by Max Monroe
Luckily, it worked.
Another few videos in and after a quick status check on Ariana Grande’s recent Instagram posts, my blinks turned longer and eventually my eyes started to fall closed.
Ah, yes, the glorious angel named sleep. I sure do love when she visits.
I was just on the brink of being lights-out, but my heart damn near jumped out of my throat when my phone started ringing and vibrating in my lap.
My eyes popped open, and I squinted as I tried to look at the far too bright screen.
Incoming Call: Leo.
I blinked three times just to make sure it was really him.
Spoiler alert: It was.
He’d dropped me off at my apartment not even two hours ago, and he was already calling me?
Maybe it’s an accidental butt dial? I thought to myself, just before I answered on the fourth ring.
“Hello?” I said into the receiver, fully expecting to hear complete silence or muffled sounds of rustling and movement.
But, to my utter surprise, he answered back.
“Hi.” His voice might as well have been melted chocolate with how damn good it sounded.
“Hi,” I repeated dumbly, and then cleared my throat to add, “Uh…is everything okay?”
“Everything is perfect.”
Everything is perfect.
I smiled like a lunatic. “Well, that’s good news.”
“It is,” he agreed. “So, what are you doing right now?”
“Lying in my bed.”
“Shit,” he muttered. “Did I wake you up?”
“No,” I lied, but thought better of it. “Well, sort of, but I won’t hold it against you.”
He chuckled at that. “Sorry I woke you.”
“It’s fine,” I said. “So, is there a reason you’re calling me, or…?”
“I’m a man of my word, Gemma. When I say I’ll call, I’ll call.”
“And apparently, you’re extremely prompt,” I teased.
“What can I say?” he asked on a laugh. “I really want to see you again.”
I smiled to my goddamn toes. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he said, his voice deep and husky. “So, Gemma Holden, what do you think about another date with me?”
“I think I’d probably be interested in something like that…”
“Probably interested?” he questioned, and soft sarcasm rounded the edges of his voice.
“Okay, very interested.”
“That’s more like it,” he said on a soft laugh. “But I do have one special request.”
“And what’s that?”
More kissing? Showing me your penis? Hot sex?
“I get to choose the date this time.”
I was only slightly disappointed by his response, but still, Leo Landry wanted to take me out on a second date. Yes, please!
I pulled the receiver from my ear, pushed my face into my pillow and squealed.
Once I got my shit together, I cleared my throat and said, “Deal.”
Two minutes later and it was official.
Next week, after he got back from his away game in Charlotte, we’d second date it right the fuck up.
Game on, Leonard.
The energy was amped and the smell of sweat was rampant as the sound of cleated feet stomped into the locker room in Charlotte stadium.
Another win and another glorious week of feeling like we had a chance at the championship this year.
I wasn’t a standout player by any stretch of the imagination, but I’d done my part, and that was all I could really hope for as the weeks kept ticking.
“Good game, Leo,” Cam said with a smack to my back as he walked by me on the way to his locker.
“You too,” I said back, smiling at the superstar who’d somehow become my friend. I’d spent years looking up to the guy, watching his games on TV, and trying to learn something from him, and as fate would have it, it seemed he was turning into one of my closest friends.
Life was so funny that way.
“I’m impressed by your coverage,” he added. “And I know the other guys are too. Sean already said he wants to run some drills with you this week. Get a little one-on-one action to give you some experience with the best receiver in the league.” He rolled his eyes at Sean’s obvious ego, and I just laughed.
The opportunity to work with guys like this was mind-blowing, no matter how cocky they were.
“Great. Tell him to expect a run for his money.”
Cam laughed at my arrogance and winked. “Oh, don’t worry. I can’t wait to tell him that.”
He jumped up from the bench and slapped me on the shoulder.
“He’s gonna run your ass off for it, though.”
I grinned. “Good.”
Cam nodded his approval, and everything inside me sighed. I couldn’t believe how easily I’d taken to the team and the guys, and how right my career choice felt. It honestly felt like I was exactly where I should be, doing what I was meant to do.
Of course, that kind of security only made me think of Gemma and how she didn’t know.
I just didn’t understand how she couldn’t. The instant she’d opened her mouth and starting singing along with the queens onstage, it’d been clear to me and everyone else inside Drag what she should be doing and then some.
She was talented. So fucking talented.
And beyond that, you could tell she lived for it. Breathed for it.
Like she was meant to be onstage.
I just wasn’t sure how to get her to see it.
Opening my locker, I grabbed my bag from the hook and set it on the bench in front of me to get some clothes and a towel for my shower. But before I could pull out my T-shirt, the bottom of the bag buzzed against the wood of the bench, the loud sound echoing against the metal of the lockers.
I fished around in the bottom until my fingers closed around my phone and I pulled it out.
Several texts from Gemma lit up the screen, and I immediately clicked to open them, shower plans long forgotten.
Gemma: Your aunt is right. You do have the cutest butt on the field.
Gemma: Wow. You’re fast. Like, cheetah speed. Remind me not to be chased by you. I’d be lunch meat just like a gazelle.
Gemma: That guy was HUGE. Did he injure you?
Gemma: Oh wait, I guess you can’t really answer right now, huh? Fuck, I hope he didn’t injure you.
Gemma: Oh, never mind, I just watched you tackle some guy to the ground. You’re good to go, if you’re wondering.
Gemma: Wow. These games are long. Aren’t you tired? I’m kind of tired.
Gemma: How many minutes do you have to run a day not to die doing this?
Gemma: Holy shit, that guy is missing teeth. Is there a chance you’re going to be missing teeth at any point? Tell me now.
I laughed at her running commentary, noting how good she was at a one-sided conversation. Apparently, she’d been hanging around my aunt Alma a little too long.
Me: If I get teeth knocked out, I’ll go to a dentist. Don’t worry. I’m not sure I could pull off the hockey player look.
I waited with the phone in my hand for her answer, but when it didn’t come quickly, I knew I couldn’t sit around waiting forever.
I had to get my ass showered and ready for the bus back to the hotel if I didn’t want to be on the team’s shitlist.
Tossing my phone back into my bag, I ran to the showers and did just that.
I scrubbed and soaped and washed everywhere, but what I absolutely didn’t do was think of Gemma. The last thing I needed in a group shower with a bunch of football players was a boner I couldn’t hide.
Dried off and dressed, I grabbed my bag and headed for the bus.
My phone was still silent, and disappointment niggled deep in my gut.
Cam smiled as I climbed aboard and nodded to the empty seat beside him.
I took it without question.
“Get pretty enough in there? Tampon secure and everything?�
� he asked just as my ass hit the seat.
Apparently, my version of quick hadn’t been quick enough.
“I didn’t have time for makeup, but I made do,” I said through a laugh and slid my bag to the ground at my feet and settled my head into the rest.
“You better buck up,” he said as I closed my eyes. “We’ve got celebrating to do.”
I was shaking my head before he even finished the sentence. “I don’t think so, man. I’m gonna stay in tonight.”
“Wow. Period cramps must be really bad.”
I rolled my eyes and laughed. “First day is always the heaviest.”
He smirked at that. “Fine, fine. I guess I’ll let you off the hook. This time. But that’s mostly because it doesn’t take a fucking genius to figure out why.”
I quirked a brow, and he chuckled.
“Mystery girl who isn’t such a mystery anymore,” he added, and I couldn’t exactly deny it. “How was the big date, by the way?”
“So good we’ve already got plans to go out tomorrow night when I get back.”
“Damn, son,” Cam said and feigned wiping tears from his eyes, “It appears our little rook is about to turn into a man right before our very eyes.”
I just laughed it off, and he grinned.
“Anyway, I already knew your ass wasn’t going out tonight the minute we left the field.”
“Then why’d you give me so much shit?” I asked with a grin.
He shrugged. “For fun.”
“And what exactly are you doing tonight?”
“Going to the room and calling Lana,” he said with a wink and a nudge, and a mere ten seconds later he put his headphones on and turned to look out the window.
That was the Cam Mitchell version of conversation officially dismissed.
And, as much as my phone burned at my feet, I knew better than to take it out on the bus. Instead, I closed my eyes and settled in for the ride back to the hotel.
When I got there, I’d call Gemma.
Maybe even FaceTime her.
Sunday nights were for Netflix binges and takeout.
Also, when you worked at Alma’s sex toy sweatshop, they were for calling it an early night and getting some sleep in preparation for the week ahead.
At a little after ten, I climbed into bed, set my alarm for 7:00 a.m., and bid the lights good night. I needed at least eight solid hours of sleep if I wanted any chance of keeping up with ole Alma and her plethora of shipments.
Not to mention, she’d recently put me in charge of taking inventory photos. An entire overhaul of product pictures, to be exact. Once I’d managed to convince her the weirdness that was vibrators in nature landscapes wasn’t easy on the eyes, she’d given me free rein on revamping the whole vibe—pun intended—of Alma’s Secrets.
And, in the spirit of keeping shit up to the sex toy industry standards, I went with the simplicity of white backgrounds and great lightning. It didn’t take much to make a fake penis stand out.
You’re welcome, by the way.
And for anyone who was subjected to seeing their favorite vibrator sitting on a park bench, I’d like to apologize on behalf of Alma for your trauma.
Thankfully, I was able to push tomorrow’s long list of work to-do’s out of my head and shut my eyes.
Sleep had been the number one man in my life for as long as I could remember.
Well, sleep and Adam Levine.
I’d been a Maroon 5 fan forever. We’re talking in-utero crushing. If I ever found the musical balls to audition for The Voice, you could bet your sweet ass I’d be Team Adam all the livelong day.
But that was a pipe dream.
I’d be more likely to run into Adam Levine at the fucking dollar spot at Target than meet him while auditioning on an internationally known reality show.
But, sleep? Well, he wasn’t a mere pipe dream. He was the real deal.
My main squeeze.
And he and I were about to get all kinds of up close and personal.
I shut my eyes and my breathing slowed, and just before my nocturnal Casanova wrapped his big, strong arms around me, my phone vibrated across my nightstand and echoed off the otherwise silent walls of my bedroom.
With my eyes still closed, I groaned and turned over onto my side to haphazardly grab my phone. Once the little vibrating bitch was in my hands, I peeked my eyes open to find Incoming FaceTime Call: Leo flashing across the screen.
FaceTime? What the hell?
For no apparent reason besides pure shock, my heart pounded inside my chest, and I hid myself and my phone under the covers.
Why was he FaceTiming me?
Besides the embarrassing urine collection session and the awkward lunch with his great-aunt, we’d been on one date.
Surely, that did not translate to FaceTime calls.
Text messages? Of course.
Phone calls? Definitely.
But FaceTime? I don’t think so, Leonard.
We hadn’t reached the date number five threshold where I started showing myself sans makeup and living my truth of being a real girl who poops and has a tendency to get all kinds of bitchy on days one through three of her period.
As of right now, with only date number one in the history books?
I was a glowing, airbrushed goddess who never had to shit, smelled of roses after a five-mile run, and only ate portion-appropriate meals.
I sure as fuck didn’t answer FaceTime calls in the middle of the night when I looked like Hagrid from Harry Potter.
I had a rep to protect until I’d fully won him over with my girlish charm.
Thankfully, the vibrating rings came to a halt and a missed FaceTime call tallied itself in my call log.
I stared at my phone and tried to comprehend the situation, and eventually, came to the conclusion that it had to have been an accidental FaceTime call.
A FaceTime butt dial, so to speak.
With my fingers to the keys, I tapped out a quick text message and hit send.
Me: I think you butt-dialed me.
His response came thirty seconds later.
Leo: Why didn’t you answer?
Me: Because I figured it was an accident.
Leo: But it wasn’t an accident.
Shock registered itself on my face in the form of wide eyes and a parted mouth. I was the real-live version of one of the sex dolls men could purchase from Alma’s site for the bargain price of $29.95.
Me: You FaceTimed me on purpose???
Leo: And that’s a bad thing because…?
Me: No, not bad. Just…kind of weird.
Leo: Weird? LOL. How is that weird?
Me: Because we haven’t reached date number five yet.
Leo: And date number five is when FaceTime calls are allowed? Is there some dating rule book I’m not aware of?
Me: More of a silent, unwritten rule book. It’s the personal-intimacy-dam-breaching date.
Leo: I’ve never really been the kind of guy who plays by the rules, sweetheart. And I’m not sure how FaceTime prematurely breaches any personal intimacy barriers. Are you naked? Is that why this is a problem?
Panicked, I answered the only part of his text that seemed relevant. I wasn’t just lounging around at my nudist colony retreat. As a matter of fact, I wasn’t sure I’d ever wandered around my apartment naked when there wasn’t a sexual reason.
Me: I’m not naked!
Leo: I’m going to FaceTime you again. How about you answer this time?
Every stubborn bone in my body stood at attention as I shook my head. My vagina wasn’t blowing in the wind, but I looked like hell after a tornado. No way I was answering that call.
Me: Nope.
Leo: Answer the call, Gemma.
Me: I can’t. It will ruin the whole allure. I can’t have you seeing me look like Hagrid before we’ve even gone out on our second date.
Leo: Who is Hagrid?
Had he seriously just asked me that?
The entire fucking world and their
moms should’ve known who Hagrid was.
Me: YOU DON’T KNOW HAGRID FROM HARRY POTTER?
Leo: Are you talking about those movies with the little wizard boy?
The little wizard boy? I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
I mean, he was skirting around some serious Harry Potter sacrilege kind of shit at the moment.
Me: Are you fucking with me right now? Harry Potter is one of the greatest literary creations of our time.
Leo: LOL. There’re books too?
Me: OMG.
Leo: Answer the phone, Gemma.
This time, he didn’t give me any chance for a rebuttal. My phone started vibrating in my hands again, and I immediately hid under the covers.
Shit. He’s pushy.
Against my better judgment, I accepted the damn call and prayed he couldn’t actually see my face through the clouded darkness of my comforter.
Instantly, his face filled the screen, and I couldn’t not smile.
Good God, he was handsome. In other words, not the male version of me right now.
“Gemma?” he said and squinted his eyes. “Are you there?”
“I’m here.”
He chuckled. “Are you in a cave?”
“I’m under my covers.”
He squinted his eyes a little harder, and eventually, a mischievous little smirk eased its way across his lips. “All right, then. I won’t complain about the view.”
It was then that I realized even though Leo couldn’t really make out my face, because of the brightness of the screen and the fact that it was pointed directly toward the lower half of my body, he could easily see everything else. And I mean, everything else.
My braless boobs in my ratty old tank top.
