I haven't had this talk since high school either.

  Unsure of the best phrasing choice, I merely nod.

  “Like how much more?”

  “You want me to actually count?”

  “Maybe!” Minka squeaks. “Can you not count that high?”

  “I-”

  “And how are you so sure that because you use some illegal drug that you're clean? Do you get checked? Have you ever been checked before? Legally checked. You know, by an actual doctor not a drug dealer who considers himself one.”

  Holding my composure against her snarky comment, I answer, “I have.”

  “And I'm just supposed to be believe you?”

  Irritation darts my eyebrows down. “Excuse me?”

  “I'm just supposed to take your word for it?”

  “Why wouldn't you?”

  “Because you could...you could lie.”

  “I've never lied to you before. Why would I start now?”

  “To get me in the sack!”

  Folding my arms across my chest, I try my hardest to settle the building bitterness. “Because I have to lie to get women into bed?”

  “Well no-”

  “Because I seem like that type of asshole to you?”

  “No-”

  “Then what the hell, Minka? What do you want? Physical proof?”

  “Yes!” Her hands fly in the air. “I want proof you're clean! A doctor's note, some sort of test results-”

  “You want my test results?” Disbelief stiffens my body completely. “You want me to call Caroline and have her fax them over?”

  “Yes!”

  “That's crazy!”

  “You're crazy!” She hops to her feet. “You saying your clean isn't enough! There's more than two handfuls of reasons why I have every right to be wary about letting you have sex with me without being a 100 percent sure that I'm not gonna catch some mutated herpes with or without condoms!”

  When did this conversation take this fucking turn? How did we go from sexy word play to scary word association? At what point did I screw all this up? Really? No clues?

  Shock at the accusation cracks my jaw. A snide rebuttal prepares itself to be fired when I notice the way she's fidgeting with her glasses. Her hair. Her shirt. The way her hands seem unable to fixate on any one point for too long. Remembering the last time I saw her this twitchy, I question in a quiet tone, “Baby, is this really about my sexual history or are you worried about not being enough in bed?”

  Her brown eyes nearly explode out of her head. “How dare you!”

  “Minka-”

  “Out!” She points to her front door. “Just go!”

  “But-”

  “No!” The tone of her voice is dripping with sadness. “This conversation is over.”

  Not sure I even want to have it any more myself, I rise to my feet, grab my car keys, and head for the front door, thankful I left my suitcase in the SUV. With one hand on the knob, I pin her with a hard look. “Goodnight Minka.”

  She gives me one final look before diverting her attention down to the ground.

  I exit her apartment, shutting the door quietly behind me.

  Shit. You know, the last time I struck out this hard, I was trying to weasel my way into a threesome with these two Victoria Secret models at a party I got invited to by Preston. I was still a nobody in the business, but it was a once in a life time opportunity I couldn't pass on trying. Ever since that moment, I told myself in the sex department, any failure after it would never be as epic as being slapped silly by two supermodels. Until this very moment that was true. This is a new low. At least then I knew what I did wrong. Right now? Not gonna lie. I'm a little baffled. I'll text J.J. and see if maybe he has any suggestions on how to undo this. Don't worry. If he doesn't I've got a long, cold night alone ahead to figure out an apology and exactly what I did wrong.

  Minka

  Emerson’s voice reaches dog whistle levels on the other end of the phone.

  I didn't wanna call her, but I know I needed to. Kinda screwed things up last night. Majorly.

  “If I could bitch slap you through the phone I would!”

  “I told you I don't like dating! It's hard! And weird! And… and… and… and I always screw up! I always screw things up! You know this! You didn't prepare me better!”

  Emerson shouts incoherently at me again.

  Probably shouldn’t have blamed her for something I know is clearly my fault. She's also probably very upset it is seven a.m. on a Sunday and she should still be knocked out.

  “Okay Minka,” her voice starts to calm down again. “Here's the thing. We both know the reason you pulled your little stunt last night. You're scared-”

  “Terrified-”

  “Of sleeping with Pierce. He hit the nail on the head with that accusation. However before I commit a double homicide on you, killing you once for waking me up too early, and twice for picking the dumbest fight you could to avoid having sex with the man who apparently loves you, according to the giddy text I got yesterday, you're going to end this call. You're going to end this call with me, drive all the way across town, and apologize for being a bitch and a giant pussy to Pierce's face.”

  Pouting, I roll over in my bed. “I don't wanna.”

  “I don't care.” She counters. “You're an adult. You're going to have an adult conversation.”

  “But Em-”

  “Mink, you've already done the scariest part.”

  Are blow jobs really that scary?

  “You've fallen in love,” Emerson continues. “You've got it built up the wrong way in your head. Any asshole can have random, meaningless sex. It takes a brave individual to fall in love. To commit to another person. To put all the pieces of you out there to be accepted or rejected just because you see something in another person you wanna keep around in your life. Sex is just a fun way to express that when you're in a relationship. It enhances it. Not defines it. And most importantly, even if you do royally suck in bed, which after watching you deep throat a breakfast fruit I doubt, who the fuck cares! Practice, practice, practice with him until you get better! I'm sure he won't mind.”

  The two of us start to laugh through her final lines and I mumble, “When did you get this smart?”

  “When I started reading your novels.”

  In a hopeful tone, I question, “Really?”

  “Of course not. You know I'm waiting for the Netflix originals,” she yawns on the other end. “By the way, for this early morning fit, you owe me a cup of coffee and lunch.”

  I smile.

  “Now, get off the phone, go over there, and apologize. Afterward, we'll go lingerie shopping a
nd I can give you a few tips that might chill some more nerves.”

  “Fine,” another huff escapes me. “I'll go negotiate sex with my super sexy T.V. star boyfriend.”

  “Boo-hoo your life is hard,” she mumbles before there's a click.

  I place my phone on my bedside table and lie on my back.

  Whoa...that really was a new face of crazy on me last night. The moment he closed the door, I ran to the bathroom, and screamed at my reflection in the mirror a slew of hateful things. Apparently self-sabotage exists outside of books too. I guess I should probably get my ass over there before he hops a flight and never looks back. Holy shit! What if he did? What if he found another girl last night to hook up with instead? That son of a bitch! I- what? Right. That overreacting thing. Word vomit and outlandish thoughts are two of my specialties. I'm sure you're right. I'm sure he moped all night just like I did.

  After a long shower in which I coached myself on the best way to apologize, I brush my teeth, and drive over to his brother's mansion, continuing my self-help speech along the way.

  Once I arrive, I don't waste time in my car where I can talk myself out of the well-rehearsed apology. I rush to the front door and frantically knock while continuing to repeat the exact words I want to say in my head.

  To my surprise it doesn't take long for the front door to open. Immediately, I'm gifted with the glorious display of a glistening shirtless Pierce with a pair of gray sweatpants hanging helplessly off the edge of his hips.

  Without thought I gripe, “Aw man, that's not fucking fair. I come over here to throw myself at the mercy of the court and you're bringing beautiful biased testimony!”

  Instantly Pierce chuckles causing his muscles to flex in the process.

  Mindlessly I add, “Go ahead. Laugh. Rinse away the last courage inside of me with those washboard abs.”

  He laughs again and offers, “I can put a shirt on if you want.”

  “That's like putting a shirt on one of those ancient Greek statues. Pretty sure riots would ensue.”

  Another chortle leaves him before he ushers his head the direction of the house. “Come on in.”

  With a bashful smile, I slip by, six hard reasons of what made my stunt last night even dumber, haunting me in the face.

  The odds of me screwing this up further are increasing exponentially. Wanna start taking bets? I would place a good portion of money on any of the nerd spaces. Sounds about the right number for stupid things I'm going to say.

  Taking a few steps in, I watch Pierce relocate himself to the stairs directly in front of me. As soon as he's seated he clasps his hands together. “You wanted to talk?”

  “Apologize,” I mumble and close the distance. “Probably badly, but you're the one who says my word vomit is okay. So here goes.”

  His eyebrows lift in anticipation.

  My mouth opens to start when I realize the words to my cleverly timed and prepared speech are non-existent.

  Damn those fucking abs!

  “Okay, so I was stupid last night. Mega stupid. I completely flipped out over essentially nothing. Actually, really nothing. I picked a huge fight with you in hopes you would do exactly what you did, which was leave, which was childish and stupid. Very. Very. Very stupid. Did I mention stupid? ”

  “Once or twice.” Pierce nods. “Why'd you want me to leave?”

  “Because you're right!” My hands fly up in the air. “I'm terrified of having sex with you!”

  Befuddled, he leans forward but remains silent.

  “Come on! Don't give me that look! You've seen you! You know what you look like! And looks aside, you're really good at everything else, so why the hell would you be bad in bed? I don't even think that's scientifically possible. Me on the other hand? There's like one thing I'm good at and it's not even sexually related!”

  “One thing you think you're good at.”

  Did he just call me a bad writer?

  “Excuse me?”

  “Only one thing you think you're good at, Minka. Writing is just one of the many amazing things you do. You don't give yourself enough credit.”

  “See!” I shout again. “See! You're like fucking perfect. Perfect body. Perfect words. Perfect understanding. How the hell am I supposed to compete with that?”

  “How about you stop looking at me like your competition?” He suggests on a snip.

  Realizing this is crashing too hard for any survivors, I cover my face completely with my hands in hopes my genie powers will kick in.

  Any day now I'm gonna be that chick from Bewitched.

  “Come sit,” Pierce calls to me.

  Reluctantly, I do.

  The moment my ass hits the stair beside him he says, “Minka, I wanna have sex with my girlfriend.”

  My face falls.

  “Whenever that is. It doesn't have to be now and I was kind of a dick for not catching on sooner you're not ready for that step yet. There's nothing wrong with that either. I'll wait. And whenever it does happen, it'll be the best sex I've ever had because you're the first woman I've ever loved.”

  Surprise turns my voice to a whisper, “I am?”

  He nods. “If I'm lucky, you'll be the only woman I ever love.”

  Objection! Unfair advantage! In any good romance novel, the heroine would have an equally romantic retort. We all know I don't...see. Reality blows.

  “Now, tell me this. Is it the number of women you think I've slept with that really worries you or is it something else?”

  On a heavy sigh, I shake my head. “I don't know...I mean that doesn't help the fear, but...for me sex has never been...What's the word. Um...enjoyable?”

  It's his turn to look surprised.

  “Wait! No! I mean the stuff we do is totally enjoyable! That's mind blowing! Perfections Perfection! Amazing. Like...whoa...Dear Penthouse amazing,” I vomit up again before covering my mouth.

  Pierce peals it away and smiles. “Compliment well received.”

  “While that's all...amazing, like I said really amazing...I've only slept with two guys in my life. One, I was in high school and once he got my virginity he bolted faster than a speeding bullet. The other? We rarely had sex. When we did it had been properly scheduled the same way you make an appointment to go get your teeth pulled.”

  “How-”

  “He was gay. I was his beard.”

  “That makes more sense.”

  “So...yeah...in my experience I guess I've never had good sex so the fear of being inadequate is very real. Not ooogie boogie man very real, not say the name in the mirror three times very real, but serial killer loose in my city real.” After giving my hair a ruffle my voice softens, “I've written a bazillion hot as fire sex scenes. On paper, I've probably had way more sex than you.”

  Pierce snickers and wets his lips. “See. It's me who should be worried about coming up short.”

  “Nothing about you is short.”

  It's not! Not even sure all of him can fit in all of me.

  We laugh together, which defuses the tension strangling me.

  As soon as our giggles begin to die down, I seriously state, “It's different than a novel, Pierce. That's planned. Corrected. Perfected. Many rewrites happen before it's launched into the world. That's not a luxury of real life. I get one shot here and I don't wanna screw this up. Any of this.”

  He leans over and rests his forehead against mine. “Believe it or not I worry about the same damn thing.”

  A small sigh of relief comes out.

  “We don't have to do anything until you're ready, Minka. And just know....there's not a goddamn thing that could change my mind about loving you.”

  His lips lightly brush against mine, the kiss meaning to be sweet, but has the opposite effect. Electrocuted by the connection, I toss both my arms around his neck, and pull him closer for a deeper kiss. Pierce groans as our tongues roll around each other in starving fashion. I lean back against the stair and he relocates his body on top of mine. Having the heavy pressure of hi
s body against mine ignites a familiar ache between my legs. My hips lift to grind against his, the rhythmic rocking sparking the desire to wanna come into a million pieces from more than our usual exploration.

  If I suggest we do it now wouldn't that be like mixed signals or something?

  His mouth moves over to my neck. The torturous teasing tears a moan from me. “Pierce...”