Inspired By You (Love in the City Book 6)

by Steph Nuss

  “Okay!”

  The boy rushed out of the room and I felt myself relax a little bit.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked curiously.

  “Do you need any help with dinner?” I asked, avoiding her question.

  “No,” she said suspiciously. “Seriously, what’s going on with you? I’ve never seen you so … I don’t know. You seem nervous.”

  “I am nervous,” I admitted, shaking my head. “I just want him to like me.”

  She laughed. “What are you talking about? He already likes you.”

  “Yeah, the guy who plays Nick Fury,” I argued in a whispered tone. “I want him to like me, Maxton Waters—the guy dating his mom. Not the actor in one of his favorite movies.”

  Whitley rolled her eyes and led me into their kitchen. “He gave you my phone number. I don’t think he’d do that if he didn’t like you.”

  I leaned against her kitchen island. “You should have seen me earlier. I was worrying over bringing something with me tonight. What do you bring for a date with a kid?”

  “Nothing,” she laughed. “I didn’t bring anything to your place.”

  “I even thought about maybe bringing a snack, but I didn’t know what he liked.”

  “Max.” She walked over and wrapped her arms around my shoulders, flushing her body against mine. And just like that, her touch helped calm me down. “Just be yourself. You don’t have to bring him something for him to like you. You don’t have to buy his affection.”

  “Should we let him see us like this?” I asked, settling my hands on her lower back. As much as I loved the feel of her, I didn’t want to do anything that might hurt Zane. “I wanted to kiss you when I first got here and thought maybe I shouldn’t in front of him.”

  “He knows we’re dating,” she explained, fingering the hairs on the back of my neck. “Just keep it PG thirteen in front of him, and we’ll be fine.”

  I leaned in to kiss her, to thank her for silencing my nerves, but I stopped just a breath away from her lips when I heard small feet rushing down the hall. Zane turned into the kitchen and smiled at us.

  “I’m starving!” he exclaimed. “Max, do you like mac and cheese?”

  Whitley pulled away from me with a knowing smile and turned her attention back to dinner.

  “I love macaroni and cheese,” I said, nodding.

  “Mom makes the best,” he said, jumping up into a chair at the kitchen island. “It’s macaroni and cheese baked with bacon and ham.”

  I watched as Whitley pulled a nine-by-thirteen pan out of the oven and used a spatula to divide it into servings. The smell of cheese and meats simmered up from the dish and drifted around us, immediately grabbing my stomach’s attention. On top of the stove, a pot of green beans simmered and a pan of fresh-baked bread sat on a warming burner. The home-cooked meal reminded me of my youth, when the stove was always covered in various sides while the main dish baked in the oven. It seemed like we were always serving a handful of people or creating leftovers that lasted an extra day.

  “You’re also eating green beans, or no dessert,” Whitley said, pointing the spatula at Zane.

  He groaned. “Why do you make them when you know I don’t like them?”

  She sighed. “Because you have to eat vegetables.”

  He rolled his eyes just like her and I struggled to hold in my laughter. I joined him, taking the seat next to his, and hoped to encourage him to eat well.

  “My mom made me eat my veggies, too,” I started. “In fact, she taught me that even if you didn’t like something that was served to you, you should eat it anyway, because someone worked hard to cook it and there were others in the world in need of food. I hated corn when I was your age. It seemed pointless, you know?”

  “Exactly!” He exclaimed. “Mom doesn’t let me have corn anymore even though I do like it.”

  Whitley shot me a glare. “Seriously? You had to bring up corn?”

  “What?” I asked innocently.

  She turned her daggers toward Zane and shook her head. “Don’t you dare tell that story. It’s not dinner appropriate.”

  “But it’s funny!” Zane said, bouncing in his seat.

  “Maybe to you it is,” she grumbled.

  Zane waited until she turned her attention back to the food, and then waved me over to him, as if he was going to tell me a secret. I leaned over and he cupped his hand near my ear and whispered. “When I was younger, I used to run around telling everyone I pooped corn, so that’s why she stopped letting me have it.”

  Laughter shook from my chest and Zane couldn’t contain his snickers either. I imagined a toddler version of Zane, mastering his potty training and eating adult food, announcing his triumphs to the world.

  A throat clearing silenced our laughter, and I looked over to find Whitley scowling at both of us before handing us each a cup of water. “Boys are so gross. That’s not a story we share, Zane.”

  “Oh, come on, Mom! He thought it was funny, too.”

  “It’s not so funny being the parent of said child,” she explained, setting the food up on the countertop in front of us. “Just for that, you’re getting double servings of green beans.”

  “Totally worth it,” he muttered, shooting me a toothy grin.

  Whitley made Zane a plate, piling two spoonfuls of green beans onto it, and then she handed me a plate so we could help ourselves. The three of us sat at the island and ate in comfortable silence for a while, and I finally took a moment to take in my surroundings. Whitley’s place wasn’t huge, but it was bigger than the average city apartment. With its open floor plan, the living room spilled into the kitchen, so they didn’t have a dining room; they utilized the island as their dinner table. The kitchen consisted of stainless steel appliances. A runner rug, perfectly matching the area rug covering the hardwood in the living room, covered the floor in front of the counter. A matching sofa and oversized chair sat in the living room, along with a rustic TV stand that held a flat screen on top of it and a gaming console on the shelf below. Various wall decor that featured images and sayings about family, friends and life hung throughout the living room and kitchen. Framed photographs adorned the walls too, pictures of Whitley and Zane together, along with two other adults, who I assumed were Adam’s parents.

  “What are we going to do after dinner?” Zane asked curiously.

  “I don’t know,” Whitley mused, smiling at both of us. “Maybe we could watch a movie?”

  “Or,” Zane started in an excited tone, “I could show Max my new Mortal Kombat video game.”

  “No,” Whitley vetoed instantly. “We are not playing video games all night.”

  “Fine.” Zane sat back in his chair and reluctantly stared at the bite of beans on his fork.

  I grabbed Whitley’s thigh underneath the countertop and smiled at her. “I think a movie would be good.”

  “Can I pick it?” Zane asked, perking up again.

  “Yes, but not another Marvel movie,” Whitley chastised. “Pick one we haven’t watched in a while.”

  Quickly, he scooped up the remainder of his beans and was excused to go find a movie. Whitley and I finished our food, and then I pulled her chair closer to mine.

  “Thank you for the amazing meal,” I said, brushing my lips against her cheek.

  “Oh, yeah, mac and cheese,” she said sarcastically. “It’s the easiest meal I make around here. When’s the last time you had it? Back when you still lived at home?”

  “Hey, it was good,” I urged, running my hands along her calves. “And I had mac and cheese about a week ago, but it wasn’t as good as yours. It was just the boxed kind.”

  “The Sexiest Man Alive eats boxed macaroni and cheese?” she teased, wrinkling up her nose at me. “You just lost some of your appeal.”

  I tapped her ass playfully as she jumped down from her seat and started gathering up dishes.

  “What can I do to help clean up?” I asked, carrying Zane’s and my dirty dishes to the sink.

>   “Nothing in here.” She stood at the sink, letting the water run hot before she started rinsing. I came up behind her and placed my hands on her hips.

  “Let me help,” I said, kissing her neck. “You spent all this time making dinner, let me clean up.”

  “No, go help Zane pick out a movie. Have him show you around the house. It won’t take me long to get the kitchen cleaned up.”

  Turning her around to face me, I leaned down and gave her the solid kiss she deserved earlier when I first arrived. My tongue swept against hers, and the sweet, little whimper that escaped her encouraged me to tug on her lip, drawing the kiss out even further. Each time I kissed her, it felt familiar and comforting, like I should’ve already been kissing these lips for years. She threw her whole self into it, the way lovers do with their first kiss—a slow, steady start that built up into a heady, all-consuming need for one another.

  Reminding myself we weren’t alone, I pulled back and as she rested her head on my shoulder, I heard her mutter a number.

  “What’d you say?” I asked, stroking the curve of her spine.

  She laughed softly and shook her head. “It’s silly.”

  “No, what’d you say?” I repeated, urging her to confess.

  “Twelve,” she answered, her cheeks flushed. “I’ve been counting each of our kisses, and that was number twelve. I know, it’s stupid, but before our date last night, it had been a long time since I’d been kissed. So, I guess I’ve just been counting them as a way to remember.”

  “That’s not stupid at all,” I said, lifting her chin so her eyes met mine. “But plan on losing count because I plan on kissing you a lot.”

  “Good.” Her blush faded away along with any embarrassment, and she placed a hand on my chest and pushed me back. “Now, go find Zane and help him pick a movie, maybe have him show you his collections. I think you’ll appreciate them.”

  “Okay,” I said, placing a chaste kiss on her neck. “Thanks again for dinner.”

  Leaving the kitchen, I expected to find Zane in the living room, where I assumed the movies were kept, but he wasn’t there. I found him just down the hall in his room, with a pile of movies scattered around him on his bed. But the minute I stepped foot in his room, I suddenly realized why Whitley wanted him to show me this. Zane’s room was practically a shrine to comic books. Red and blue colored the boy’s room, but it was the shelves of comic books, pristinely arranged by a child, that impressed the hell out of me. Most kids read the book and tossed it aside, maybe even letting the pages get bent or torn. Zane clearly appreciated them, read them and then put them back in their plastic. He had them sorted by volumes, but I could tell he was missing some for his collection.

  “Hey, Max,” Zane said, holding up a DVD. “Have you ever seen Ghostbusters?”

  My grin widened and I stated a line from the movie, and Zane followed up with the next quote.

  Excited, he jumped off his bed. “Do you want to watch this one or the second one? I have both, but I like the first one best.”

  “I like the first one better, too,” I said, taking a seat on the edge of his bed. “Your comic book collection is something else. Your mom said you liked them, but your collection is impressive. I have my own collection at my place.”

  “Really? Most of mine were my dad’s,” he continued. “Maybe I could come over and see yours sometime.”

  “I’d like that,” I said, nodding. “Which ones are you missing?”

  “Most of the rare Action Comics I can’t find,” he said in a bummed tone. “The ones I still need are the ones where the superhero first appears. The one I’ve been wanting forever is the first one where Superman appears. I’ve asked for it for every birthday and Christmas, but Mom’s had trouble finding it.”

  At the mention of his birthday, I remembered what he’d said at the homeless shelter. “When is your birthday? I remember you saying you turn nine soon.”

  “July eighth,” he answered.

  Smiling, I continued. “What else would you like for your birthday?”

  “I don’t know,” he said unsurely. “I would love to go to Comic-Con next year, but I’ve been wanting that for a while, too. It’s too late to get a badge for this year’s event.”

  “I thought kids got in free for that?”

  “They do,” he said. “But they have to have an adult with a paid badge with them. Mom’s always had trouble getting a badge. She’s even preregistered and still hasn’t been able to score one.”

  I knew it was tough getting into the event, but I didn’t realize the odds were so low. The first time I attended Comic-Con was right after my first modeling gig. It paid to know people who knew other people; that was how I scored a badge. Now, my name got me into most places. I made a mental note to see what I could do about getting Whit a badge so Zane could go to the most beloved comic book event a fan could attend.

  “But I’d also like some more comic art supplies,” he said, pointing over to his desk.

  He had a drafting table in the corner of his room that held a bunch of different sketches, and from what I could tell, he was damn good. Below the table was a shelf storing more drawing supplies and notebooks. Next to the desk was a drawer with a tablet sitting on top of it.

  I gazed back over at Zane in disbelief and asked, “You draw your own comics, too?”

  “Yeah,” he said, nonchalantly, like every comic book fan could draw their own. “I’m pretty good at drawing, so I started working on my own characters and stuff. I’ve tried drawing digitally on my tablet, but I’m still trying to learn the software. I think I need a better one than the one I’ve got installed on there, so I need to research that a little more and see what programs others are using.”

  “Man, that’s pretty awesome,” I said, amazed. “I hope you’ll let me read whatever you create sometime.”

  Shyly, he shrugged and shifted his attention away from his desk. “I’m almost done with my first, but I’m not sure if I’m ready to share it with anybody yet.”

  “Whenever you’re ready,” I stated. “How about we go get that movie started?”

  “Okay!” he exclaimed, sliding off his bed. “I’m going to make popcorn!”

  After he ran out of his room, I walked over to his desk and secretly eyed some of his work. The kid was damn talented, but I respected his privacy and didn’t actually read or touch any of his comics. I was confident he could weave an amazing story, especially after admiring his comic book collection that rivaled my own. His attention to detail was what caught my eye the most. He had a drawing of Whitley on his desk. She appeared to be watching TV in their living room, and he’d just freehanded a picture of her, perfecting every one of her features, down to her different colored eyes and the furrow that occasionally appeared in her brow.

  “He’s really good, isn’t he?”

  Turning, I found Whitley leaning against Zane’s doorjamb, smiling proudly. “Yeah, he is. Why didn’t you tell me he was such a good drawer?”

  She walked in and straightened out his bedspread where we’d been sitting on it, and then stood beside me admiring her boy’s work. “I want him to tell people. He’s not very confident in himself in regards to his art, even though several people have told him that he’s good. Simon and Julia even enrolled him in a comic drawing course at NYU last summer, and the professor praised him. So, I make sure he tells people about his love for comics, not only reading them but creating them, too. Not to brag about himself or anything like that, but to learn to share his talent with others and not worry about what they think of it. Someday, I hope to see his comics turned into a movie, but right now, I’d love for him to get excited about sharing his work with someone, even if it’s not me.”

  I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and smiled. “I want that, too.”

  “I’m really surprised he even talked about it with you.”

  “Well,” I said, “I asked him what he wanted for his birthday.”

  “That’ll do it.” She laughed a
nd led us back into the living room. “He’s always wanting more art supplies.”

  The smell of buttery popcorn hit my system, and again, my stomach acted like it hadn’t just consumed a full meal as it begged for more rations. I couldn’t remember the last time I watched a movie with popcorn. Definitely pre-acting career.

  In the living room, Zane already had the DVD’s menu screen up and he was all ready to press play. He situated himself in the oversized chair with the big bowl of popcorn in his lap. Another full bowl sat on the coffee table in front of the couch.

  “You guys can share that bowl of popcorn,” he said, stuffing a handful in his mouth.

  “Heaven forbid, you share more than you have to,” Whitley quipped, rolling her eyes.

  “I’m a growing boy, Mom,” Zane argued, remote in hand. “Are you guys ready for me to hit play?”

  Whitley grabbed our bowl of popcorn, and then we settled into the middle of the couch, with her legs draped over my lap and my arm slung over her shoulders. I kicked off my flip-flops and stretched out my legs in front of me, resting my ankles on top of the coffee table. She relaxed back into me and playfully fed me a few kernels before glancing over at Zane.

  “We’re ready.”

  ***

  “He’s going to miss the best part,” I whispered in Whitley’s ear, nodding toward Zane.

  Zane crashed about three-fourths of the way into the movie. His head rested on the arm of the chair, eyes shut, and mouth hung open, with the half-empty bowl of popcorn still nestled in his lap. Now, we were nearing the best scene of the movie, and he was going to miss it.

  “Should I wake him?” I asked softly.

  “No!” Whitley stated in a harsh whisper. “You never wake a sleeping child.”

  I let it go and focused my attention back on the end scene of the movie, but out of the corner of my eye, I secretly watched Whitley, too. She had her eyes fixated on the TV, a soft smile lingering on her lips. I could tell she loved the movie, despite its age, along with the well-known actors and their comedic lines. I’d even seen her lips move in sync with specific quotes she liked or remembered. All of it just added to her likability. Maybe some people didn’t like when people quoted movie lines while watching a movie, but I’d enjoyed bantering back and forth with Zane and her during the movie.