11. Stella
CHAPTER 11
STELLA
T wo days later, while I’m working, the doorbell rings, and when I answer it, a delivery truck is already driving off. There’s a box on the welcome mat, which I assume must be Marissa’s, because I’m not expecting anything, but when I pick it up, I find it’s addressed to Wyatt Wilson.
The address doesn’t match ours, either. The house number is one digit off, and the street is the next one over, where Cam and Wyatt live.
I think about texting Wyatt, since I have his number. In fact, the men both messaged me yesterday in a group chat to ask about Goldfish, who’s thankfully back to his normal self. He’s been eating fine, with no more upset stomach.
Since Goldfish is due for a walk, I clip his leash onto his collar, and decide we’ll be good neighbors and deliver the package rather than asking Wyatt to pick it up.
The box isn’t particularly small, but it’s light. Probably a new Nerf gun. Or maybe a LEGO set. I wonder what other kinds of toys they play with.
Then a wicked thought pops into my head. Do they also play with the types of toys grownups play with in the bedroom?
Whoa, where did that come from? I’ve never played with sex toys. I don’t even own a vibrator, but my brain just conjured an image of Cam and Wyatt tying me to a bedpost and tickling me with a feather.
As I turn the corner, I see a couple of cars parked in front of the men’s house and another in the driveway. There are two women in one car, who are sitting there talking with their windows down as I go by. Another woman is standing outside of the next car, leaning against it, her body aimed toward the men’s home.
When I step onto the walkway that leads to the men’s front porch, the standing woman calls out to me. “Hey, who are you? Do you know them?”
I turn, answering automatically, even though I’m bewildered and a little alarmed by the question. “I’m a neighbor. Why?” Did something happen to them?
“Ooh, a neighbor. Lucky you.” The woman nods at me, and I turn and continue up the path. Maybe more fans of theirs?
Several seconds after I ring the doorbell, the inner door is opened, and another female voice greets me. Well, greet isn’t the right word. Actually, quite the opposite.
“What are you doing up here? I told you you need to keep your distance,” the irritated voice warns.
“Excuse me?”
“You can’t keep bothering the men. They’re trying to work.”
“Um …I’m not here to bother them. I’m dropping off a package that was delivered to the wrong house.”
Is this one of their girlfriends? Surely Cam wouldn’t have asked for my number if he’s involved with someone, but maybe she’s Wyatt’s girlfriend.
A face appears behind the screen of the security door, assessing me. “Where do you live?”
“Directly behind here. Next block over.”
The woman’s eyes dart out to the street, before the lock clicks and the door opens. “C’mon in.”
“My dog’s with me,” I say.
“That’s okay. C’mon in, little pooch.” The woman’s tone softens as she takes the package from me and sets it down near the door. “Sorry for the inquisition. Can’t be too careful.”
“What’s going on?”
The woman locks the screen door immediately after she closes it behind me.
“Oh, just the usual. I mean, it doesn’t happen every day, thank god, but once in a while, these women get the idea that they know when the men will be filming, and they hang out trying to get a peek. Some of them even think they might be invited to appear in a video. The guys really need to be more careful about what they say. Or I need to be more careful to edit things out,” she says with a laugh.
She holds out her hand. “Sorry for rambling. I’m Trish, their video editor. I help with their social media management, too.”
“I’m Stella. Nice to meet you.”
“And who’s this?” Trish asks, bending to hold her hand out for Goldfish to smell.
I tell her his name, explaining that my daughter chose it.
“He’s so cute.” She pets him, but Goldfish seems distracted. Maybe he smells the men.
“So you live right behind here?” Trish confirms. When I nod, she says, “Oh, are you the one whose yard was filled with marshmallows?” I nod again, and she says, “I’m so glad your dog is okay.
“I told them to be careful with the marshmallows,” Trish says, “but boys will be boys. I may be the video editor, but my job description should also include wrangling the men.”
I find it interesting that Trish refers to them as boys, and am glad it’s not just me who sees them that way. Trish doesn’t look much older than me, maybe two or three years at the most.
“Some days, I have to remind them to eat,” she says. “Today, they’re building some sort of elaborate stunt. I have no idea what it is. Some kind of Rube Goldberg contraption. And somehow, they made a big mess. Cam came in a while ago covered in mud.”
“Did I hear my name?” Cam appears from a hallway with just a towel around his waist, his hair wet, and the sight of him momentarily knocks the air from my lungs. “I thought I heard your voice, Stella. How are you?”
I can’t even speak for a moment, he looks so good. My god, his chest. I’ve caught glimpses of it from the way he likes to wear his shirts open, but the full view is—my god, I should have been warned.
I try to avoid looking directly at him as I tell him I’m fine. When he asks about Goldfish and crouches down to pet him, I also try really hard not to notice how broad his back is, but I’m not strong enough to look away.
My body is also taking notice, much as I might try to deny it. I give thanks that I’m wearing a well-lined bra, because my nipples are also responding to what I’m seeing.
The sound of a door opening draws my attention toward the back of the house, and then Wyatt joins us. “Stella, good to see you. Everything okay?” His gaze shifts to where Cam is still petting the dog.
“Everything’s fine. I just came by to drop off a package of yours that was delivered to my house by mistake.”
“You could’ve called and I would have come to pick it up, but thank you,” he says.
“We needed to walk, anyway.” I glance down at Goldfish, then peel my eyes away from Cam when they get stuck.
Wyatt’s looking pretty compelling himself, in shorts and a loose tank top. There are smudges of dirt on his arms and legs, and he’s wearing a ball cap backward. He looks so young, yet also so much like a man. It’s kind of confusing.
Cam stands and crosses his arms in front of him, which only makes his biceps bulge further. Speaking of bulges, I may or may not have seen one under his towel, and my cheeks feel like they’re flaming. I want to look again to confirm what I think I saw, but I won’t let myself.
Meanwhile, Trish appears to be unfazed by Cam standing there in a towel, and Cam seems completely at ease.
“Well, I’m glad you came by, because it’s always nice to see you,” Wyatt says, making this sound like much more than a pleasantry. The way he’s looking at me isn’t helping the state of my cheeks.
“I’d better get home. I need to get back to work,” I say.
“It was nice to meet you, Stella,” Trish says, also waving goodbye to Goldfish.
Cam opens the door for me, and his bare arm with all its dark hair is so distracting that I almost trip as I leave. “Hope to see you again soon,” he says. “Stop by anytime.”
When he notices the women standing out front, he waves to them.
“Don’t encourage them, or they’ll never leave,” Trish tells him.
Out on the sidewalk, the women pepper me with questions: “Was that Cam in a towel? My favorite videos are the ones where he’s in a towel.” “Was Wyatt there too?” “Did you take any pictures?”
“I’m just a neighbor,” I tell them as I hurry on by.