Chapter 8
EIGHT
BIANCA
I can’t get the memory of Waylon’s head between my thighs out of my head the entire night. The thickness of his fingers inside of me, his skilled tongue. The roughness of his voice was what got me the most. It was him, but it was a whole new side of him that I really, really liked.
The next morning, I glance at my toys in my drawer before pushing it closed. I need to get dressed for the Jepsen Festival, not get off to Waylon’s deep voice telling me he loves how wet I’ve gotten.
I turn on the shower, keeping it pretty cold. It doesn’t really work.
I’m getting the hang of dressing Jepsen casual, at least of what I already have. I choose a denim mini-skirt and a red scoop-necked tank top tucked in. It’s still unreasonably hot, so I go with some comfortable wedge sandals. Pinning my hair up is another must.
I check myself out in the full-length mirror I put up near the door. A rush of insecurity comes up from where I’ve tried to banish it. All those years of people picking my looks and body apart aren’t something that can go away in a few seconds. At least I’m out now so I can start handling all that baggage.
My doorbell rings, making Sadie let out a surprised bark. I scoop her up and answer it — it’s Waylon. He looks good in just shorts and a t-shirt, and both are cut just right to show off his muscular frame. His eyes quickly skim up and down my body, lingering on my legs and cleavage for a second before popping up to my face.
I expect it to be awkward after the way things abruptly ended the other day, but it isn’t. A little undercurrent of heat is still there, along with the usual friendliness.
“You look great,” Waylon says.
“You didn’t have to come to the door,” I say, trying to ignore the heat in my cheeks. I’m so not used to guys doing polite stuff like this — opening my door, coming to get me instead of just shooting off a text for me to come outside. The whole gentlemanly thing could be so corny, but he’s just so damn genuine that I can’t be put off by it.
Sadie squirms in my arms, trying to get to Waylon, so I hand her to him while I lock the door.
He just shrugs, petting Sadie between her ears. “Just habit. You ready?”
“Yep.”
He gets to the car first and opens the door for me like he did before, putting Sadie in my lap.
Once he’s on the driver’s side, he pulls out of the driveway and heads toward town. I adjust the fans on the dash to point more toward Sadie, who closes her eyes. Her fur blows around, like she’s in a music video.
“Has it been okay in your house with the AC?” he asks, glancing over at Sadie with a slight smile.
“Yeah, I’ve had the fans going hard. She loves sitting in front of them.” I gently rub her forehead, which I’ve discovered she loves.
“That’s cute.” He turns onto another road, traffic picking up. “If it gets too hot, just let me know and y’all can come to my place to cool off.”
“I might take you up on that.” It’s a different kind of hot here than in LA — humid and heavy.
We sit in comfortable silence, and I try not to look at his hands. But I can’t help it. Why are his hands just gripping the steering wheel enough to make me hot under the collar?
“Can we talk about the bucket list?” Waylon asks. “Just to make sure we’re both on the same page.”
“Sure, yeah.” I swallow. At least he doesn’t want to throw it away entirely. My pussy involuntarily clenches at the memory of his fingers inside me, immediately hitting the sweet spot I’d tried to get Kyler to hit for years.
“We’re keeping this separate from the fake relationship, right?” He turns onto a different road, where we run into traffic. I can see the Jepsen Festival far ahead. “It’s just…friends with benefits with structure?”
I press my lips together, trying not to smile too hard at his description. “Yeah, just that. Nothing serious at all.”
“Okay, cool.” He rakes a hand through his hair. “Not that I thought you felt otherwise, but…y’know.”
“Just wanted to keep things clear. I get it.”
“What else is on the list, by the way?” he asks.
“Oh, jeez. It’s kind of a running list that changes,” I say, even though I know. I’m just too embarrassed to list everything out when I’m stone cold sober in the car. “Phone stuff. Stuff with toys. Other stuff.
“It’s cool. You don’t have to tell me now if you aren’t comfortable,” he says, glancing at me with a smile. “Let’s keep it a surprise, if that’s better? Just let things happen when they happen?”
“Yeah, much better.” Thank god he can pick up on what I’m putting down without me needing to flat out say it every time.
We inch toward the Jepsen Festival and finally make it to the parking lot, which is just an empty field. It’s packed, with families walking hand-in-hand toward the festivities.
I hop out, clipping Sadie’s leash onto her harness so she doesn’t have to be warm in her bag. Waylon takes my other hand, threading his fingers through mine. His hands are toasty warm but not so hot that I want to let go.
“Oh wow, this is big,” I say once we officially cross into the fairgrounds.
I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t all of this. Several large tents are to our right, and a bunch of carnival games are to our left. Way down at the far side directly ahead of us are a bunch of food tents and trucks.
“Yeah, it’s gotten bigger since I was a kid,” he says. “Same rickety rides, though.”
“Is that even safe?” I ask.
“Probably not, to be honest.” He guides us over to the tents to our right. “Do you want to grab photos for social media first, then take a look at everything else?”
“Sure, that sounds good.”
We walk past the tents, which are all setting up for their events or starting them.
“Oh, how cute!” I say, stopping in front of the tent for the baby pageant. Babies are everywhere, many of them dressed in cute costumes. I’ve always liked the idea of babies, but having one isn’t even on my radar right now.
“Wes won this when we were babies,” Waylon says with a laugh. “And Rose got second place.”
“What about you? You were an adorable baby too.” Excessively adorable — a little chubbier than Wes, with big brown eyes and round cheeks.
“I was too fussy.” He runs a hand through his hair and laughs. “It’s hard to be cute when you’re beet red from crying. I got a participation trophy, which my mom probably still has.”
“Wow.” I start walking again so we can make it to the Stryker Liquors booth. “She kept everything, didn’t she?”
“Yeah. At least it was easy to put together my college applications - my mom had a whole record of everything I ever did.”
The Stryker Liquor booth is one of the biggest booths, with a line already building up. I snap a photo of the line, including the sign over the booth, and snag a few of the bartenders serving up drinks. Waylon waits patiently as I style a few drinks, snap a few more photos, and post some things to Instagram stories.
The booth for the shelter is next to it, with just two volunteers handing out information on the shelter and how to donate. I grab a few pics of them too.
“Okay, I’ve gotten everything,” I say, handing Waylon one of the drinks and take a sip of one for me. It’s not as strong as the drinks I had at Wes and Rose’s engagement party, but it’s strong enough that I’m going to feel it. “I think I’m going to need some food with this drink.”
“Do you want something fried, or something fried?” he asks with a smile. “Or something fried and rolled in sugar?”
“All of it.” My stomach growls. “I’ve never had fair food and I haven’t had fried food in god knows how long.”
“Then you’re in the right place.” He threads his fingers through mine again and we walk over to the food.
For a relatively small town, they have a ridiculous number of restaurants and food trucks. They even printed off a mini map of all the available food.
“Where do we even start?” I ask, looking at the map. “I don’t know what I want to eat or what’s good.”
“I know the catfish nuggets are popular every year if you want to start somewhere.” He puts a hand on my back and gently guides me out of the flow of foot traffic before people bump into me.
“I’ve never had catfish, so let’s do that. What’s it taste like?” I check the map and find the catfish nugget booth.
“Like catfish.” He laughs and we start toward the booth. “I honestly don’t know how to describe it. It’s a white fish. Salty. Crispy. Really damn good.”
We reach the booth when the line is short, and in a few moments, we have a paper tray of little golden balls of fish and perfectly cooked fries. We find a standing table and he pushes the food toward me. Sadie lays down at our feet.
He hands me a fork after I snap a picture of the food, his body and hands in the frame.
“Mind if I post this?” I show him the photo and he nods. “Thanks.”
“Try it first.” Waylon offers me the fork after I’m done posting.
I spear a nugget and lift it to my mouth. It smells good, like fish but not in a bad way. Waylon keeps his eyes on me while I pop it into my mouth.
“Oh, that’s really good,” I say, holding a hand in front of my mouth so he doesn’t see me chewing. “Wow.”
“Yeah?” He smiles and snags a nugget for himself. “Does it live up to your dreams?”
“Considering I never even thought of catfish until today, no. But in terms of fried food, absolutely.” I snort and take a fry. “The modeling bubble I was in made the world feel weirdly small. I got to eat at some of the best restaurants in the world, but everything was very regimented. I had to keep my body at a very specific size.”
I take another nugget, savoring the saltiness and the texture. How did I live without fried food? I like to eat pretty healthy, but in the past, any indulgent foods stressed me out. It meant being pinched and prodded, or the clothes not fitting the way the designer intended.
I dunk two fries into our ketchup and savor those too. I’m glad to leave that part of my life in the past forever. Something so simple as catfish nuggets shouldn’t make me feel so free but they do.
“That sounds really hard. I can’t imagine it.” He shakes his head. “I think that would ruin all the other perks, like the travel to cool places.”
“Yeah, it did.” I shrug. “But now I can eat whatever and it feels really good. No more worrying if some assistant will tell me she wished she could reshape my ass. To my face.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Someone said that to you?”
“Yeah, not that weird to me. But definitely weird to others.”
The disbelief on Waylon’s face almost makes me laugh. “I wonder how they can live with such wrong opinions.”
Okay, I can’t hold back a laugh at that. “Well, thank you.”
I’ve never thought my ass was anything special — if anything, it was an inconvenience for my job — but I’m glad he likes it.
“So you’re opening a spa with your best friend after this instead of going back to modeling??” he asks after taking a few fries.
“Yeah,” I say quietly, as if saying it louder will somehow curse me. “We’re planning on opening it in New York since she already lives there and I like it there.”
“That sounds cool. I don’t know anything about spas, but I’m sure you know what you’re doing.”
His complete confidence in me is completely unwarranted, but I appreciate it. So far it’s only him and Kaitlyn who have encouraged me. Not that my parents are actively discouraging me, but whenever I bring it up, they want to dive in and help with things I can do myself.
“You’re sweet,” I say instead of telling him all that.
He shrugs. “Just saying what I think.”
The easiness of this — both the conversation and the silence in between — should be throwing up red flags for me. I never, ever get along with people this quickly and easily, aside from Kaitlyn. And the fact that it’s Waylon, the guy I have a little sex pact with, feels like I’m walking into the beginning of a problem.
“You want to try something a little sweet?” he asks. “I’m not sure what dairy-free options they have, though.”
“We can look.”
We go over to a booth a few spots down that has donuts and some vegan options. The crowd has gotten bigger, so the line is winding all the way into the flow of foot traffic.
“Want me to grab a table?” he asks. “I see a free one over there.”
“Sure, yeah.”
He tells me to just get any donut with chocolate and disappears. I check on the social media posts that I put up, then check an email from Kaitlyn. She’s excited to get started, but knows I still need time. But I don’t want to leave her waiting for too long.
I take a deep breath and tuck my phone back into my purse. Everything is so open-ended. Now I’m here to fake date Waylon for at least another two months, but after that, it’s all unclear. Will I feel more ready to dive into an entirely new life by then?
I step up to the front of the line and order our treats — donuts for him, and a vegan donut for me. The donut is surprisingly good and not crumbly dust. Not too sweet either.
I turn and scan the crowd to find Waylon, but stop dead when I see him. He’s talking to a woman and the pure ice between them takes my breath away. Clearly, they know each other, just from how close together they’re standing. Or rather, how close the woman is standing to him. Waylon’s body language is standoffish. The woman flicks her dark brown hair over her shoulder and crosses her arms over her chest.
I can’t read her lips, but whatever she says pisses Waylon off. His eyes narrow and fill with anger, then hurt.
Whoever this woman is, she can get fucked.
I march over, trying to pull myself together so I don’t tear her a new butthole from the jump. Instead, I plaster on a smile and lightly squeeze Waylon’s bicep.
“Babe, I got the donuts,” I say, my voice overly sweet. He can probably tell I’m being over the top, but this woman doesn’t know me. “Sorry, who is this?”
The woman looks me up and down in that bitchy mean girl who’s going to be fake nice kind of way. I hate her even more now, even though that’s extreme. Waylon radiates patience and kindness, so anyone who can smack that out of him must be a shitty person.
“Catherine.” She extends her hand and gives me a limp handshake. “And who are you?”
“Bianca,” I say. “His girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend.” Catherine narrows her eyes at me, then at Waylon. “That’s new.”
“It is.” Waylon takes the donuts and puts them on the long picnic table. “Not that it’s your business anymore.”
She half-rolls her eyes. “We can’t magically erase the past.”
“But you can ignore it, can’t you?” I ask, getting between her and Waylon so I can sit on the bench. She steps back, eyes widening. I didn’t touch her, but she looks like she’s been slapped. “Super sorry, but we’re kind of in the middle of our date. Can’t this wait?”
Catherine’s cheeks get red as she stares at me, but I don’t back down. It helps that I’m several inches taller than her, so just getting a little close to her makes her back up. Waylon’s hand rests on my shoulder, his thumb brushing the back of my neck.
“Whatever.” She leaves and Waylon’s body relaxes behind me.
“Sorry,” he mumbles, taking a seat across from me. “She snuck up on me.”
He takes a bite of his donut, his mood still low. I eat too, unsure of what to even say.
“Your ex?” I finally say, even though I know the answer.
“Yep.” He sighs through his nose and throws back the rest of his drink, his nose wrinkling.
His expression has gone from hurt to blank, which is almost more disturbing. I got the sense that he and his ex didn’t end of good terms since he said he wasn’t about relationships these days, but they must have ended on horrid terms. I can’t imagine him being with someone like her. I get that people change, and from what I understand, it’s been several years since they’ve been together.
But even seeing them side by side feels odd. She just seems like a mean person.
I can tell he doesn’t want to talk about it, as nosy as I am, so I nudge him with my knee instead of asking him more.
“Do you want to try some of the rides?” I ask.
“Right after eating?” A little ghost of a smile comes back onto his face, and it warms me from the inside out. “Is that a bucket list thing? Getting sick on an ancient fair ride that’s probably breaking at least four safety regulations?”
“Okay, maybe not right now.” I snort. “But maybe we can play a few games?”
“Yeah, let’s do this.” He polishes off his donut, and I finish mine.
I might not be the cheerful one between the two of us, but I can try to save the rest of the day.