Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Sixteen
Damn, this would never get old, being the one who greeted her as she made her way down the escalator, except I’d controlled myself, controlled my urge to swoop her up, tug her into me, and kiss the fucking hell out of her. It was her; she was the one who’d let her bag fall from her hand as she softly whispered, “I missed you so much.” A fraction of a second later, she was yanking me in, her lips grazing mine, my signal to dip my tongue into her mouth. My reward was her chest arching into me, a move that said, “I’m all in and don’t care who sees.” For a few brief seconds, we locked into a way too passionate kiss, the kind of kiss where you ignore the travelers milling about, making it clear to that person that the moments without them had been excruciating. Well, until the laughter of teenage girls halted the onslaught of public affection; a level that should have been at least semi-private. I didn’t care. It felt right like this was exactly what I should be doing, kissing this girl, wrapped in a cocoon of need, not at all concerned that the world was inches away, bustling around us.
God damn, if that wasn’t the best feeling in the world…to be missed by someone you love, to want to yank back the minutes you were apart from them. The picture of my mom picking me up from summer camp popped into my head; she’d always hugged me as if she hadn’t been sure I would return, and every second I wasn’t with her, she ached for me. I hugged her like that the first year; before I knew the other boys were watching me. After, I’d say, “Okay, Mom, enough.” I wished now I hadn’t done that.
I intertwined my fingers in Rakell’s, lit up by her enthusiasm to see me. I sensed the change in the sky, a tiny droplet sliding down my cheek as we walked through the parking lot to my pearl-white Rivian SUV. Opening the door, I took in her high ponytail, no makeup, and white slip-on tennis shoes. She wore a light-blue cotton skirt and cropped white T-shirt embossed with the Hollywood sign. That made me wince, knowing that’s what she was aiming for. I helped her climb in and watched her settle into the seat, how she tilted her pelvis up, tugged her skirt down, shifted her feet to put her purse between them, tightening her ponytail twice, an almost nervous gesture.
There was always a tentative push and pull with us in those first moments of being back together like she was skittish about our solidness, or did she not think we would last? I flip-flopped in my brain, continuously trying to figure her out, but I was also the guy who wanted to know how the book or movie ended before it even started. It didn’t need to unfold for me…let me know if it ends well, and I’m in; if not, I’ll skip. I felt that way when I finished Old Yeller , almost weeping, regretting that I’d read it. But hell, I still tortured myself with the movie one night when it was just Dad and me. If my mom said, “After dinner, I have a surprise dessert,” I’d bug her until she told me what it was. Why wait? I hated that part of life, the waiting for the good stuff. I don’t get the point.
A few more drops landed on my arm. “Hey, it’s going to rain. Do you have a jacket in your suitcase? The temperature will drop on our drive to Napa. It’s supposed to snow in Tahoe, which usually means rain for Sac.”
“Yeah, I’m already getting chilly,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “There’s a jean jacket in the big suitcase. I can get it.”
“I’ll grab it.” Opening the back hatch, I unzipped her suitcase, scanning for the jacket. My eyes snagged on a string bikini; my jaw hardened just thinking about that prick getting to see her in this scant swimsuit. I jerked the jean jacket out and closed the suitcase before rifling through my travel bag for a flannel shirt; the temperature had plummeted within minutes, which meant the sky was ready to let loose.
I turned the heat up as we pulled out of the parking lot and made our way to the highway, heading directly to Napa. “Warmer?”
“Yes, wow, the temperature changed so suddenly.”
It was as if the sky answered back, cracking loudly, disparate droplets raging into a rain sheath. “I checked. It’s supposed to be nice in Napa tomorrow.”
“I saw that the Harvest Inn has real fireplaces; that sounds so homey. You don’t see them in hotels anymore. You have to be at a castle or an old Italian or Parisian mansion to find a wood fireplace anymore.”
A sharp grunt left my mouth. “Yeah, 'cause I’ve stayed in so many European castles.” That may have been said too tartly for a guy who desperately wanted this weekend to be perfect.
“Well, I think,” she mused, “if that’s what you wanted, you should have chosen a different profession,” she stated, deadpan.
What the hell? How was I supposed to respond to that statement? Oh yeah, honey, I should have been an escort to billionaires because lots of guys I know have that job . “Yeah, I don’t think I would have been good at that.”
“Really,” she shot back. “I think you're damn good at it.” Her words caught up in a raspy laugh.
“I mean the playing up to billionaires.” I tried to sound neutral, but I couldn’t completely squelch the sharp edge of my voice.
She didn’t come back at me; the silence ticked as the rain sluiced down the windshield, both of us staring ahead.
Leaning over the console, she slid her hand on my thigh. “I’m looking forward to breathing…trying not to think about the audition, sleeping, and drinking some good wine with you. Oh, and that snuggling thing you like to do.” I could feel her gaze on me, studying my reaction. Without looking I sensed the wicked smirk on her face because she fucking knew exactly what her husky voice paired with her touch would do to my groin.
My visibility was virtually zero; I couldn’t take my eyes off the road, but the way her fingernails dug into my jeans made the twinge between my legs grow, her mere touch lighting a match on smoldering embers I was trying to keep under control. “Well, um, so naked snuggling, I hope…” My words came out choppy. Of course, this girl took that as an invitation to taunt me. Her nails ran up the inside of my thigh. “ Rae -kale,” I cautioned, trying to focus on the road, semi-trucks passing me as I navigated the SUV.
“Mmm,” she whimpered. “Just missed you and…also, wondering why car manufacturers thought it was a good idea to put large consoles between the driver and the passenger.” She cleared her throat, taking on an animated version of her Australian accent. “Mate, that precludes the passenger from sucking the driver’s cock to pass the time. I miss your old truck.”
I chuckled, the air in the SUV feeling lighter. “It’s at my parents' house, so we’ll definitely drive it the next time we go out in Austin.”
Her phone buzzed in her purse. She jerked her hand off my thigh, fishing in her bag, then looked at the screen, “It’s Ana, I texted her when I landed just hoping she’d have some news before the weekend. I need to call her back. She may have heard back from the studio.” Anxious anticipation dominated her voice, so much so that my back flexed, my shoulders inching toward my jaw.
“Yes, of course.” I blew out a deep breath. Either answer: yes, you have the part, you will be starring opposite Bernardo Cappuccino in this salacious thriller where you will be his love obsession, or no, they decided to go a different direction. I couldn’t imagine which it would be. Heads or tails, I lost because this weekend was shot. Goddamn, I just wanted one weekend to be us!
“Ana, hi, I saw you just called. Oh, okay, okay, so nothing yet?” Rakell had such an anxious sound of hope in her voice, completely unsure of herself; that wasn’t her. “Interesting, isn’t that a men’s brand? So what would I be doing? I’m intrigued, especially since they’re a well known company, and it sounds like a significant campaign. Yes….yes.” Rakell laughed. “I know. I’m not in a position to turn anything down. Mmhmm…mmm…okay, I’ll fly home Monday, then I can be in London mid-week. Can you email me all the information? Also, what should I wear? What look are they going for…do they already have my measurements? Okay, because I brought my swimsuit to the audition, and it wasn’t right. They wanted an even smaller string bikini that could be untied at the neck.” Rakell spoke like she was discussing a simple business transaction.
My forearms bulged as my hands tightened on the steering wheel listening to her. The bikini in her suitcase wasn’t fucking risqué enough? A slight groan escaped my mouth, but I kept my eyes focused forward.
“I know, I know,” she said, continuing to talk to Ana. “They were professional about it, but honestly, the top was at least three sizes too small. I know. Thank you. Hopefully, we hear something over the weekend. Text anytime, and I’ll call right back. I want to know. You, too. Thank you.”
She was still staring at her phone several seconds after hanging up. “Ummm, I need to call Matt. I know he’s wondering about the audition. I want to hear his…”
“Go ahead; we’ll be in the car for at least another thirty minutes. Visibility is crappy.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. Matt picked up so fast that I wondered if he’d been waiting for her call. Her voice dropped as she repeated to him what Ana had told her. My attention peaked when she described the London opportunity. “I know, she said stay positive, keep going, I’m so close…” she mocked back to Matt, yet it was obvious that talking to him released some of the tension I’d heard in her voice earlier.
I was waiting for the right time to ask more about her and Matt’s relationship; their bond was readable by anyone who spent time around them. I wondered if it made Jonathon jealous…because it sure as hell made me envious of Matt.
“I know. Forget this and enjoy the weekend.” A quiet sigh escaped her mouth, as if she were relinquishing herself; hearing Matt’s voice must have somehow coaxed her into giving in to the moment, letting go of whatever self-talk ping-ponged in her head. “Okay, bye…” She hesitated. “Love you, too,” she murmured, lowering her voice, like she thought I couldn’t hear her sitting an arm's length from me.
The sky relented its siege, and I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding listening to her.
“Sorry, I just wanted to give him an update.”
“Not a problem,” I said, trying to sound like it really wasn’t an issue, even though my chest felt tight just hearing the effect Matt had on her, how his words seemed to peel away her anxiety.
“I know, I have to do this on my own. It’s a sink or swim situation, but…”
“Since Matt’s someone you consider close, I think leaning on him makes sense,” I spat out. Even if it wasn’t me, I still wanted to drive home the point that depending on people you trust is part of being in a relationship.
“I don’t see it that way, more us…”
“I know, it’s mutual,” I repeated her words from last Sunday.
“Yes, but also, he convinces me that there’s a positive in almost every situation. And sometimes, I can be a little trapped in the negative.”
It was like another layer of this forever onion had been peeled back. “I get it, negative self-talk can be a trap,” I offered, thinking about how that one bad pass early in the game can ruin a quarterback if they don’t throw away the mistake and look forward. “It’s a football thing for sure,” I said, tossing the statement into the air, cajoling this conversation forward. “Years ago, they would make players rewatch their mistakes…a bad pass, missed play. Now that’s a big no-no in sports.” I chuckled. “Apparently, we humans are pretty adept at reliving our mistakes or anything negative, so it actually hinders a player when they review their fuckups. The better strategy is for them to rewatch their successes as well as other players' successes.”
I heard her shift in her seat, turning to face me. “I like that. Replay the good, not the bad. I wish it were that simple. I think it’s easy to forget how good things are when you are focused on getting the next thing. You forget to be positive…but sometimes being positive feels exhausting.”
That made me chuckle; it’s a weird perception that many have about successful people.
From my side, I saw her flop back in her seat. “Jake,” she said, her tone suddenly serious. “I really need you to get me to stop spinning about the audition. It’s all I can think about, so I hope this weekend gets my mind off of it.” She laughed softly, her hand finding my thigh again. “I’m hoping you can somehow help me stop thinking about every detail of the audition.”
Clearing my throat, I said, “Sounds like it was pretty intense. How did you feel, you know?” Damn, I hated how nervous and choppy my voice sounded. “I mean, parading in front of the cameras and…”
She jumped in. “I think I’ve just learned how to pretend, so it’s as if someone else is performing. I hope that helps me in this business.”
I bit down on my lip, eating the threat on the tip of my tongue. Don’t ever pretend with me, or we’ll be done. “Hey, Sweets, I’ll ensure you only think about one thing.”
I guess she’s not the only one who can act.