Fall

by Rachel Van Dyken

  “A date?” I nodded. “And how was this date?” My teeth snapped together like a friggin’ piranha.

  She frowned. “Confusing?”

  “How so?” I patted the stool next to me. She took a seat and slumped against the counter.

  “I don’t know.” Pris put her face in her hands. “I over-analyze everything.”

  “Like what?”

  She groaned into her hands. “Promise not to make fun?”

  “Swear.” I held out my pinky. Damn friend zone.

  “Okay, so he just seems forceful. Almost like he wants to impress me with his awesomeness, and then a girl stopped by.”

  Yeah, I knew what girl that was, spawn of Satan herself.

  “And then he said he’d be right back and didn’t come back until like fifteen minutes later. He was super distracted and then when he dropped me off, he asked to kiss me.”

  “He asked?” I laughed.

  “Stop!” Pris pushed against me. “He was being a gentleman.”

  No, he was being sneaky, that’s what he was being.

  “Anyway, I said yes.”

  My smile hurt, it was so forced. “And?”

  “And…” She licked her lips. “Oh my gosh, I’m so embarrassed, how is it that I’m talking to you about this? People’s Sexiest Man Alive? This has to be a sick joke.”

  “I’m your friend.” I almost choked on the word. “Not sexiest man alive, not this year, that honor went to Mr. Levine.”

  Pris played with a piece of her hair and looked down at the counter top. “I think I’m a bad kisser.”

  I burst out laughing.

  She smacked me in the arm. “You jerk! You promised not to laugh!”

  “There’s a difference between laughing at a person and laughing because what they’re saying is so damn hilarious it’s your only option.”

  She looked away.

  “You’re not a bad kisser.” I rolled my eyes. “I would know.”

  “That was hardly a kiss.”

  “Excuse me?” I snapped, all humor draining from my body.

  “No!” She put her hand on my arm. “I didn’t mean it that way. I’m just saying he kiss-kissed me.”

  “He kiss-kissed you?” I repeated. “Is that some new terminology I don’t know about?”

  “He used tongue.”

  I was cutting off his tongue.

  “Your point?” I ground out.

  “I’m just saying your kiss was different and I think I’m a bad kisser, that’s all I’m saying. Look, let’s drop it.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “Are you freaking kidding me? My pride’s at stake here!”

  “Jaymeson—”

  “Get up.”

  “Seriously! It’s fine, let’s just watch a movie, I’m sure I’m just being paranoid.”

  “Get. Off. Your. Chair.”

  Her eyes went all wide and terrified looking as she slowly moved to her feet and shoved her hands in her back pockets. “I’m up.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose and exhaled. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Helping,” I grumbled.

  “What?”

  “Close your eyes.”

  “No.”

  “Don’t be difficult,” I snapped.

  She closed her eyes.

  I stared like a madman. Her eyelashes were so long and thick, the girl didn’t need makeup but when she wore it, all it did was accentuate her beauty. Her skin was golden but so smooth I could have sworn touching it would be like touching velvet.

  I cupped her face.

  Her lower lip trembled.

  “Lesson one,” I whispered. “Stop shaking.”

  “Well!” she huffed. “My eyes are closed! I don’t know what you’re going to do.”

  “Listen.” My voice was hoarse as I cupped her face, my thumbs grazing her cheeks and lower lip. “I kiss hundreds of women. I’m an actor. It’s what I do. I’ve had bad kisses, I’ve had great kisses. I know good kissing, so I’m your best bet right now. You need to have more freaking confidence. It drives me crazy when a girl doesn’t realize how perfect she is — just by being herself.”

  “Sorry.”

  “And don’t apologize,” I whispered.

  “Sorry.”

  I groaned. “Oh and don’t panic.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m going to kiss you.”

  Her lower lip stopped trembling. In fact her entire body froze.

  I leaned in, my lips only inches from hers. I hesitated, not sure how to proceed, how to kiss her without changing things. But I was an actor. I did that for a living. I kissed girls — it was my job. I could kiss Priscilla and feel nothing.

  I shut down my emotions and touched my lips to hers. Electricity coursed through me as our mouths connected, lip to lip, mouth to mouth, it was impossible to pull away. I added pressure to her bottom lip then slowly pushed my tongue across the barrier of her lips.

  Moving slow, I pushed further, went deeper, our tongues touched and then pulled away, almost like a dance, as if I was playing a cat and mouse game, and damn, I didn’t know which one I wanted to be, cat or mouse.

  She gave a slight moan.

  And everything that I’d securely locked down went to hell.

  I wrapped my arms around her tight little body and pulled her hard against me, her arms looped around my neck as she arched into me.

  Dying. I was dying.

  I moved my hands down her body and rested them against her hips. I wanted to lift her shirt. I wanted to plunge into her so hard that I forgot everything.

  Everything but her.

  Instead, somehow, I was able to slightly push her away and end the kiss.

  My hands were shaking; I hoped to God she wouldn’t notice the effect she had on me. The way my body trembled with unleashed desire.

  “Wow…” she breathed, opening her eyes. “I’m not sure if that was you or me.”

  “Both,” I managed a small smile. “But I’m the movie star so I get more points, you understand.”

  She laughed.

  It wasn’t awkward.

  It should have been awkward. Awkward meant she was dying inside like I was. Awkward meant she wanted me like I wanted her.

  Instead, she was so calm I wanted to grab her again, preferably by the hair, and rip her clothes off.

  “You’re a very, very good kisser,” I said hoarsely. “He’s an ass if he thinks otherwise.”

  “So maybe he’s bad,” she offered in a teasing voice.

  “It’s not you,” I said honestly. “And if you don’t believe me, just feel.” I grabbed her hand and placed it on my chest. “Heart racing. Check. Body humming. Check.”

  “Ohh.” Her palm was warm against my chest. “So that’s how you know you’re a good kisser? When you make the other person’s heart beat like crazy?”

  Her innocence was astounding, in certain areas she seemed so mature, but when it came to guys? Sex? It was like throwing a lamb into a pack of wolves.

  “It’s not about the heartbeat, but about why it’s beating so hard in the first place,” I said smoothly placing my hand over hers. “And right now, it’s because a girl knows how to give a pretty damn good kiss.”

  She slid her hand away from mine.

  I felt empty inside. Like someone just stole my soul and sold it to the highest bidder.

  “Thanks, Jaymeson. You didn’t have to do that.”

  “Yeah I did,” I said quickly, almost interrupting her. “And now you know.”

  “That I’m a good kisser?”

  “Hell no,” I swore. “That you’re the freaking main course, not the appetizer, not the dessert. But the main attraction, the prize, the treasure. The full package. If he isn’t buying into that truth? Then he can go to hell. Or I’ll just spray paint jackass on his house.”

  She burst out laughing.

  I’d do anything to hear her laugh.

  What the hell was wro
ng with me?

  Rein it in, Jaymeson!

  “So you, uh, mentioned a movie?”

  “Scary movie?” She chewed her bottom lip.

  “Sure.”

  Fun fact about Jamie Jaymeson? I hated scary movies. I hated things that were haunted and Halloween was my least favorite holiday ever. I turned off my lights and holed up in my house like some elderly person afraid of their own shadow.

  So when she said scary movie, I said yes. Not because I had balls of steel — but because I was pretty sure that at some point she’d get scared, and I was just the “friend” to put my arm around her and whisper that it would be okay.

  Hell ya. Bring it on!

  Chapter Eighteen

  Priscilla

  I hated scary movies. But I knew a romantic comedy would just make me think about the kiss with Jaymeson, and anything else wasn’t distraction enough. Plus, he was an actor. I swear he was in every single one of my favorite movies from the past five years. The only thing he’d never done was a horror film, so horror film it was.

  Luckily Demetri had hooked up the Apple TV so we had Netflix. I clicked through the movies and settled on, What Lies Beneath. It was older so I figured it wouldn’t be super terrifying.

  An hour into the movie and I almost felt like sobbing.

  Jaymeson had screamed at least twice and I was pretty sure he was just as freaked out as I was.

  “Holy shit,” he whispered. “Don’t do it, Harrison! Don’t do it!” Harrison Ford opened the door to see his possessed wife lying across the floor. “Damn you, Harrison Ford. Damn you!” Jaymeson shouted.

  I burst out laughing. “Are you always this entertaining to watch movies with?”

  “Shh!” he snapped, and then grabbed a handful of popcorn all without looking at me or anything else but the movie screen. “She’s going to kill you, dude! Get out of there, get out!”

  I stopped watching the movie, and watched Jaymeson instead.

  He cringed, he closed his eyes, he inhaled like he was running a half marathon, and when the car went off the bridge he said so many curse words that I was blushing from head to toe.

  The movie ended.

  The credits rolled.

  Jaymeson stared at the TV for a few seconds before turning toward me. “That was some scary shit.”

  “Really?” I tilted my head. “I wouldn’t know. I was having way too much fun watching Mr. Crazy.”

  He grinned. “Great, my nickname’s Mr. Crazy now?”

  I gave him a solemn nod.

  He reached for some more popcorn and leaned back into the couch. “I can’t help it. I always talk when I watch movies. It’s a curse.”

  “I love it,” I said without thinking.

  The look he gave me made me blush, his eyes dilated slightly as a smile spread across his gorgeous face. “Really?”

  “Yeah.” I pulled my knees to my chest and rested my chin against them. “I can tell you get really into movies. It’s cool that you can make movies and still watch them like you don’t know they’re fake.”

  He chuckled. “I may know they’re fake, but I still hate scary movies. I was asked to do one last year and backed out at the last minute.”

  “Pansy.”

  “Shut it.” He threw a pillow at me. I ducked. “It was a movie about being possessed. Not really my cup of tea, love.”

  I nodded. “What about now? What’s your next project?”

  He hesitated then looked away. “I’m up for a part in that new book series getting made into a movie.”

  “Have I read it?”

  He snorted, “Probably.”

  “Which one is it?”

  “The Innocent Love Series.”

  I bit my lip to keep from laughing.

  He rolled his eyes. “It’s okay, you can laugh, I know it’s not a typical part for me to want.” He fidgeted with his hands and popped his knuckles, like he was nervous or something.

  “Hey.” I threw the pillow softly back. “You’re an actor, you can do it, right?”

  “Right.” He cleared his throat.

  “Is that why you’re here?”

  He didn’t answer right away.

  “Jaymeson?”

  “Vacation.” He licked his lips. “Away from the Hollywood scene, and then hopefully they give me the movie.”

  “So, you’ll be here for a few weeks and then leave?”

  “That’s the plan.” His voice cracked.

  “Well,” I said, putting the popcorn bowl onto the table. “I hope you get it. I think it would be really good for you to do something other than action movies.”

  His head snapped up. “You do?”

  “Of course.” I folded my arms around my knees. “Girls will love it, and if you can pull of the main character angst then you’ll be even more famous than you are now.” I tried to keep my voice light. The night had been so fun that I hadn’t thought about the fact that he’d be leaving soon. I would be alone again.

  But I still had Smith.

  And Jamie.

  “Maybe.” He sighed and ran his fingers through his dark hair. “I don’t really care about the fame though, honest. I just want to do something different. I don’t want to be the type of guy that does a ton of huge blockbuster hits but can never get out of that type casting, you know?”

  “You won’t.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because you’re Jamie Jaymeson,” I teased. “You can do anything, right?”

  His face lit up, he reached across the couch and grabbed my hand. “Thanks, Pris. Sorry to be so depressing.”

  I squeezed his hand back. “No problem.”

  A loud crash sounded outside the condo.

  I shrieked, Jaymeson cursed about the condo being haunted.

  “What was that?” I whispered.

  “Ghosts,” he answered seriously. “Punishing us for watching Harrison Ford.”

  “Be serious!” I released his hand with a jerk and got up to my feet.

  He pulled me back down to the couch. “No, let me check it out.”

  “What are you going to do? Swear at the ghost?”

  “Very funny.” He rolled his eyes and walked toward the sliding glass door. Carefully, he slid it open and poked his head outside. “Hmm, I don’t see anything that would—” He slammed the doors shut, locked them, and pulled the blinds.

  “Ghosts?” I offered.

  “Worse.” He gave a shudder. “Huge storm. The water’s going crazy out there and one of the neighbors’ potted plants fell off the ledge and took a swim in the Pacific.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  “I hate storms,” he mumbled under his breath.

  “Just like scary movies?” I yawned.

  “Yeah.” Jaymeson smiled tightly. “It’s late. I guess I should be going since we have all those crazy boxes to pack tomorrow.”

  He walked slowly to the door then turned. “Breakfast?”

  “Are you asking if I’m eating breakfast or are you offering to cook me breakfast?”

  Jaymeson shoved his hands into his front pockets, at times he seemed so unsure, like I was going to snap at him or something. “I was kind of offering.”

  “Then, yes.” I smiled. “Breakfast.” I ignored the pitter-patter of my heart at his bright hopeful smile. I was not falling for him. Not at all. He was a player. He was a freaking movie star, and last time I fell for that smile I ended up rejected and totally humiliated.

  “Great.” His accent was always more pronounced at night as if he was too exhausted to remember to say his words differently, I kind of loved it. I loved how he said his R’s. I loved how his mouth formed around words differently than mine did.

  I needed to stop staring at his mouth. That much was clear.

  “Night, Pris.” He opened the door and left.

  With a sigh I got off the couch and cleaned up, putting the bowl into the dishwasher and wiping the counter tops. I needed to get some food if I was going to be staying there for
the next week or so.

  I checked my phone.

  Two missed calls.

  Both from my dad.

  He was probably freaking out, but my parents and I had always had one of those relationships. We loved each other, but we were distant. Not in a bad way, just in a way that they knew I was an adult and they trusted me.

  I sent him a quick text.

  Me: I’m fine, will call in the morning, kinda sleepy. All is well — btw does the house still have insurance? What do you need me to do while you guys are with Dani?

  He texted back right away.

  Papa Bear: Okay sweetie, Stella told us you were okay, just wanted to hear your voice. Stay safe at the rock star’s house and try not to break anything. Kidding. We’ll discuss the insurance later. I’m… I’m hoping everything will be fine. It always is, right?

  Me: Right…

  Papa Bear: Are you scared?

  Me: ?

  Papa Bear: Being alone. Want me to send someone over? I hate that you’re by yourself. You always cried when it was too dark.

  Laughing, I texted him back.

  Me: I’ll just keep my phone close, if I panic I’ll call you and you can chase the darkness away.

  Papa Bear: I’ll always chase the darkness away.

  Me: I know.

  Papa Bear: It will be fine. Always is. Get some rest. Love you, sweetie.

  Dad, optimistic to a fault. That’s why everyone loved him. If it was raining, he’d say to be thankful we weren’t in a drought. If it was snowing, he’d say be thankful that the cold weather is killing all the spiders.

  I turned off the lights to the living room and was about ready to go into the bedroom — the one Jaymeson had convinced me to sleep in — when I heard a knock on the door.

  Other than Jaymeson, who even knew I was there?

  I looked through the peephole to see a drenched Jaymeson waiting for me on the other side.

  With a jolt I pulled the door open and jerked him inside. “You’re going to get sick standing in the rain. What’s wrong?”

  He crossed his arms over his muscled chest. My mouth went dry. His shirt clung to him like a second skin, I didn’t mean to, but I started checking him out. Who wouldn’t? His body was tightly muscled, as if he hadn’t eaten a cookie a day in his life. Every ridge of his impressive stomach was thickly corded. I hadn’t realized how cut he was. I mean, I always thought it was movie magic.