22. Scott #3
I almost think he’s fallen asleep. I’m content to lie here in my own mess on the hardwood until he wakes up, however uncomfortable it might get. But then he speaks, his voice gentle in the silence that surrounds us.
“You told Blake you fell in love with me.”
I swallow, my heart skipping a little at the realization that I had, in fact, told Blake that and didn’t think twice when relaying the story to Naz.
“I did.”
“Was it true?”
I could lie to save face, or make an excuse. I could pretend I said it for the performance we were putting on, but I don’t want to lie to him. Not now, not after everything we’ve been through.
“Yeah, it’s true.”
“So… You love me?”
“Is that okay?”
He’s quiet for a minute. “I don’t know,” he says honestly. “I’m still processing.”
“Take all the time you need.”
Just please don’t shut me out or run away. There’s no pressure to love me back. All I ask is you let me stay by your side.
I can love you quietly if that’s what you need from me.
I’m not sure what time it is when the sound of someone beating against the door pulls me out of a deep sleep.
With the blackout curtains pulled, it’s hard to tell if it’s even light outside yet.
All I know is that my eyes feel like they have sand in them, and I’d rather gouge them out than move from where I am.
Naz groans into the crook of my neck, his arm tightening around my waist.
“Who the fuck?”
“Don’t know, don’t care. Ignore them and maybe they’ll go away.”
If anything, the pounding gets more insistent. Naz tries to move off me, but I tighten my arm around him and hold him in place. Neither of us are moving until it’s absolutely necessary.
The pounding eventually stops, only to be replaced by the sound of heavy footsteps coming closer to our closed bedroom door.
Naz and I eventually made our way there after doing the bare minimum to clean up last night before falling into bed.
Together. Naked. A detail that I become all too aware of when the door swings open, sending a stream of light and a draft over my spread legs.
Naz at least is turned on his side with his leg hiked up over my thigh, so his junk is probably covered.
Cory doesn’t seem to care.
“Where’s your phone?” He asks.
“Good morning to you too.”
“It’s almost noon. Your flight is in an hour. Where is your phone?”
“Fuck,” I groan. I didn’t set an alarm because I didn’t think it was possible for me to sleep this late, but I was really comfortable. “I left all three of my phones in the living room,” I tell him.
Cory disappears for just long enough that I think he might have left for good, but he returns, looming in the doorway while he scrolls through my phone.
Naz makes a sound like he might cry but pulls himself off me to sit up.
He blinks blearily around the room, up at Cory, and then at me before grabbing a sheet from the end of the bed and throwing it on top of me.
He pulls a pillow out from behind himself to cover his own lap before giving Cory a death glare.
“What exactly are you—”
Naz is cut off by the sound of my recorded voice telling him to beg some more. His spine straightens, and I surge up, putting an arm around him like I can shield him from something that’s already happened.
“What the fuck, Cory?”
Cory holds up a finger. “Just… Shh. For a minute.”
He listens to it for a few seconds, then pauses it. From his own phone, the recording starts again, only this time it sounds different. The sound isn’t as clear, there are more ambient noises coming through.
“Listen to that again,” Scott says, rewinding it back. Naz and I lean forward, trying to catch on to what Scott is hearing.
Is that?
“Construction,” Naz says. “There’s construction happening on my property. It’s not super close, but you can hear it from my trailer.”
“Okay. Listen to this same part again now.” He plays it again from my phone.
“I don’t hear anything,” I say. There’s nothing in the background but our breathing, the faint sound of the vibrator, and the bed creaking a few times. “Play the second one again.”
We all listen, noticing more and more ambient sounds that aren’t on the version from my phone. The air conditioner kicking on. The construction. The ice maker in the kitchen.
“One more time,” I say. Naz doesn’t complain at having to listen to himself again, we’re listening to everything that happens in the background instead. Then I notice something. “Play the end of my recording,” I say when the released version stops.
“No, not God, pet—”
“Scott… Please.”
“There’s a good pet.”
Then the recording cuts off.
“It’s not my recording,” I say finally. “It’s a recording of my recording.”
“What?”
I look at Naz. “The recording that was leaked, not only are there all those ambient sounds we can’t hear in the first, but that version is longer. It keeps going after my recording stops. Listen to how mine ends.”
Cory plays the end of the recording on my phone again.
“There’s a good pet.”
“Now play the released version again.”
“There’s a good pet… You want this?”
“Mmmph. Yes. Please give it to me. Please fuck me.”
There aren’t any more words after that, but the recording goes on for another few seconds, picking up on Naz crying out as I gave him what he was asking for.
“A recording of your recording,” Naz repeats slowly. “So we were being recorded the whole time?”
“The trailer must be bugged,” Cory says.
“Impossible. I checked multiple times. I even took all the light fixtures apart, and the outlets.”
“You did what?”
I give Naz an incredulous shrug. “I was doing my job.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want to worry you. I assumed I was just being paranoid with you being out there by yourself.”
Naz rolls his eyes, and I pinch his hip.
“You had to have missed something,” Cory points out. “Unless you had anyone else there, or some kind of delivery that wasn’t food or—”
“Nothing,” Naz says. “Scott was the only delivery I got.”
“I’ll check again when we get back today,” Cory says.
I nod, because he’s right. I’ll fucking hate myself if he is, but how else would they be able to record that?
I just hate that I won’t be there to help them figure it out.