You're Dangerous

by Casey McMillin

  Out of nowhere, someone pounded on Hannah's door. Hannah sprang up and crossed the room to open it. Jason stood up as well, mostly because the knocking seemed a bit urgent for a casual visit.

  "What's going on?" Sam asked. He stepped into the room without being asked, and instantly made eye contact with Jason.

  "Just playing some video games," Hannah said, smiling.

  Sam was not smiling as he continued looking at Jason, who tried to smooth things over. Jason took the few steps and stuck out a hand, which Sam shook reluctantly.

  "I'm Jason Lane—Hannah's friend. Is my car in the way?"

  Sam hadn't smiled since he'd come in the room, which was rare for him. He looked Jason over like the apartment would be better off without him. "I mean, I guess not right now, but I might be going somewhere in a little bit. Are you planning on leaving in a minute?"

  Jason looked at Hannah for a little support. She looked at a clock.

  "I can't believe it's almost midnight," she said. She looked back at Sam. "Jason just came up to hang out for a few minutes," she said. "He'll be leaving in a minute."

  Jason stuck his hand out again for Sam to shake in what was clearly a see ya later gesture. "It was nice meeting you. Take care."

  "You take care too," Sam said.

  "All right, then," Jason said. He gave Sam a little nod, and Sam turned toward the door. He shot Hannah a look that begged her to be smart as he closed her door and went down the stairs.

  "I guess you should probably go, anyway," she said. She was having fun, and wanted him to stay, but Sam's interruption brought her back to the reality of the situation—that hanging out with Jason wasn't going anywhere. At least not to places that were acceptable for a nice girl like her.

  Jason let out a little frustrated sigh. "I'm with a lot of girls," he said, out of nowhere. "I've had sex more times than I can count with girls whose names I can't even pronounce. I've done it in foreign countries and in public places, and I'm probably gonna get nasty in Vegas this weekend."

  Her jaw dropped then her face morphed to an incredulous expression. "Oh my God, Jason. You are so weird. I can't believe you just said all that to me. Now I see why I should have kept the ice cream thing to myself. Some things are just TMI."

  "Does it make you mad?" he asked. He asked because he was hoping it did make her mad. He felt so possessive of her when Sam came up there, and he was hoping she'd feel the same way when she thought about him being with other girls that weekend.

  "No, it doesn't make me mad," she lied. "Why would I get mad about your life? It's none of my business." She threw her hands in the air. "Point taken if you just wanted to make a note that you're a big slut, though," she said. "I sort of figured you were since everyone throws themselves at you."

  His face broke into a slow smile, which infuriated her. "Did you just call me a slut?" he asked.

  "No, you just called yourself a big slut when you told me about your plans to do everyone in Vegas this weekend."

  "Are you mad about it?" he asked again.

  Instead of lying and saying she wasn't mad, she pushed at him playfully, "Just go do your thing in Vegas," she said. "It's really none of my business."

  He took a resigned breath because he knew she was speaking the truth. He reached out to hug her before he left, pulling her into his arms for what he thought would be a quick hug goodbye, but he ended up hanging on to her for several long seconds.

  Hannah felt a tingling weakness course through her entire body. She wanted him so badly, she felt as if her body could melt into his. She caught herself holding onto him tightly, and the realization made her break the contact altogether.

  "Thanks for the job," she said, smiling up at him. "I'm really excited about it."

  "I am too," he said.

  "Don't forget to email me those pictures," she said.

  He left even though he didn't want to. He turned and waved on his way across the threshold, and she waved back through the ever-narrowing crack in the door. He wanted to fling the damn thing open and kiss her senseless, but he controlled himself and turned for the stairs instead.

  The whole way down, he considered turning back for the door and getting the kiss he felt like he deserved. Okay, so maybe he didn’t deserve it, but he wanted it. He wanted it so badly that he sat in the driveway for several minutes before he finally made himself leave.

  Chapter 10

  Getting the chalkboards down from the ceiling was a huge undertaking. They were bigger than they looked, and she was glad nobody was in a big rush to have them done. It was Saturday evening and she had one-and-a-half of the four done. She had hoped to have all four of them done by the end of the weekend, but it didn't look like that was going to happen. The owner loved what she was doing and told her he'd rather her take her time than rush it.

  Chalkboard number one had taken much longer than Hannah anticipated, but the end result had been worth the extra care. They already had it hanging downstairs, and everyone who'd seen it said how much they liked it. Number two would have to remain in its unfinished state for the night, because it was 8PM and she'd been looking at chalkboards for the last eleven hours straight.

  It was pouring down rain when Hannah finally left Common Grounds, and she broke down and called Sam for a ride instead of having to walk. He was there to pick her up within five minutes, and she thanked him profusely for getting out in the rain. They talked about what a long, chalk-filled day she had, and he asked if she wanted some of his mom's left over baked pasta.

  She accepted gratefully, and Sam brought it to her apartment for her in the rain. She was in the shower when he got there, and he just hung out on the couch while he waited for her.

  Hannah finished her shower and warmed up a plate of pasta. She sat on the opposite side of the couch and they started talking about a party Sam went to the night before. A few minutes into their conversation, he reached onto the coffee table and grabbed her sketchbook.

  "Mind if I take a look?" he asked.

  "Not at all," she said. "There's a new one in there from yesterday."

  Sam opened the book and thumbed through a few pages he'd already seen before getting to the sketch she'd been working on for the Ska band.

  "I'm not sure if I'll use that one or not," she said.

  "Who are these people?" he asked.

  "They're a band called The Shifty Seven. It's supposed to be a design for a T-shirt. I'm not sure if I'll show them that one or start another. They told me to take my time—so I'm just gonna think about it till I'm done with this other project."

  Sam looked at her like she was being ridiculous. "Hold this," he said. He shoved the sketchbook into her hands, and Hannah looked at him confused. Sam adjusted the book where she was holding the picture facing out, took his phone out of his pocket, and took a picture of her holding the artwork. She stuck out her tongue and crossed her eyes when he snapped it, which made the whole thing that much better.

  "I'm gonna email you this so you can send it to the band. They need to see it."

  "Are you serious? You think they'll like it? I wasn't even sure if I was going to show them. I've got to think about getting the boards done at work, then I'll decide what to do for these guys."

  "Why would you draw something else when you have this?" Sam asked, still confused. He pressed the appropriate buttons to send the freshly taken photograph to her email.

  "He's paying me a lot of money to draw it, so I guess I'd just feel bad if I showed them something that I did in one afternoon."

  "Whatever suits you," Sam said, shaking his head. "But even if you do draw another one, I think you should show them this one."

  Sam stayed over for a little while longer and by the time he left, she'd made up her mind that she was going to email the picture to Jason to see if he liked it as much as Sam did. It was a little after nine in Nashville when she sent it.

  She attached the photo Sam had taken and wrote a note that said, "This is just something I was playing with. I wante
d to get your initial reaction. Please don't forward it to Trip and those guys. I haven't decided if this is the one. I might work on something else when I'm done with the project at work. Hope your trip is going well. Try not to break too many hearts out there. Take care, Hannah"

  ****

  Jason and Nick were both marginally famous. They were the type of famous were you explain to people who you are, and they're probably pretty impressed—maybe they'll even ask for an autograph. But Cam was officially freaking famous. He was the type of famous where you say jump and people say, how high? Most people, at least. There were those who acted like they didn't know who he was or why they should be impressed, and with those people, Cam just acted like a normal human being—which was actually a little refreshing.

  Cam's life was ruled by his fame, but he wouldn't give it up for the world. He knew he had it good, and he was enjoying it to the fullest. Jason and Nick had the best of both worlds. They didn't have to deal with the media or the expectation of fans, but they were able to reap the benefits of being on the fringe of fame. Not one of the three was discontent with his place in life, and the confidence they projected because of it was significant. They carried themselves like they were the most powerful men in the room, and everyone was convinced they were just that.

  Cam performed to a sold out crowd the night before at the Orleans Arena, and after the show, they gambled and drank and hung out with a few girls at the bar before crashing in their suite at the MGM Grand. They planned to stay there because that's where the fights were being held.

  The prelims had been going on for the last hour, at least, but it was time for the main fight card to begin and the guys went down to their cage side seats. All of them were considerable size men, and people pretty much left them alone, so having security tag along was sort of overkill. Cam gave about thirty high-fives or handshakes and posed for two pictures, but the entourage of three just stuck together and went to their seats without much of an ordeal.

  Cam sat between Jason and Nick just because he was the most likely one to get hassled and Jason and Nick were buffers of a sort. A cameraman came to get a close-up of Cam within the first three minutes they were there. Of course, he asked if it was okay first, but Cam readily agreed to the free publicity and just asked that they give him a heads up before they turned the camera on them.

  "I have a few swimsuit models coming up to the room later tonight," Cam said after the first fight was over.

  They both looked at him—Nick with wide eyes, and Jason like he was crazy.

  "Where'd you find swimsuit models?" Jason asked.

  "There was some kind of photo shoot in one of the ballrooms here," Cam said. One corner of his mouth raised in a sly grin. "I didn't even have to do anything. A few of the girls heard I was staying here and got in touch with me through one of the sound guys."

  Nick covered his mouth with his fist and laughed like it was on for later that night. "Welcome home, son!" he said, obviously up for whatever was about to happen with the models in question.

  "How many are coming to the room?" Jason asked.

  "Who cares?" Nick said. "He had me at swimsuit model."

  "I was trying to surprise you guys, but I couldn't take it anymore. I had to show you this." Cam handed his phone to Jason who looked at the screen before handing it to Nick. It was a photo one of the girls had sent him. There were at least eight girls in the picture. "She told me in the text which ones are coming by tonight it's—" Cam started to point, but Nick shielded his face.

  "Don't tell me, don't tell me," Nick said. "I want it to be a surprise. Is it all of them?"

  "No, it's not all of them," Cam said.

  "Don't tell me," Nick repeated. "I want to wait."

  Cam looked at Jason and shrugged. "Do you want to know?" he asked.

  "Naa," Jason said, "I'll go with the surprise if Nick is."

  The next set of fighters came out to the cage one-by-one. Jason took his phone from his pocket to check the time as the second guy (a Brazilian he didn't recognize) was walking out. He had few new emails and he pushed the little envelope icon to look at them. He fully intended just to glance at the inbox but not take the time to open or read any of them.

  He blinked at the name he saw in his inbox. There was one from Hannah. He clicked on the email without giving it a second thought. He completely tuned out the loud walk-out music as he read the words in the body of the email.

  "This is just something I was playing with. I wanted to get your initial reaction. Please don't forward it to Trip and those guys. I haven't decided if this is the one. I might work on something else when I'm done with the project at work. Hope your trip is going well. Try not to break too many hearts out there. Take care, Hannah"

  He scrolled down and opened the attachment. It was a photograph of Hannah holding a drawing of The Shifty Seven. He barely looked at the drawing. The only thing he could concentrate on was the girl holding it. She was making a silly face in the background while holding the sketchbook straight-armed in front of her. The cartoon was in focus and she was slightly blurry, and still, all Jason could do was look at her, not the drawing.

  The picture was obviously taken by someone else, and he felt annoyed by the playful familiarity she had with whoever it was. She was sitting on her couch in what looked to be her pajamas, and Jason hoped to God it was one of her girlfriends who took the picture. But what do I care? It isn't really my concern who's in her apartment while she's on her couch in her pajamas.

  He had to make himself focus on the cartoon for a second since that was the whole point of the email, and when he did, he smiled at how much he loved it. She knocked it out of the park. He knew at a glance that the band would be stoked, and he wondered why in the world the email said she was thinking about drawing another one.

  The extent to which he loved her art added to the annoyance he felt at the thought of the mystery picture taker. He knew she was friends with the girl Taylor from work, and he told himself it was probably her who took the picture. But he was still agitated. In his circles, girl on girl was extremely common. From his experience, hot girls had a way of figuring each other out when given enough time alone.

  So he basically didn't want anyone in her apartment while she was on her couch making faces in her pajamas. That was reasonable, wasn't it? Oh, God, no it wasn't. He almost deleted the email. His finger hovered over the delete button, but he couldn't make himself do it. He halfway rolled his eyes at himself as he put the phone back into his pocket.

  He did his best to get into the fights, but couldn't seem to get Hannah off his mind. Just about an hour after he read the email from her, he decided to type a reply. He did this as an attempt to shake her from his thoughts. He wanted some closure so he could go on with his evening.

  "Hello Hannah, The band is going to love this drawing. Please don't waste your time doing another one until they get hooked and hire you again. As far as my abilities to abstain from breaking hearts, I'll do my best. Take care, Jason"

  He told her to take care because she used it with him, and he hated the formality of it. He didn't really like his response, but he sent it anyway, hoping it would help him forget about her altogether. So, why was he checking his email not even five minutes after he sent it to see if she sent anything back? She didn't—at least not right then. It wasn't until he checked again fifteen minutes later that he saw the response from her.

  "I'm so glad to hear you think they'll like it. Thanks for getting back with me on what must be an incredibly crazy night."

  She didn't even sign her name or put take care or anything on that one. And was she mocking him with the whole incredibly busy night thing? God, that girl got under his skin in a way no other girl ever had. Jason scrolled down to the bottom of the chain of emails and opened the attachment again. He looked at it for a few seconds before he muttered a cuss word as he put the phone away.

  "What's the problem?" Cam asked.

  "Nothing," Jason responded. Then he amended,
"Nothing a little swimsuit model won't fix."

  Cam smiled and nodded at the truth of that statement.

  Jason Lane did not, I repeat, did not sleep with one or more swimsuit models that night. He did not do them on a box, or with a fox, or in a house, or with a mouse. He did not do models that night at all, and it wasn't because they didn't show up. They most definitely showed up. They showed up ready for freaking anything, and Jason spent the night in his room being pissed off at Hannah for making him uninterested in the beautiful ladies.

  He wanted to send her an email that told her all about how pissed he was that she was making him miss out on the night's festivities, but he couldn't really do that, now could he? Instead, he put his earbuds in, put a pillow over his head and passed out.

  Chapter 11

  It was five o'clock on Sunday afternoon, and Hannah was in the seclusion of the upstairs theater at Common Grounds. She was almost done with the third of four chalkboards, and hoped to finish the project completely by the next day.

  It had taken longer than she anticipated, but she was extremely excited with the results, and everyone else at the coffee shop seemed to be also. The owner bought really nice chalk for her to work with, and Hannah was shocked at how bright the colors were.

  She was sitting on the floor, covered in the stuff. She massaged the back of her own neck where she felt the sharp ache caused from two days of staring down at chalkboards. Sometimes she worked on them while they were propped up, and sometimes she had them flat on the floor—she tried to switch it up, but it didn't save her from feeling it in her neck and shoulders. She was squeezing her neck when the door flung open, startling her.

  Taylor was standing there with an unreadable expression, which made Hannah reach over and turn down the portable speaker that was sitting next to her.

  "What's up?" Hannah asked.

  "He's downstairs asking about you, and I knew you'd been up here all day, so I wanted to give you a heads up in case you need a breath mint or anything."