The performance goes off without a hitch. I screw up a line. They yell cut. Another actor fucks up. They yell cut. The audience laughs and applauds, and at the end, we take a bow, and that is when I notice him. Tyler is sitting in the third row, his eyes glued on me. Holy shit! My pulse goes into overdrive, my palms become sweaty, and my mouth is suddenly dry. I can’t stop staring at him because how in the hell did he get here, I mean, I can assume how he got here, but why is he here. A wave of nausea washes over me.
I’ve ignored his texts—much like a child—for the past few months. Yet, here he is.
The stagehands direct us off stage, but I stay behind. I stand to the side of the set, watching as the entire auditorium clears out. Tyler is still sitting there and then, my phone dings with a text.
We need to talk. I came all the way from California, and I’ll sit in this studio until they force me to leave.
All that threat does is remind me of the time we got into a fight after he’d put on porn. I replay that memory in my mind, a smile forming on my face.
I push the screen door open, and it smacks against the exterior of the house. “You are so gross, Tyler. A pervert. I can’t date a pervert. Go date Ellen Framptom. I’m sure she likes Debbie Does Dallas.”
“Oh, come on, titch. It was a joke.”
I’m still stomping across the yard. “Nope. You’re sick. And if you think I will ever do something like that with you—” a nervous laugh slips through my lips because I would so do that with him, “Well, you are wrong.”
“Jemma, really? You’re being so immature.”
A few drops of rain fall from the sky just as a long groan of thunder shakes the ground.
“Maybe so, but you’re a sicko,” I say because that’s mature.
“Sex is a natural thing.”
I grab onto the wooden boards of the fence and pull myself over, toppling over when I land in my yard.
“You know what?” he says. “When you realize what a drama llama you are being, I’ll be sitting right-fucking-here.”
“It’s going to storm,” I call over the fence.
“Don’t care.”
“You’re stubborn and stupid and a pervert.”
“Again, you are immature.”
“Ugh. Fuck you, Tyler.”
“Watch your mouth, young lady.”
I make fists with my hands as I march up the concrete steps. I open the back door and slam it closed for dramatic effect.
My mother is in the kitchen washing dishes, and she stops to look over her shoulder at me. “Something wrong, honey?”
“No.”
“You slammed the door.”
“Tyler’s just annoying.”
“Yeah, most boys are. It’s their penis that makes them annoying,” she says with a laugh.
My lip snarls. “Gross, mother. Just gross.”
I stomp up the stairs to my bedroom and peek out the window. It’s started raining, but he is still sitting on the bench in his yard, glaring up at my window. I flip him the bird, and he flips one back. Right as I lie down in my bed, the bottom falls out. Rain is pounding on the roof, thunder is shaking the house. I can’t help but snicker at the idea of Tyler sitting out there getting drenched. A few seconds later there’s a knock on my window. I hop out of bed and pull the curtains back, laughing hysterically at the sight of Tyler perched on the branch. He looks like a drowned rat. His eyes widen. Shaking his head, he shrugs. “Let me in,” he says.
I cup my hand to my ear, pretending I can’t hear him.
“Don’t make me break your window.”
I open the window, and he clamors inside, dripping water all over my floor. He pulls his wet shirt over his head and drops it to the floor before peeling his jeans off as well.
“Tyler…what the—” I quickly cross the room and lock my bedroom door.
“I got tired of waiting.” He takes a step toward me and grabs my chin, running his wet fingertip over my cheek. “I figured it’d be better if I just made you change your mind.” He slams his lips over mine, backing me toward my bed. He pulls away from me, sliding his hands down my side to my hips and inching the waist of my yoga pants down. “You can’t stay mad at the person your heart belongs to.”
The door to the auditorium slams shut, jarring me from that memory. I watch Tyler as he fidgets with his hands. One of the security guards approach him, most likely to tell him to leave. Right now, I can do one of two things: I can let that guard tell him to leave, and I can watch him walk out of my life forever, or I can suck it up and go out there.
Tyler glances up at the guard, says something and shrugs. The guard shakes his head and points toward the exit. My heart is hammering in my chest, my mind jumbled.
“He’s fine,” I say, stepping out from the side of the set. “He’s my friend.”
“Well, Ms. Morgan, that’s fine, but he needs a pass to stay.”
“I said he’s my friend.”
The guard shrugs. “And that’s fine, but if he’s going to stay in here, he needs a pass.”
“Fine,” I say and walk off the set and into the seating area. “We’ll go somewhere else.”
The crotchety guard nods, mumbling to himself as he walks off.
And here I stand, in front of that boy that shouldn’t still mean everything to me, but somehow does.
Clearing my throat, I point toward the exit. “We can go for a walk or something.”
“Okay.”
We walk up the stairs in silence. My pulse is going haywire, my skin heating.
“Hey,” he says. “I need to get my bag from security.
“Uh, okay.” We turn right and come out by the entrance of the studios. Bertha is leaned against the turnstile. “Hey, Bertha.”
“I knew it was a woman,” Tyler mumbles beneath his breath and I cut my eyes over at him.
“Can we get his bag?”
She nods, opens the door to the office and drags out his bag, winking at him as she hands it to him.
“Thanks,” he says and quickly turns away.
“So, what are you doing here?” I ask as we walk down the stairs.
“Checking out a University.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, thought maybe I could look into a law degree after all.”
I smile.
“And because of you. You did great by the way.”
“Thanks.”
The cool breeze blows across the back of the studio. I watch the cigarette butts from the crew dance across the pavement, along with a wadded up piece of paper. I don’t know what to say to him. I’m glad to see him, but I’m annoyed. I don’t want to feel this way and all seeing him does is confuse my heart even more.
“I’ve played that night over and over in my head,” he says.
I swallow. “What night?”
“The last time I was with you.” He steps toward me. I step back. “What we have…” another step and this time my back is against the concrete wall of the building. “What we have isn’t something we’ll ever find anywhere else.” Tyler takes my chin in his hand and tilts my face up, forcing me to look at him. “And you know it.”
“I know,” I say, slowly removing his hand from my face. “But sometimes you have to learn when to let things go. Tyler, I wish—”
“I quit before you left.”
My heart holds back several beats before forcing a back supply of blood through my veins, my skin buzzing. “I heard.”
Tyler leans in closer until I have nowhere to go. Tilting his head, he stares me down. “You told me it didn’t matter if I quit…” his lips barely brush over mine as he speaks. “I call bullshit. You can’t stay mad at the person your heart belongs to.”
And without another second, his warm mouth covers mine, his tongue thrusting deep into my mouth. I grab onto his shoulders and tug his hard chest against my breasts. His fingers tangle in my hair as he jerks my head back, moving his lips over my neck and throat. “I fucking love you, and you fucking love me, and
we belong together.”
And he’s right, we do. What defines him is the way he loves me, and that is something no one will ever be able to taint or ruin. After all these years, turns out we do have that epic kind of love that can withstand anything.
One year later
Jemma’s finished her second session of Disaster. I’m almost finished with my undergrad degree and studying for my LSAT. We’ve come home to visit our parents over Thanksgiving, and, well, right now, I’m sitting in a tree. In our tree. I’ve been sitting in this damn tree for twenty minutes. I nearly broke my neck the first time I tried to climb up here and right now I’m staring at a bleeding gash I got from my second attempt. I swear to God, this tree was much easier to climb as a kid. She said they were prepping the turkey so I thought ten minutes max. What the fuck are they doing to it? Jesus Christ! I can’t feel my hands and my lips are starting to go numb. There’s a loud flapping noise followed by a high-pitched screech which nearly makes me lose my footing. A fucking Barn Owl has perched next to me, its huge yellow eyes glaring at me. He circles his head a few times, slowly inching toward me. The fucker’s brave. I shift to the right a little, and he follows me. One of the branches snaps beneath me and the owl flaps its wings, hooting before he calms the fuck back down.
The light flips on in Jemma’s room. I drag in a breath as I shimmy my way up the old limb, praying that the damn branch doesn’t break in half. This is just like it was ten years ago, I sit here admiring how gorgeous she is and feeling a little bit like a creeper for watching her when she doesn’t know I am. Reaching out, I tap on her window, and she startles. She tiptoes to the window and peers through the sheer curtains, laughing when she sees me in the tree.
“What in the hell are you doing?” she asks when she opens the window.
“Sneaking into your room.”
When I shift my weight to climb in through the window, the branch creaks again, and that fucking bird flies off just before the limb gives way. There’s a loud snap followed by a crash as I go plummeting to the ground, landing on my back with a THWAP.
“Oh, shit. Tyler!”
I can’t breathe. Pain is radiating throughout my entire body.
“Tyler, are you okay?” Jemma screams.
“Mmmph,” I manage to groan.
A few minutes later, she’s hoovering over me with wide eyes. She brushes a few stray twigs off of me before yanking me to my feet. “You could have killed yourself, you freak. What in the hell possessed you to do that?”
“I thought you said it was romantic,” I mumble, attempting to catch my breath.
“Yeah, it was when we were kids. It’s just weird when you do it as an adult, pervy on every level.”
I grab her by the waist and yank her body against mine. “That tree means a lot to me, you know?”
“Yeah, I bet seeing as how it was a passageway to you losing your virginity,” she laughs, slapping playfully at my chest.
“Not just that.” I kiss her. “You see, the first time I saw you, I knew you would be mine one day, even though you protested it for years. That tree,” I point at the trunk, “that’s how I made you fall in love with me.”
“Oh, is that so? The tree?”
“Yep.” I kiss her again. “Think about it. Our first kiss, the first time we had sex…all because I could climb up that tree and sneak into your room.”
“Those are some of my favorite memories.”
“Mine too.” She pulls away from me, but I grab onto her wrist. “Wait, titch.” I fish out the ring shoved inside my pocket, but keep it in my closed hand. “The one thing I haven’t really done is make you mine.”
“What are you talking about, we live together. I’m yours.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I slide my hand down her arm and take her hand in mine. “But the thing is, I want you to be my wife. You aren’t really mine until you take my last name, you know?” I slip the ring on her finger. “Marry me, titch?”
She smiles, fighting tears as she stares down at her hand. Pressing her lips against mine, she nods. “God, yes.” I kiss her softly, my heart slamming against my ribs because my life is finally exactly like it fucking should be. I’m with her and know I will be for the rest of my life.
“Alright, enough of this sappy shit.” I back away slightly because I’m pretty sure she may slap me for this, but fuck, I just can’t help myself. “I always knew I’d marry you, but did you ever think you would be marrying an ex porn star?”
“Fuck you, Tyler.” She smiles. “Come on, dinner’s ready.”
Jemma shows her parents the ring over dinner. Her mom swoons, but her dad, Frank just glares at me, tapping the end of his fork on the edge of the table. When her mom stands to clear the table, he throws his napkin onto the plate and scoots his chair back.
“Tyler, could I talk to you for a minute?” he asks on his way out of the kitchen.
I glance at Jemma. Her brow wrinkles as she shrugs. I swallow and follow Frank’s linebacker frame into the living room. There’s an unamused look on his face when he turns around and leans against the fireplace. “Now, I’ve always been fond of you. Always thought you were a little off in the head, but I liked you.”
Fuck. “Thanks…”
“Funny thing is,” he sighs. “I never pinned you for a pervert, so imagine my surprise when I stumble across Alice in the Wondercock.”
I swallow really, really hard, not sure whether I should make eye contact with him or not. I decide it’s best if I just stare off to the side of his face so it seems like I might be making eye contact with him or maybe just have a touch of lazy eye.
“I thought, surely this Johnny Depth fucker isn’t Tyler from next door, so I click on another video, appropriately named Charlie’s Chocolate Starfish. Now, I’m getting on up there in age, so maybe my eyesight’s on the fritz, or maybe I was distracted by all the close ups of assholes, but I’m pretty sure that was you.”
This is fucked up and awkward in every way imaginable. I’m standing here, alone, with my future father-in-law basically telling me he watched me do ass porn. Fucking shit. I’m sweating bullets right now. “Well,” I clear my throat and manage a nervous smile, lying for all I’m fucking worth. “As amazing as this Charlie’s Chocolate… what did you say it was called?”
His expression is as cold as stone. “Starfish.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Chocolate Starfish. They should have just said asshole because that’s all that was in that film.” He arches a brow. “Assholes.”
“Wow, Mr. Morgan, I’ve not heard of that one, but as amazing as it sounds, I can assure you, I’ve never been an actor.”
“Mm-hmm,” he mumbles. And here we are, staring at each other. He knows I’m lying. I know I’m lying, but I can always deny it, right? “So,” he says. “I guess The MadShatter doesn’t ring a bell either?”
I shake my head, holding back a laugh. “Nope.”
“The Lone Wanker, Sucky Hollow, The Cum Diaries, Finding Pussyland…never heard of any of those?”
Clearing my throat, I pat him on the back. “Mr. Morgan, I’m a guy, I get it. Every now and then you get an itch you need to scratch, and you may google a bit of porn, but dude, this sounds like some really sick shit you’ve gotten into. Don’t worry, I won’t tell Mrs. Morgan. We can get you help…and some new eyeglasses.”
I turn to walk off, shaking my head. “Like I would ever do porn. What kind of person does that?”
The End
There are so many people to thank for all their support. First, thank you to anyone who reads my books. It is because of you that I am able to do something I love, and for that I am more thankful than you will ever know. To all the bloggers, thank you so much for your help. Without you guys there is no way anyone would ever know to pick up my books. You guys are amazing!
LP Lovell, thank you for being an amazing friend and someone I can always count on. I love you.
SJ, I love you. The end.
Jen, thank you for being so amazing! I ado
re you.
Leigh Stone, thank you for the amazing job on formatting and for putting up with my crazy.
Gitte and Jenny, I love you two so hard! You are two of the kindest people ever.
Kim Ginsberg, thank you for being the hawk-eyed proofreader that you are.
Eric Battershell, thank you for the amazing photo. It is a gorgeous piece of art.
Assad Shalhoub, thank you for the perfect pose for the cover.
Stevie is a tired author who resides in Alabama. She has an obsession with the band Bush, Captain Jack Sparrow, and Aldous Snow. She also lacks a brain to mouth filter, so you never really know what you are in store for. Although she doesn’t really stick to one subgenre in romance, the one thing she strives to do is deliver a story that will make you feel. Now, she may make you cry, scream, vomit, or have nightmares, but feel you shall.
Other books by Stevie J. Cole
A Love So Tragic
Pandemic Sorrow Series:
Jag
Rush
Roxy
Co-authored with LP Lovell:
Wrong
Wrath
Absolution
You can keep up to date with releases and signings (and shenanigans) via the following social media outlets:
FACEBOOK: https://www.facebook.com/authorsteviejcole
TWITTER: @steviejcole
WEBSITE: www.steviejcole.com
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