by T Gephart
“Because I could see you as my friend, and not just a boyfriend. And I’d want to spend time with you, even if you weren’t in love with me,” I answered honestly, my words almost making me cringe.
Sure, I wanted him to believe me, and when we spoke it was so easy just to forget the bullshit. There was no need to pretend. But I didn’t want to scare him into thinking I was buying into the story. I knew he wasn’t going to fall in love with me, and the best I could hope for was an ongoing friendship and a cool guy friend I could count on keeping it real. And trust me, that was worth more than sex. Which was why I needed to make sure I didn’t accidently sleep with him and screw it all up.
“I like it.” He weighed my words without laughing or ridiculing me. “And reasonable, definitely something your family will buy.”
My head nodded, agreeing with him. Because that was what it was all about, my family buying it. “Can I get you something to drink?” My feet dropped to the floor, feeling the need to stand and change the serious mood the conversation had taken. “You’re probably going to need to learn to drink sweet tea, so that should be the other thing we work on.”
I felt him follow me into the kitchen, leaning up against my counter as I went into my refrigerator and pulled out a pitcher.
“I’ve had sweet tea.” He watched me with interest as I grabbed two glasses and set them down beside him. “They have it at McDonald’s.”
I gasped, pausing before I poured to fully express my horror at his statement. Thank God we’d had this conversation now so we could clear up the misunderstanding.
“Please, that’s like comparing Nike to Jimmy Choo. Sure, both are worn on your feet, but one is functional while the other is a work of art. Once you’ve tasted the real deal, you’ll never want to waste your time with that cheap imposter again.”
Not only was I was glad that I was pouring him tea I had made myself—wowing him with my diversity—but the intensity of the previous conversation had gone.
“Taste.” I tipped the glass of liquid amber toward him. “The secret is not having the water too hot, it burns the leaves.”
He took the glass, the edges of lips lifting as he brought it to his mouth. I watched him drink slowly, closing his eyes as he savored it. He might have said he’d had sweet tea before, but as far as I was concerned he was a virgin and I was his first.
“Wow, that is really good.” His tongue seductively slid across his lips, collecting the remnants. “And yeah, it’s different.”
“Mmm.” I took a sip from my own glass, not sure if my moan of approval was because he enjoyed it, or because my tea was that good. Probably a little of both which was why I took another sip.
“See, this is good for us. It will give me the edge.” He chased down what was left in his glass before setting it down on the counter.
I finished my own drink, putting my glass down to join his. “Well, whatever I can do to help, just let me know. I’m no actress, but I’ve watched enough of them to feel like I can wing it. I’ve helped running lines and even blocked scenes and—”
Oh. My. God.
The rest of sentence was swallowed as his lips hit mine, his tongue teasing against my mouth as I stood there unable to move.
It was a runaway train I had no chance of stopping, my fingers curling and clocking him right in the gut before I realized he was kissing me.
OH MY GOD.
He. Was. Kissing. Me.
My lips still tingled from his, my hand flying up to my mouth as my eyes widened to out-of-skull-popping portions.
“Fuck.” He laughed as he pulled away. “That didn’t go how I’d planned it.”
“I didn’t expect you to kiss me,” I huffed out, my lungs feeling like they needed to get better acquainted with air.
I was horrified.
Completely disgusted.
Not that he’d kissed me. Please, if I’d given myself half a chance I’d have threaded my hands through his hair and fused my lips to his mouth. But he’d taken me by surprise and I’d reacted before I’d had a chance to enjoy it, completely screwing myself out of the opportunity. Not to mention I’d just punched him.
Shit.
My heartbeat tried to regulate itself while my lips begged for another chance.
“Yeah, I guess the element of surprise didn’t go so well.” He chuckled, rubbing his gut lightly. “I just didn’t want you to overthink it.”
I shook my head, still shaking my metaphorical fist at myself. “I’m sorry, I was just surprised. Maybe we can try it again?”
My voice was hopeful but the rest of me could see it was a lost cause. He was probably not going to get any closer until he was fully padded up in a hockey mask and a chest protector. And who would blame him? It’s not every day you kiss a girl and get a right hook as your reward. Thank you, Jesus he hadn’t attempted it out in the living room where I had access to my purse. I’d have probably maced him and left the poor guy partially blind.
L.A. was a dangerous place, and I needed protection.
He hesitated, standing where he was as he looked at me. “Maybe we leave it for now and pick it up later, give my ego a chance to recover. Give me a call and we’ll schedule a time. Hopefully, you’ll be less surprised then.”
“Sure. Of course. I’ll call you.” I nodded, thinking there was no way he was ever going to give me the chance again.
And rather than living in the mortification a second longer, I yawned pretending to be tired which prompted him to say goodnight.
I’d wanted him to stay.
I’d wanted to kiss him.
I’d wanted to do more than that too.
Which was why when he walked out my door, I sagged against the wall and breathed a sigh of relief.
What the hell had I been thinking? He was not a real date, or even a prospect for a real date. He was doing me a favor and would probably run a thousand miles in the other direction if he knew what was going on inside my head.
No, I needed to keep it professional and keep it friendly.
And just to be sure, I’d decided I needed to keep my distance for a while. Because only the Lord knew what would happen if I got him close and alone again.
Like brushing my teeth and showering, not calling Dave Larsson became a ritual I was trying to form into a habit. Because I had no reason to call him, none that was important anyway. And if I wanted the plan to work—the one where I passed him off as my significant other—then I needed to not do anything stupid in the next few weeks. Sleeping with him would qualify as stupid.
There was a whole sea of other men to do that with. I could go and have as much meaningless sex as I wanted to. I wasn’t in a relationship, and I very much doubted a man who looked as amazing as Dave wasn’t partaking in some indiscriminate fishing himself. Even if he had joked he wouldn’t. Of course for me, the desire for frivolous sexual relationships had diminished. I blamed it on being overworked, with my “sea” being polluted by conceited men who were boring and one-dimensional. Funny how I’d never noticed how slim the pickings had been earlier, not that it was important now.
And so passed my days.
Work.
Home.
Not calling Dave.
Not having sex.
It was a good plan which saw the days eat their way into weeks, the date of Lana’s impending wedding getting closer. And I was more excited than I probably should be. Because maybe I couldn’t sleep with him, but after this was over, we could hopefully settle into some kind of friendship.
As long as I didn’t screw anything up.
Just one more day.
All I had to do was get through today, pack and then tomorrow we’d be on a plane. I was either going to convince everyone of my amazing love for him or have him bear witness to a failure of epic proportions.
We hadn’t tested out our “coupledom” yet, that had been my fault. But I was positive that when it counted, we would bring it.
“You avoiding me?” His voice snapped me from my
thoughts, which ironically enough had been about him.
“I’ve been avoiding everyone,” I responded calmly, trying to stop the spike in my pulse as he looked at me. “I have so much work to do and not enough hours to do it in.” I couldn’t help but appreciate how incredibly good he looked, all rugged handsome, wearing jeans, black fitted T-shirt and a few days growth kissing his jaw. “Besides, I fear that if I see normal people flaunting their work/life balance it will be a jealousy I might not recover from.”
He laughed, the light hitting his eyes as he focused on me. “Well, I wouldn’t want to make you jealous. But I had hoped we could have hung out a bit more before . . . the shoot.”
It was something I’d considered too, thinking it would be smart to get in a few more dates before having to play couple for an audience. There was still that kiss we had yet to reattempt. The memory of the first one still lingered on my lips even though it had lasted barely a second. I’m sure the attempted bodily harm probably made the memory less pleasant for him.
But weirdly, I was worried I might blur the lines. Scratch that, I knew that kissing him too soon would definitely blur the lines and didn’t want to risk it. It had been a really long time since I’d been interested in a man beyond a casual acquaintance. And it figured that the first time I felt the spark, it was a man I was paying. Conflict of interest? Sexual harassment? Lord, it was a minefield of shit I couldn’t even begin to decipher.
“I would have liked that too.” I didn’t even bother trying to lie. “But I’ve asked so much already. I know how precious your time is, and besides don’t you have a script to study for your new part?”
The part I was referring to was not his starring role in my tragic love story, but the infamous script I’d dumped on Jeremy’s desk weeks ago. I knew Dave would be perfect for it, and it seemed it had indeed been perfect. After an audition, he’d received an offer yesterday.
The urge to call him and congratulate him with the good news had been almost too much to bear. I’d lost count of the number of times I’d picked up the phone only to drop it again without dialing his number.
His brow rose. “Which is how I know you’re avoiding me. Jeremy called me instead of you.”
“He wanted the glory. Trust me, if you were getting a rejection, it would have been me on the other end of that phone. So, really, it was a good thing he was the one to call.”
I hadn’t totally been avoiding him.
We’d texted and sent a few emails. Plans needed to be made, airline tickets and the like needed to be booked, so I communicated as necessary. But I kept all those conversations completely professional, giving him the information, being as polite as I could, and then disengaging immediately. There were even a couple of times I’d almost cut him off saying goodbye, so intent of keeping it short, sharp and concise because I didn’t want to give him the opportunity to distract me from my mission.
Because I was smart.
“What about the three calls I’ve made to you that weren’t returned?”
Well that had been another story.
Those calls had ended up in my voicemail, replayed from time to time so I could dissect the tone and nuances of his voice. They hadn’t been avoided so much as horded, enjoyed at a private moment when I didn’t have to worry about being on my best behavior. And I fully intended to call him back sooner or later, I just hadn’t gotten around to it yet.
“I emailed, I was trying to be more time efficient,” I joked, trying to laugh it off like it was no big deal. “And did you miss the part when I said I was avoiding everyone? I’m very fragile these days.”
He leaned in closer, bringing his sexiness up close and personal in case I’d missed it when he walked in. Newsflash: I hadn’t. His silent seduction lingered in the air a beat as he looked at me. “I’ll believe a lot of things, but that you are fragile, isn’t one of them.”
“Dave.” Jeremy walked out, saving me from having to respond. “Come into my office and let’s go over your contract. I want to get it squared away as soon as possible.”
“Sure,” Dave responded, keeping his eyes locked on me before casually stepping away. He didn’t say anything else, slowly peeling away his glance before heading into Jeremy’s office, the door closing behind them.
My phone beeped while my gaze was still on the door, the screen lighting up with an incoming message.
I’ll meet you at the airport tomorrow.
Bring your A game because I’ll be bringing mine.
D
Well then.
I hoped he was prepared, because while only one of us had formal training, I wasn’t going to be the one to let down the team.
I was going to need to give the performance of my life.
WE ARRIVED AT SHREVEPORT JUST before four.
I was a bundle of excited nerves leaving LAX. It was like we were on a covert operation or sharing the most awesome of private jokes.
While my mom and dad had offered to pick us up at the airport, I assured them we were renting a car and their welcome party wasn’t necessary. Besides, I wanted to get to the hotel, check in, and drink a daiquiri, or five, before we headed over to the house.
Dave was already in character, hefting both our suitcases off the luggage carousel and barely breaking a sweat in a display of superior manliness. I swore I heard two college-aged girls behind us moan when he helped a mother who was wrestling with a toddler. The kid, who couldn’t have been more than five, was trying to do a runner, Dave grabbing him before he was able to get too far from his mom. I might have moaned myself; it was pretty hot.
He grinned, hearing the appreciation either from the sorority sisters or me as he came to stand by my side. “Where to next, babe?” The last word accompanied by a wink.
“Not babe.” I shook my head, the generic endearment making me want to puke. “I guess pet names was something we should have discussed.”
I didn’t mind terms of endearment if they were genuine and organic. Not babe obviously, which was terrible. But forced mentions of “baby” and “sweetie” just cheapened something that should be special. There were just some things I couldn’t do.
He shrugged, like it was no big deal. “Well, I did try to tell you we needed more time together. But whatever, I can work on the fly. You have something in mind or do I need to just keep tossing them out until we find one you like?”
“No, it will sound forced. Maybe we just stick to our regular names.”
“Whatever you want, sweet pea.” He chuckled, looking pleased with himself.
“Didn’t we just agree to regular names?” I was sure it hadn’t been more than a few seconds since we’d decided. No one’s memory was that short.
He grinned as he shook his head. “I didn’t agree to anything, there’s no fun in normal names. I’ll find one you like, but until then, honey, let’s get out of here.”
“We just have to pick up the rental.” I motioned to the sign for the Enterprise counter, trying to ignore the sweet pea and honey.
Dave lowered our suitcases as the lady behind the counter gave us a bright smile. “Hi there. Do you have a reservation?”
My hand dove into my bag, pulling out my printout. “Yes, Jessica Dawson.”
She tapped on her keyboard and smiled. “Ah yes, four days and I have you down for a Hyundai Elantra.”
I nodded, grabbing my license and credit card when Dave grabbed my arm.
“I’m meeting your family for the first time and we’re showing up in a Hyundai?”
I forced a smile, the words coming out of the side of my mouth as I tried to reassure him and not attract any attention. “It’s just a rental, Dave, trust me, no one is even going to look at the car.”
His brow furrowed, shaking his head as his hand rested on the counter. “You show up in a shitty car, they notice the car. Show up in an awesome car, they notice the man. We’re not taking a Hyundai.” He looked over at the woman, his eyes dropping to her nametag. “Shelia. You have anything else availabl
e? Something with a little more flash?”
Her eyes lit up, her fingers getting busy on the keyboard. “I have a brand new Mustang convertible. It’s red.”
A mustang? Really? Um, no. The whole idea was to fly in, convince my family I was in a relationship and then fly out, attracting as little attention to myself as possible. Driving a freaking red muscle car was the opposite of that.
“We don’t need a convertible. We’ll take the Hyundai.” I waved my card hoping she’d just process the thing, give us the keys and we could get out of there.
“Sweetheart.” Dave wrapped his fingers around my hand and pulled the credit card out of my grasp. His other hand found its way around my waist as he twisted me around. He looked at me with so much intensity that I had no choice but to look back. “I’m meeting your parents, and it’s important to me that I make a good impression. You can understand that, right?”
“I guess,” I squeaked out, not sure if I really understood or not.
“Which is why we’re taking the Mustang.” He planted a soft, chaste kiss on my nose before pulling out his wallet. “Here Shelia, charge it to this and if we can add me as a driver that would be great too.”
Shelia looked to me with a smile, waiting for my approval before taking the card. “The Mustang is a beautiful car, and it does make quite the impression.”
Screw it; I huffed out a breath, not willing to argue about a car. “Fine, we’ll take the Mustang. But you can use my card.”
He went for my hand, taking out my credit card before bringing my fingers to his lips. “Please let me, darling,” his voice dripping with charm.
“Sure.” I didn’t have it in me to stop him. Even though I knew he was acting—a dress rehearsal almost—it had been so incredibly sweet, I just let it happen.
The lady behind the counter looked at us and smiled. “Awww, y’all are adorable.”
I did my best to adequately swoon, but sadly didn’t have the ability to blush on cue. So instead I smiled, giving Dave gaga eyes and hoping I didn’t look deranged. I wasn’t sure I’d ever swooned before, and trying it with an audience for a first time wasn’t easy.