12. Jenna
Chapter twelve
Jenna
And this, ladies and gentleman, is why doing research for your new job is so important.
Or you’ll end up like me.
Clueless about the fact that you let the star of the movie fuck you until the sun came up. After he begged you to sit on his face.
Begged you to ride his tongue until you couldn’t handle it anymore.
I’d known who Mara Scott was going into this, well before I met her at the F and T awards. Everyone who is anyone—and no one—has at least some idea of who she is.
She’s breathtaking in every single sense of the word. Actor, singer, dancer and model, with acting giving her the most success.
But Cole Green…
I had no idea who he was when I took this job, and I have no one to blame but myself. I’ve known about this movie for almost a year, and have heard his name in the midst of it all, and still, it just slipped my mind every single time.
I don’t read men’s fitness magazines or buy calendars with half-naked men inside posing with puppies or kittens. I mean, sure, I flick through them when I walk past those center stalls in the mall, but I never really pay attention to their faces.
Does anyone?
“I can’t believe your mystery man is Cole Green,” Cassandra says, laptop on her knees. She’s filtering through pictures from his latest shoot—the cover of GQ magazine—dated back three years ago. His Instagram looks fresh and almost untouched, aside from a picture of clapperboard with the movie title and ‘take one’ written in big letters with a black marker. “And that he told everyone you were his girlfriend. ” She wiggles her brows with a giggle.
“Don’t remind me.” I groan loudly, slouching back, laying flat on my couch. The second my texts had gone through to her, her name and face lit up my screen. I answered her call with a hushed voice, spitting out the fact that the mystery man that I haven’t stopped thinking about is none other than Cole Green.
She was waiting inside my apartment when I stepped through the door after a long day, her manic laughter vibrating through the walls.
“My best friend is a taken woman, and she’s only been in town for twenty-four hours. You work fast, Jen,” she says with mostly humor as she lays down beside me, her feet in my face, and mine in hers.
“Gross. Stop it.” I whack her thigh with the back of my hand and her laughter subsides.
“I don’t think you need me reminding you, though. He’s going to be in your chair every single day, multiple times a day. You can’t avoid him forever. But I guess, if you avoid him, your new colleagues will think there’s trouble in paradise.” She hits me back.
“I don’t plan on avoiding him forever. I plan on ignoring him forever,” I tell her, sitting up, straightening my posture. “I’m going to tell everyone on set tomorrow that he was just messing around or that we’ve broken up. Hopefully no one asks questions and we can go about our jobs without questions. I don’t like knowing people are watching my every move, and if they think I’m with Cole, I’ll definitely become the talk of the set. Maybe even the town.” I sigh, hoping like hell I don’t see my name next to his in an online article any time soon.
Grangewood Creek is a small town, and if Cassandra being back home has taught me anything, it’s that I need to steer clear of Mrs. Bishop and her gossip train at all costs.
“Besides, when I met Mara at the F and T awards, she told me she wanted him. She’s going to think I’m stepping on her toes.” I shudder, knowing I’m unintentionally about to become enemy number one.
“That woman could have literally any man she sets her eyes on. I guarantee she’s already over it,” Cassandra says. Reaching her arm out to the side, she picks her phone off the coffee table, and taps away at the screen with a goofy smile on her face.
I don’t need to see her to know that she’s up to something.
“What did you do?” I ask as my own phone vibrates, frantically scooping it up from beside hers, seeing a text message appear in The Herring Girls group chat. We created the text thread during wedding planning, and added Cassandra to it once the nuptials had finished. She changed the name of it from ‘Confidential: Cdrum emoji
Cassandra: Cole. Fucking. Green!
Lizzie: You’re LYING.
Lizzie: Stop it right now.
Olive: Oh…this is fantastic.
Lizzie: Well, there goes the introduction I hoped for.
Lizzie : I’ll live through you, I guess.
Lizzie : How’s the sex?
Lizzie : ooo, wait, how big is he?
Lizzie : Actually, now that I’m thinking about it…you were walking slightly lopsided at the Wingrove wedding.
Olive: She was too!
“Are you happy with yourself, Cassandra?” I ask, watching as my best friend struggles to breathe through her laughter. Her face is beet red.
“You have no idea. Besides, you threw Olive under the bus, I figured I would return the favor.”
She’s right. I deserve it.
Me: You guys are annoying.
I send the text, throw my phone across to the other side of my couch with my best friend. There’s ice-cold drinks on the coffee table in front of us, and the new season of our favorite reality dating show Hate or Date me ready and waiting for us to watch.
We somehow manage to get through the first episode with minimal pauses for discussion, until finally she breaks the silence, and it’s not about the show.
“What if he wants a repeat? He’s already told everyone you’re his girlfriend. What if he’s done that so the two of you can make love without anyone thinking anything of it? Oooh! Maybe he wants to hold your hand in public, and kiss you hello or goodbye in front of people and have no one question it. Oh, I think I like him.” Cassandra swoons, and I think if I rolled my eyes any further into the back of my head, I’d be able to see my brain. I want no part in this conversation, but I fear I have no choice.
“You realize you just swooned over an interaction you created in your head, right?” I ask her, taking a small sip of water before placing the glass back down onto the table. She’s either still deeply in her honeymoon phase with Harley, or she’s balls deep in a romance novel where the man is doing everything he can to impress his girl.
“Did I, Jenna?” She awkwardly sits up to lean forward, blinking rapidly at me. I shove at her shoulders to playfully force her back down.
“Even if those types of interactions happened in real life, we both know they’d never happen in a scenario that involves me.” I take another sip. I’ve never been in the type of relationship where any man would want to hold my hand in public, or kiss me hello and goodbye. Especially in front of other people. Why start now? I reach for the remote that she holds against her chest, but her grip is so tight.
“Why do you do that?” she asks, tilting her head to the side. Her long, brown hair sits in a braid over her shoulder, while she eyes me cautiously.
“Do what, Cassandra? Please explain to me what it is you think I do.” I turn toward her as she sits up, and this time I let her. I watch as she crosses her arms over her chest, and tucks her feet underneath her thighs.
“You think you’re not worthy of anything other than a one-night stand, because somewhere along the way you got it in your head that no one wants anything more from you, other than your body. You’ve somehow convinced yourself that your body is all that’s of value, and the only thing you have to give. You’re not your mom, Jen.”
We sit in silence for a beat while I mull over what she just said to me. I know she’s right, but it doesn’t mean I’m able to just flick a switch and suddenly have every doubt and insecurity scrubbed clean.
My mother ingrained that shit deep into every crevice of my mind and body. It’s going to take a lot more than the words of my best friend, and some guy who made me feel good about myself for one night, to undo all the damage that’s already there.
“I know I’m not her. I could never be Becky Rogers. That woman is who the Rogers curse—”
“Is named after. Yes, I’m aware. But you do realize that curses don’t actually exist, right? You’re smarter than that. Stop using it as an excuse to not let yourself at least be open to meeting someone,” she presses me with logic, and I roll my eyes. We have this exact conversation whenever I meet anyone new who could potentially want something more from me other than sex, but I never have it in me to want to try.
“And you’re aware that I like the way my life is, right? Just because you’re happily married, C, doesn’t mean I want to be.” I lean over to take the remote from her, and this time she gives it to me.
“Fine.” She raises her hands in defeat. “But I know you, Jen. And I know the way you talk about people you like and people you don’t. Your words might say that you want nothing from him, but your blushing cheeks and your lack of eye contact tell me a completely different story.” She shrugs, and I bring my hands to cover my face, which forces a laugh out of her. It eases the tension between us, thankfully. “Three months of seeing his handsome face every single day. Your hands running through and touching his hair every day. Your face up close and personal with his? I love you, Jen, but there is absolutely no way you’ll be able to keep it in your pants. Harley met him earlier, and apparently, the first thing he did was ask about you.”
I hate that her last sentence made me want to call her husband and hound him with questions.
What did he say?
Who was he with?
Did he actually seem interested, or was he just a guy looking to get his dick wet, knowing I would probably do it if he asked me to?
“Can we drop it?” I ask instead of what’s really on my mind, and she smirks, knowing she’s struck a nerve. She’s right. She does know me. Better than I even know myself sometimes, but that doesn’t mean she’s always right.
“Fine,” she says, and we do.
Our phones vibrate a few more times throughout the remainder of our episode, though neither of us check them. We know it’s Lizzie desperately trying to find out as much as she can while Olive tells her to mind her business.
Eventually we give in, and check our notifications, and we realize just how right we were.
I have a text from an unknown number, too, but I don’t share that with Cassandra. It’ll only lead to more ‘told you so’s’ when I inevitably blush at whatever the hell he has to say for himself.
I assume it’s him, anyway.
After the stunt he pulled in front of our colleagues, I’d imagine he has a lot to say, and none of it would be an apology.
“I better go,” Cassandra finally says, stifling a yawn with the back of her hand before stretching her arms up above her head. “We have a few weddings this weekend in the marquee, and I have a lot to do.” We both stand from the couch and I walk her out of my apartment and into the foyer, where Marv stands at the door, greeting everyone who comes and goes.
“Busy first day for you?” he asks, straightening his red bow tie, flattening the white hair on his head. We both watch as Cassandra closes her car door and waves us farewell before heading out of the car park of my apartment building.
“You could say that,” I reply with a smile, the two of us walking back into the foyer side-by-side. “Do you live in the building, too?” I ask, noting that he’s been here every time I have. I can’t help but wonder if he’s a little lonely.
I make a mental note to bring him a cupcake next time I nervously bake. Because I, no doubt, will be anxious about something in the next three months.
“No.” He shakes his head. “But the journey home isn’t too far. Ever since my wife, Louella, died, I enjoy keeping busy.” He walks toward the desk to our left, taking his seat in front of the computer screen, and watches as I head back toward my apartment.
“Will you tell me about her someday?” I ask as I turn back to face him, a soft smile on his lips.
He gives me a gentle nod. “Someday.”
“See you in the morning,” I say, unlocking my apartment door.
“See you in the morning.” He smiles wider this time, hand raised in the air with a wave, and I close the door behind me.
I force myself to be busy the moment I’m alone. Collecting the two empty glasses of water, and the bowl that was once filled with popcorn, I take them to my kitchen sink. But it’s not long before I get frustrated with myself, and give in, reaching for my phone off the coffee table. When I finally open the text message that I’ve ignored up until this point, I roll my eyes and smirk accidentally.
Unknown: You mad at me, Snow? smirking emoji
Unknown: How about a date? To make it up to you.
I push the button on the side of my phone to lock it, and that’s when I allow it to happen. Allow the silence to overwhelm me for the first time today.
I let my thoughts run absolutely wild, and I hate that they do.
I hate that I see flashbacks of that night. I hate that my body reacts when I remember what it felt like to be touched by him.
Kissed by him.
Tasted by him.
My skin erupts in goosebumps when I think about Cole Green in any capacity.
But I refuse to let myself think about him in that way for a second longer.
I would much rather rely on my trusty, pink toy that sits in the top drawer of my nightstand, with fresh batteries put in just this morning.
I had a feeling that after today when I got home from my first day on set, I would need a way to unwind.
Turns out I was right.