Chapter 26
26
I’m sitting in Caleb’s romantic chalet, with Caleb (who is objectively gorgeous), by a lovely warm fire, eating chocolate, drinking wine, surrounded by a whirlwind of free products, clothes, accessories – all sorts of things. Oh, and I’m getting paid for it. A situation like this should, in theory, make any woman the horniest she has ever been, right? At least from the point of view of writing spicy scenes, but despite Caleb agreeing to help me try to get the ball rolling, nothing is happening.
‘I hear it happens to everyone,’ I joke.
Caleb smiles. He’s lounging on the couch, looking every bit the cool-guy influencer he is, while I’m staring at the empty notebook he gave me, trying to figure out how to even begin writing a spicy scene.
‘Tell me what the characters are doing,’ Caleb suggests.
‘Well, they’ve just found themselves trapped in a beach hut together, and it has forced them to talk about their feelings, and they can’t resist each other any more so they end up kissing,’ I tell him. ‘And then it sort of fades to black.’
‘So your editor wants you to actually write the sex scene,’ he replies.
‘Yeah, but I’ve seen the amount of detail these spicy writers go into, and it’s a work of art,’ I tell him. ‘But it feels right. It doesn’t feel right for my book – take this scene here for example. The two of them were chased into the hut by a giant crab carrying a broken bottle it picked up from the beach. It would be weird and jarring to suddenly launch into a graphic description of her riding him reverse cowgirl.’
Caleb snorts so hard his wine looks like it’s about to come out through his nose. He coughs and splutters.
‘You have to warn a man, before you say something like that,’ he says with a laugh.
‘I’ll know for next time,’ I reply with a smile.
At least he finds me entertaining.
‘Honestly, Caleb,’ I sigh, pushing the notebook to one side. ‘These scenes are so much more difficult to write than you would think.’
‘Really?’ he says, disbelief edging into his voice. ‘Isn’t it just like… descriptive dirty talk?’
‘Oh boy,’ I say with an overly dramatic roll of my eyes. ‘If I even dare to think that is true, and I try to write something, I am quickly reminded that it’s basically a skill people either have or they don’t. And I don’t.’
‘All right, let’s give it a shot together,’ he says, sitting up and grabbing a notebook. ‘How about: “She gazed into his eyes, her heart pounding as he leaned in closer…”’
‘“…and then the giant crab sideways walked in, and asked them if they wanted him to hold the camera”,’ I add.
We both burst out laughing.
‘Go on then, what happens after she leans in?’ I prompt.
‘He takes off her bra?’ he suggests.
‘Does he take off her top first?’ I ask.
‘No, s he does,’ he continues, like he might be on to something.
‘And then?’ I press him.
‘And then he… he… sucks her tit?’
My sharp intake of breath is louder than I intended it to be.
‘Okay, even you don’t sound convinced by that,’ I tell him with a laugh. ‘That sounds so blokey.’
‘Well, how else do you say it?’ he replies.
‘ I don’t know , that’s the problem,’ I insist.
‘If you were going to ask me to do it, how would you ask?’ he says, trying a different route, but it’s a route that makes me think of Caleb ‘sucking my tit’ and it takes all of my strength not to blush or babble.
‘I wouldn’t,’ I reply. ‘I would just sort of… have it exist near your face.’
‘Have it exist by my face?’ he repeats back to me. ‘Okay, yeah, you’re right, you’re terrible at this.’
I can’t deny that, as bleak as this situation is, it is very funny.
‘See? This is what happens every time I try,’ I say between giggles.
‘Okay, okay, let me try again,’ he says, still chuckling. ‘“He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered… Do you want to see my… Pokémon card collection?”’
Now it’s my turn to be unimpressed.
‘Pokémon card collection?’ I echo.
‘Yeah, I panicked, I didn’t know what word to use for…’ He nods at his crotch. ‘What word do women prefer?’
‘Squirtle?’ I suggest, smug that I have just enough knowledge of Pokémon to crack a joke. ‘I have absolutely no idea. I even gave dong a go.’
Caleb smiles and cocks his head curiously. Lord have mercy, every word I utter is phallic.
‘Amber, you’re right,’ he concludes. ‘I can’t think of a word to say that doesn’t sound like I’m trying to parody something I heard in a porno.’
‘I can write the part of the dialogue where he says he’s here to fix the washing machine,’ I offer up.
‘Fix the washing machine?’ Caleb replies with a snort. ‘How old is the porn you watch? That’s one from the archives.’
‘What would you have said instead?’ I reply. ‘Bearing in mind this is going to tell me a lot about the kind of guy you are and what you’re into.’
He looks at me with those cheeky eyes of his, narrowing them slightly, as he grins.
‘Yeah, I’d stick to the influencing,’ I tell him.
Honestly, I know I’m not one to talk, but this just reminds me that Caleb publishing a book, just because he’s a big name, is so unfair. Still, we move. Technically, I’m muscling in on being an influencer, rather than staying in my own lane, so on this very rare occasion it’s a two-way street at least.
‘Let’s just do some photos,’ I suggest. ‘At least we know that’s worthwhile.’
‘I’ve got some wellness books we can pretend to read by the fire and snap some pictures,’ he says, pulling out a couple of books with colourful covers.
‘Wellness books?’ I reply, raising an eyebrow. ‘Sounds… interesting.’
We arrange ourselves in front of the fireplace, trying to look all cosy and relaxed, like we’re engrossed in our books, but all the while making sure my face isn’t in any of the shots of me, and as intellectual as possible.
Unsurprisingly, it turns out that my face isn’t the only part of me that gives away that I’m not actually Annabelle – my fashion does too. Thankfully in Caleb’s bag of tricks he has all kinds of clothing for me to wear, and while none of it is my usual style, at least no one knows it’s me.
The book I have is all about how to manifest your inner goddess – and I know that you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, but neither the cover nor the blurb gives any indication of how exactly it’s going to teach people to do this.
‘Let’s see what pearls of wisdom this one has to offer,’ I say, flipping open my book at a random page.
I clear my throat and read aloud: ‘“To truly connect with your inner goddess, you must first reset your aura by bathing in moonlight, on the third day of your menstrual cycle, while chanting the following words…” – Caleb, at best this is shit. Worst case it’s kind of offensive and totally stupid.’
‘I don’t even know when the third day of my cycle is,’ he jokes with a heavy sigh. ‘I know, I know. Obviously I think that’s a load of shit too.’
‘I don’t know if I want to read more or throw it into the fire,’ I say.
‘Isn’t that the sign of a good book?’ he replies.
‘Just hurry up and take my photos, before I destroy it,’ I insist.
He snaps a few photos of me, pretending to be deeply engrossed in the book. Then he takes a seat next to me, and we take a few more shots together, trying to look like the epitome of relaxation and enlightenment – still while hiding my face, of course. Holding up the book actually comes in really handy.
‘Do you really agree with everything you plug?’ I ask, setting the book down – on the table, I’ve managed to resist cremating it.
Caleb shakes his head.
‘If anything goes against my morals, I obviously say no,’ he says firmly. ‘But for things like this, I just find a way to have a disclaimer. Like, I’ll say, “Looking forward to reading these and seeing what they’re all about” – showing that I haven’t read it yet, but if anyone ever asks me if I recommend them, I’ll be honest.’
‘That’s smart,’ I say, nodding.
‘Exactly,’ he replies, snapping a few more candid shots of me – arty ones, with the fire in the background.
Just as we’re finishing up our photo session, my stomach decides it’s the perfect time to make its presence known with a loud rumble.
‘Sorry about that,’ I say, blushing slightly. ‘My stomach knows it’s on holiday, and all it wants to do is eat.’
Caleb laughs.
‘I’m hungry too,’ he replies. ‘How about we go for pizza? There’s a great place at the top of the mountain, you have to go up the gondola to get there.’
‘Well, I’ve never said no to pizza but I’ve also never been on a gondola,’ I reply, feeling ever so slightly apprehensive about trying something new.
‘You’ll be fine,’ he assures me with a warm smile. ‘And if you’re not, well, the pizza will be worth it.’
I laugh, following his lead, grabbing my coat.
‘Okay, let’s do it,’ I say, with a confidence I don’t really have. I am excited though.
It’s actually quite fun, being an influencer. Who knew?