Chapter 15
Lana
I hadn’t really slept that night, and the next morning, I was staring at my ceiling, just contemplating everything that had happened with Callan.
My mind wouldn’t stop replaying it. His hands, the way he touched me, the look in his eyes when he said he was attracted to me.
Every detail had stayed burned into me. It made me feel raw, like something had cracked open and I didn’t know how to close it again.
Deep down, I didn’t really want to, anyway.
Holland moved next to me, and I turned my head to look at her. Her blonde hair was all over the pillow, and she looked as beautiful as ever with that sleepy look on her face. She blinked and rubbed her eyes, then she groaned and rolled over toward me. “I hate waking up.”
I chuckled and pulled the blanket up to my chin. “I know you do. You complain about it every morning. But at least you know you’re alive.”
“I’d rather die,” she joked. Once up, she’d just complain about wanting to sleep.
“Have you been up for long?” she asked as she scooted closer until her head rested next to mine on my pillow. Her arm came over my stomach in a lazy half-hug.
“Yeah,” I said quietly.
She squinted at me, then frowned. “You look like you didn’t sleep at all.”
“I didn’t.” I hesitated, unsure if I should tell her. The truth was, Holland always had the best advice, and maybe telling her what happened with Callan over the past two days would help me decide what to do. I took a deep breath and sighed. “I’ve been thinking about Callan.”
That woke her up. Her eyes were open wide. “What about him?”
I exhaled slowly, trying to piece the night together in a way that didn’t sound completely insane. “After you fell asleep, I went downstairs to clean up. He was in the kitchen. We talked, and…something happened.”
Her brows drew together. “Something?”
I nodded.
“Well? Tell me.”
My body tensed. “He touched me. Well, I touched him first the night before, but he made me touch him, and then he put me on the counter and—”
“Whoa, girl, slow down.” She laughed and sat up. “Start from the beginning.”
I laughed nervously and sat up to face her, keeping the blanket around my body. Then I told her every detail and watched her face frow increasingly amused. When I was done, she was grinning. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, first of all…that’s so hot. I know he’s, like, your stepdad—”
“Ex-stepdad.”
“No difference.”
There was a difference, even if it was small. But I let it slip this time.
“Anyway. He’s hot, and if he’d touch me, or make me touch him the way he did with you, I’d totally be okay with it. And…” She stopped and thought about her next words before continuing. “You should let it happen.”
I frowned and looked at my hands for a while before meeting her eyes again. “Why?”
“Because letting him close would literally be an empowerment for you.”
Her words didn’t make much sense to me, so I waited for her to explain.
“Think about it. You said he had two girls on his knees in front of him, but he couldn’t get it up until he let himself look at you. He got frustrated, even though he literally had two naked women before him. Whatever’s wrong with Callan, you’re the one giving him what he needs.”
I was following her better now, but it still didn’t click in my mind. “What if he’s just using me?”
“Does it feel like he is using you?” she asked.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, he said he wasn’t.”
“And he basically admitted to you that your touch got him harder than his actual costars. Without even being naked.”
She had a point, and for once, I was starting to feel a sense of power. Still, I wasn’t sure how all that was going to work when I sat on that set for something way more innocent.
“If I were you, I’d let it happen and see where things go. It’s not like there’s feelings involved, right?”
I studied my hands again. “Not really. I mean, I’m confused. And he’s…”
“A super-hot guy.”
I laughed softly. “Holls…”
“I’m not wrong, and you know it.” She grabbed my hands and pulled them to her lap.
“He’s been in this business forever,” she continued.
“He’s probably done every scenario, every fantasy, every role.
But then you come along, and suddenly he can’t even fake it unless he sees your face.
That’s not him using you. That’s him needing you. ”
I frowned. “What if it’s all in my head?”
“It’s not. You said he told you himself that he was hard because of you.” She smirked. “Do you know how insane that is for someone like him to admit? That’s not a try at manipulation, that’s a damn confession.”
I looked at her for a while, feeling something shift in my chest. I wasn’t sure if it was relief or fear.
She tilted her head. “You’ve always been careful, Lana. Always trying to do what’s right, or safe, or normal. But maybe you need to stop thinking about what it means and just feel it. See what happens. Maybe it’s not about him at all. Maybe it’s about you taking control of something for once.”
I studied her, trying to see if she was serious. And she was. Completely.
She grinned suddenly. “Oh my god. You could totally become his fluffer.”
I blinked. “His what?”
She started laughing. “You don’t know what a fluffer is?”
I shook my head.
“Okay, so in porn, a fluffer’s the person who keeps the guys hard between takes. Like, you know, touching, teasing, whatever helps him stay ready for the camera.”
I stared at her. “That’s…a real job?”
“Totally. Some people make good money from it. But in your case…” she gave me a mischievous look, “…you’d be doing it for personal gain.”
I groaned and dropped my face into my hands. “Holland, oh my god.”
She grinned wider. “I’m serious! Imagine this: He’s filming, you’re sitting in the corner taking notes for your essay, and then he calls you over because you’re the only one who can keep him hard. You’d have him wrapped around your finger.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“It’s not ridiculous. It’s pretty fucking hot. And powerful.” She reached out to grab my arms. “You’d stop feeling like the quiet one in the room. You’d stop being the observer. You’d be the one controlling what happens. That’s what I mean by empowerment.”
I was quiet for a long moment. Her words stirred everything I was feeling, and something dangerous yet tempting began to brew. “And what if it messes everything up?” I asked finally.
She shrugged. “Then it messes things up. So what? You’ll survive, and you have nothing to lose. But at least you’ll know you didn’t hide from it.”
I leaned back against the headboard, letting the weight of what she said settle in me. “You make it sound so easy.”
“It kind of is,” she said softly. “You already know what you want. You’re just afraid to admit it.”
I looked at her. “And what if what I want is wrong?”
“Own it,” she said simply, shrugging. “You truly have nothing to lose. And to be honest, I don’t think he’ll say no to you. I saw the way he looked at you. And how he touched you last night. He’s totally into you.”
My heart hammered in my throat, and I was already mentally preparing for my next move. I couldn’t just go up to him and say, Hey, Callan, I want to be your fluffer. That’d be too weird.
Still, I wasn’t as opposed to the idea as I initially thought. Holland was right. I had nothing to lose, and I always took the safe route. It was time to have some fun for once in my life.
***
“It’s freakishly quiet down here,” Holland said as we reached the bottom of the stairs.
She was right. The filming room door was open, but the space behind it was empty.
“They must’ve left,” I said, glancing toward the living room. Even the lights had been turned off, which was unusual.
“That’s…weird,” she said, stepping forward and peeking into the kitchen. “Like, I can actually hear myself think.”
I smirked. “That’s new for you.”
“Ha ha.” She flicked my arm and then went straight for the coffee machine. “I’ll make the caffeine. You make the food.”
“Sure,” I said, opening the fridge. “What do you want for breakfast?”
She leaned against the counter, pretending to think. “Eggs Benedict, bacon, blueberry pancakes, and an acai bowl.”
I looked over my shoulder at her. “Would you like freshly squeezed orange juice with that? Maybe handpicked strawberries from the garden?”
She smiled. “Actually, yeah. Sounds perfect.”
I shut the fridge and laughed under my breath. “You’re getting eggs and bacon. And yogurt if you behave.”
“Fine, I’ll take it. It’s better than nothing.”
While I cooked, Holland set the table and then sat on the counter to watch me perfect my scrambled eggs.
“This feels nice,” Holland said. “Like we’re in one of those cheesy roommate sitcoms. Minus the porn house aspect.”
“Don’t ruin it,” I said, flipping the bacon. “I could get used to the quiet.”
“You can’t deny that your living situation is way more fun than mine.”
I shrugged. “I didn’t really choose mine. But I guess it’s nice not having to worry about rent every month.”
“You’re lucky.” She sighed. “We should switch lives.”
“That sounds fun, but you’d hate being me.”
“What? Never. You’re totally fun. And nothing about you is boring. You read fifty books a week, you eat healthy, you stare at the stars every night—”
“Stop mocking me,” I warned with a shake of my head and a small laugh. “You wouldn’t make it one day being me.”
“You’re probably right.” She grinned. “But if we’d switch for just a day, I’d definitely try my luck with Buster Ace. I’d let him fuck me. Just once, you know? Just to be able to say that I had sex with an actual porn star.”
“Fair enough,” I said under my breath. “Pass me the plates.”
We ate breakfast slowly, talking about random things, and when the plates were empty, I stood to rinse them in the sink, and that’s when my phone started buzzing on the counter.
I picked it up and groaned. “It’s my mom.”
Holland perked up. “Ooh. This will be fun. Put her on speaker.”
I shook my head, but when I answered, I decided Holland was allowed an insight into how crazy my mom was. “Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, honey.” Her voice was cheerful as always, and it put an immediate frown on my face. “How are you?”
I knew she didn’t really care about how I was doing. As soon as I answered, she’d ask about Callan.
“I’m fine.”
“Oh, good. Listen, I heard Callan is working on a new movie. Has he done the casting yet?”
My eyes flicked to Holland, who was staring at me wide-eyed and in disbelief.
I sighed. “Mom, you should ask him that yourself. I’m not his assistant.”
“But you’re there every day. I know you know what’s going on. Come on, tell me, Lana.”
My brows furrowed even more, and my gut twisted when I realized that she was slurring her words. Not too much, but enough to notice. “It’s ten in the morning,” I said, my voice tight. “You’re drunk.”
“Oh, please, don’t start with that shit, Lana. Where’s Callan?”
“I don’t know,” I hissed through gritted teeth.
Holland’s face tightened. She didn’t look pleased with how my mother was talking to me. “Hang up,” she mouthed.
I wanted to, but then my mother spoke again. “You’re both under the same roof. You should know what he’s up to.”
“I don’t care about what he’s up to, Mom. I never have.”
“You’re a liar. I didn’t raise a liar—”
“You didn’t raise me in the first place.” My words hung heavy between us, and while I didn’t mean to hurt her feelings, I definitely hurt mine with the truth.
“You’re a little brat, you know that? I did so much for you. I gave everything to give you a good life, and now look where you are, and where I am!”
Great, now she was blaming me for her problems. I was at a loss for words, and my chest felt like it was being stabbed with a large knife.
“You live in a huge house and get everything for free, and you have the audacity to tell me that I didn’t raise you? You’re a witch, Lana. A selfish, arrogant witch. Now get Callan on the phone so I can tell him just how disrespectful you are. He needs to punish you for talking to me like that.”
“Lana, hang up,” Holland told me. I had never seen my best friend look so angry.
My eyes watered, and I gripped my phone tighter. “He’s not here.” My voice was shaky, and so was my hand when I lowered the phone to hang up.
Holland stood immediately and came to hug me, holding me while I let my emotions settle.
“Nothing she said is true. You know that, right?”
I didn’t respond. I just leaned more into her and closed my eyes. I focused on my breathing, scared that if I let them overcome me, this situation would only worsen.
“She’s not well, and she’s just letting it out on you. Don’t let her get to you, Lana.”
I wouldn’t, even though it was hard.
The more I reminded myself of who my mother was, the bigger the urge for revenge became. And maybe it was childish, but I couldn’t let her behavior slide. It wasn’t okay for her to treat me this way, blame me for her issues, and not once apologize.
“Come on,” Holland said, rubbing my back. “You need to forget she called. I say we take showers, pack some snacks, and maybe hit the beach.”
I loved her for that. As unserious and crazy as Holland sometimes was, I could always rely on her to make me feel better.
I smiled and gave a small nod. “Sounds good.”