3. Aaron
THREE
AARON
In between takes is not the time to dwell on what happened this morning, but what do you want from me? It’s not every day you wake up with an ass in your hands that isn’t your girlfriend’s. Even worse, it’s your best friend’s ass. And when it feels so much better than it should? It’s been hard enough not to fixate on it the entire day as is. Being bored as fuck, wandering around the set when we’re not rolling, it’s hard to keep my mind from straying to it.
I keep half an ear out for my director’s voice, waiting to hear that we’re ready to restart the shot, but since one of my costars insisted on eating some very questionable street food for lunch instead of what craft services provided, and had to run off set mid-take… I think I’ve got a few minutes.
Let’s just hope wardrobe doesn’t have to get involved. There’s no helping the shudder that breaks out along my spine, or the chills that accompany it as I say a silent thanks to the powers that be that my job doesn’t ever require me to deal with shit-stained pants.
The elephant in my mind’s room pops back up, front and center, and it’s impossible to ignore. The way I felt this morning, waking up with Gemma’s back pressed against my front, that stirred things in me I never expected to feel for…her. Gemma Carson. The only girl who knows all of me. Not just what the whole world sees as the boy next door turned budding sex symbol as he passed eighteen in the public eye, then twenty-one, and beyond.
She knows the nerdy kid who never got to put down roots and make real connections with boys his age after moving to the Atlanta area to follow his dreams in middle school. The man who’s still that same kid deep down. The one who deals with insecurities that loom larger than anyone else realizes, who would rather be sitting on the carpet at home playing video games than walking a red carpet with celebs he grew up worshiping. She’s the one constant I’ve had in my life, throughout all of the changes. And that can’t change.
All I know is if I hadn’t gotten up right then and there this morning, I might’ve done something really stupid. Like cheat on my girlfriend. Or worse, risk what Gem and I have. The comfortable, platonic type of bond that only comes with choosing to spend so much of your time joined at the hip with another person, day in and day out, for years on end. It’s the kind of bond that’s been strengthened with every hardship either of us has faced while standing in one another’s corner and supporting each other through the shit when no one else was there for either of us.
What we’ve never done? Flirted with the line of physical attraction. That’s been a stone-cold no for me since we first met. It’s not that she’s not objectively pretty. I guess she is. She’s got this soft innocence I’m sure a lot of guys would be into. Long brown hair. Big doe eyes, the color of warm tea when you’re sick, like comfort and care, like home. Cute little nose. Kinda tall for a chick, but tiny still, hardly any curves. A lot of models would kill for her frame. I know. I’ve hooked up with plenty of them who’ve told me as much. So it’s not that Gemma isn’t attractive. I just haven’t ever viewed her like I view the girls I hook up with.
She’s always been in a category of her own to me. I care for her like a sister. Well, I don’t have one, so I can’t be sure, but I’m pretty sure just the same. She’s on her own pedestal in my life. My rock. Who I go to when I struggle with the very specific issues my career choices and subsequent lifestyle bring. Who I go to when I have a really stupid joke that I just have to share. Who I wait to watch new Marvel movies or episodes of our current favorite show with, no matter how long my schedule keeps me away from home or our weekly ritual.
Our friendship is a thing of sanctity; it’s not worth risking for anything. No matter how much my cock wanted to find its way home, sink itself between her thighs, and give her a reason to say my name in that breathy way again, but a little louder this time.
NO. Fuck, no. What the fuck is wrong with you, Stone? I have never looked at Gem sexually before. And I definitely don’t see her in the same light as the girls I mean to wake up with. Like Kayla . My girlfriend.
The voice in my head is shouting at me now, it sounds condescending as it reminds me of my life, those in it, and the boundaries I keep with each of them.
Gemma = friend.
Kayla = girlfriend.
Maybe introducing the two will help reform those boundaries, stop those lines from blurring?
One of my hands slaps my forehead in frustration—a little too hard, perhaps—as my eyes sting from the contact. I’ll gladly take that pain right now, though. I deserve it.
Fuck, you’re an asshole, you absolute dickwad. Not only did you actually toss Gem onto the floor because you couldn’t control your own boner, but you’ve been practically cheating on Kayla mentally all fucking day with this shit. Get. A. Grip.
My right fist clenches and unclenches as I berate myself, seeking an outlet for this frustration, this self-abuse that has no other release. There’s no one I can talk to about what’s driving me crazy. It would kill Kayla to hear what happened. Even if it were just a mistake, something tells me she wouldn’t see it that way. And I’d rather eat exactly what Jane had for lunch directly before shooting an intimate scene in front of an entire crew than have to talk to Gemma about this awkward morning ever again.
Gem couldn’t have known what she was doing, how her hips backed into mine so perfectly, circling on my damn erection like a fucking missile finder. How she sounded when she called out my name? Jesus Christ. It’s the stuff wet dreams are made of. Or maybe, more accurately, custom OnlyFans videos? I dunno, never bought one. But I can imagine.
Was she still sleeping? Did she wake up and forget whose house she fell asleep at?
We don’t discuss our love lives very often. We see inside every crevice of each other’s lives, so a little bit of separation is necessary, right? A little bit of delineation, that tiny bit of space, some semblance of a boundary between us, is healthy. I mean, I know she sees guys from time to time. In the past, I’ve even encouraged her to get out and date a little more, so maybe she’s done just that? Maybe she thought I was one of her hookups? Is she hooking up with some guy called Aaron?
I chalk up the uncomfortable wrench in my gut at the thought of her hooking up with someone to her being like a sibling to me. Her hooking up with someone else is not a comforting thought.
Dammit!
Someone. Period.
Not someone else .
My subconscious is fucking me over left and right today. Her hooking up with anyone is gross. Right?
It didn’t feel gross when your dick was inches from her p— a violent shake of my head stops that thought from finishing, and a frustrated groan escapes me. I feel like I’m losing control of my thoughts here, and I am not a fan of the direction this runaway train is going.
It’s been…a while since she’s mentioned a guy to me. Would I even know if she had a partner? I’m pretty sure she dates on the DL, we just don’t talk about it. Right? Surely she hasn’t been alone for…gosh, what must be two years now? No way.
As much as I try not to think about her, erm, love life, she is a chick at the end of the day. I’ve dated enough of ’em to know they’ve got needs, just as much as men do. A lot of ’em have even more needs than we do. I just don’t ever think of her needs.
After hours of deliberation, I’ve come to the conclusion she was still sleeping, and just having a rather graphic dream. That’s the only thing that makes sense.
One thing is for sure. She would never do something as blatant as rub up on my cock and call my name like that, like she was beckoning me to fill her, like she needed me inside her in order to take her next breath. It gives me chills just remembering the desperate quality to her voice. I’ve never dared to imagine that she could make a sound like that, and it threw me for a serious loop.
I mean, yeah, I know she’s kinda had a little crush on me at times over the years. Seeing your best friend become one of America’s sweethearts has to be confusing, especially paired with teenage hormones and those coming-of-age experiences that put all sorts of ideas in our heads, but she’s never wanted to act on that crush before. As far as I can tell, the last crush she had on me ended maybe three years ago, when she started dating some kid she met through a friend at college, Eduardo. She never told me much about the relationship, but I was thankful he took her attention off me, truth be told. The last thing I’d ever want to do is risk our friendship, or (God forbid) break her heart by turning her down. And I just don’t see her like that.
I guess I should say I never had seen her like that. When I woke up this morning, her tight stomach in my hand, her small little ass pressed up against me, my body didn’t even really register who it was before I got a raging boner. By the time I’d put two and two together and realized it was my little Gem and not Kayla I was holding, it was too late. The thoughts were already racing through my head, and my dick had a mind of its own. One head didn’t consult the other, if you know what I mean.
Not gonna lie, it took me a few minutes for my brain to catch up and for me to realize how inappropriate and potentially dangerous our position was. I’ve never been a cheater and don’t plan to become one, but I can honestly say that’s the closest my dick has ever been to someone who wasn’t my girlfriend, a current fling, or a costar while filming an intimate scene. But even then, I’ve got a genital guard on. There wasn’t much stopping me from making a mistake this morning.
Sleepovers used to be pretty common for her and me, but the past few years, I’ve tried to put a little more distance between us in situations like this. I mean, Gem’s still got a dedicated room at my place with a dresser full of clothes so she’d stop borrowing my tees and sweats whenever she would crash over, but she hasn’t had to use them in a while. So how we ended up spooning on my couch, my limbs wrapped around her like they were meant to be there? I have no clue. Last thing I remember was trying to keep my eyes open for just one more episode. Evidently, I failed at that task, and she must’ve, too.
But, wow. I did not expect the reaction my body gave me this morning, and it’s been impossible to get it off my mind. In hair and makeup, I actually got a stiffy remembering how her slim little hips felt in my hands, how she didn’t get up when I told her to, grinding against me again instead. Fuck. When she still didn’t move, I was desperate to get her away from me before I did something colossally stupid, and I just shoved.
It wasn’t my smoothest move, but those are usually reserved for getting girls into my bed, not throwing them out of it. I just couldn’t let her wake up and realize what was happening and be embarrassed. She definitely woke up when I tossed her to the floor, though. I readjusted myself as fast as I could before she noticed the situation going on in my pants (luckily) and ran to the bathroom.
I’m pretty sure I told her I had to piss or some shit. Fuck if I know what came out of my mouth at that point.
I would’ve died if she saw I had a boner. For her. I’ve shared a bed with her regularly since we were twelve, and this has never, ever happened as adults. Not since I was about fourteen, and a stiff breeze got me going. And we definitely didn’t wake up cuddling in those days, ffs. We both just pretended she didn’t notice my woody back then. I can only hope I have that kind of luck today.
I’m pretty sure I played it off, and she didn’t even notice. I think. She might have started to realize her dream held some elements of reality in there, because she did call my name before I started running away. Or did I just hope for that? I don’t even know, I’ve been so fucked up since my eyes opened this morning.
Away, away, away were the only words my brain kept shouting at me once the gravity, the vulnerability of our position, hit me, and I listened. I ran to the bathroom, started the shower, grabbed my clothes for the day, and took a hot, hot shower to try to get my mind off it. Except, I couldn’t kill the boner. And the guilt has just been eating me alive ever since.
Now, on set, plagued with memories of this morning, I unclench my fist—the muscles are getting sore—and run that hand through my hair, trying not to disrupt the stylist’s hard work at getting that careless look just right . But, fuck, I really need to let some steam off here.
This morning, I ended up jerking one out in the shower, my mind thoroughly, thoroughly focused on Kayla’s perfect deep pink lips, those thick hips, that round ass that she loves to tease me with—and let’s be real, that I love to be teased by—and it worked…
Right up until just before I came.
Just as my balls tightened, no chance of stopping that release in that moment, a very different ass popped into my mind. One that had just been pressed up against me. The cause of that very, very unexpected and inappropriate hard-on. And that ass was all I could see and remember feeling, her breathy call of my name ringing in my ears as my cock squirted jets of thick cum all over the stone wall of the shower.
It was confusing as fuck , and to say I’ve been feeling guilty ever since would be an understatement.
I think I told Gem after that shower that Kayla might be the one? God, I’m an idiot. I mean, things are good between us, but I’m not ready to declare anything like that yet. But this guilt, this feeling that I did something wrong, is eating me alive.
And after that oh-so-awkward breakfast, I may or may not have sent Kayla a bouquet of the most expensive flowers the florist had available.
I even did it myself, no asking my assistant to do it for me, for the first time in my life. The fact that I’m not ready to face said assistant, even via text, may or may not have anything to do with it.
Don’t fucking @ me, okay?
I know what you’re thinking. How’ve you been dating someone for months and the one person who sees inside every avenue of your life, the one who is by your side for ninety percent of it, had no clue?
It’s because I keep my dating life separate from her, and I have for a few years now, okay? I even ask whatever girl I’m talking to at the moment not to message me unless I message her first, as it’s not me who has my phone two thirds of the day. It’s—you guessed it—Gem.
Again, I’ve been trying for healthy boundaries. We share everything else with one another. But that’s, just, an area we don’t go into. It’s not like she talks to me about her sex life, either.
Ugh. Shudder .
Poor choice of words. Great. Now I can’t stop picturing her having sex.
Fuck me.
Why? The word is a total wailing groan inside my head. I don’t have a single inappropriate thought about the chick for a dozen years, and now, in one day, it’s like whatever barrier in my brain between her and the other girls in my life has broken down, and all the images are morphing and merging.
The point is, I want to be with Kayla, and I want her to know it. I want both of them to know it. So tonight, they’ll officially meet.
While Kayla and I have been dating for about six weeks this time, we were together for a good four months or so before, until we broke up. I don’t even remember why. I’m pretty sure we said generic shit like we need to see who we are without each other , and my filming schedule is so busy, it’s not fair to you . I dunno. It was bullshit, whatever it was. After being away from her for all that time, I realized how good I’d had it with her. Someone I had fun with, who I had great sex with. Chemistry, laughter, all the things that are supposed to make a relationship last, right?
Yeah, we had minor issues with her being wary of my closeness with Gemma, and I feel like there was something else that helped split us apart, too, but fuck if I can remember what it was. Must not have been that big of a deal. But since she slid back into my DMs, it’s like that time apart didn’t even count. It feels like we’ve been together this whole time. I didn’t really fool around with anyone else during that time, and maybe that’s part of it. She’s the only girl I’ve been with in close to a year. It feels like forever. But now it’s like we’re picking up where we left off, with six months of absence to make the heart grow fonder.
Things have been hotter than ever between us. We’ve hooked up almost every day for the last month, and she’s been down for phone sex those nights I couldn’t make it over. Come to think of it, last night might’ve been the first time I haven’t gotten off in weeks, and that’s probably why I had the unmanageable chub from hell this morning.
I let out a literal sigh of relief at the realization, instantly feeling better, finding the reason for the bizarre morning, my guilty conscience.
I remember how disappointed she was when I told her I was gonna hang with Gem last night and I’d see her today instead. That cute little pout she gave me. Maybe she had a point. These Sunday night hangouts might not be a great idea now that I’ve got a steady girlfriend. I should be with my girl instead, right?
In fact, I wonder if Kayla can swing by my trailer for a quickie in between shots this afternoon? I should text her. And then add her to the approved visitors list with security so we can do this more often, now that the cat’s out of the bag.
Yeah. Seeing Kayla is a good plan. Screwing her is an even better one. That’ll make this shit right again. I give myself a mental high five at the genius plan, ’cause I deserve it.
Jane finally reemerges on set, looking a little paler than usual, but nothing the holy trinity of makeup, lighting, and post can’t fix up. I shoot her a reassuring grin as she slowly makes her way back toward our places, and shake my head and bounce in place to get back in the zone.
This morning had nothing to do with the other her. I hope if I keep repeating it, I’ll eventually believe myself.