by Jay McLean
I’m glad he says it because I was about two seconds away from throwing her over my shoulder, dropping her on the bed, and tying her down so she won’t leave my side. I restrain myself, obviously. After taking her hand, I lead her to the bed where I sit next to her, my arm around her waist, annoyed and frustrated and why the hell can’t they just leave us alone?
“You brought your camera, right?” Chris asks her.
Becca nods, a genuine smile crossing her lips.
“Good.” He pulls out some papers from his folder and hands them to her.
“An NDA?” I ask incredulously. “Really, Chris?”
He shakes his head. “Becca and I discussed her being the official photographer for the skate park tomorrow. Those are the release forms and payment contracts.”
Becca reaches into her pocket, pulls out her phone, then types, her words relayed through the speakers, “I don’t want to be paid. I’m happy to do it.”
“Take Chris’s money,” Reece says.
“Yeah,” agrees Nico. “Take it.”
I look over her shoulder as she flips the pages, pausing when she sees the amount she’ll be paid. $300. I glance at her just in time to see her eyes widen and her thumbs working franticly on her phone.
That’s way too much! I can’t accept—
She doesn’t get a chance to play the message before I grab the phone and toss it across the room. I take a pen from the nightstand, add a zero at the end and tell her, “Initial here.” I point to new amount, followed by the blank space waiting for her signature. “Sign here.”
She looks between Chris and I, but Chris gives her nothing. He’ll pay her the three grand, even if it comes from me.
Becca shakes her head. “I can’t,” she mouths.
“It’s called negotiation,” Chris tells her. “And clearly Josh has been around Daniel too long.”
“Daniel?” Becca mouths, raising her eyebrows.
“My manager.”
She takes the notepad from the side table and writes: I thought your mom was your manager?
“I’ll explain later.”
“Is there a reason for this meeting?” Reece huffs.
“Yeah. Is there?” I ask, my question aimed at Chris while I tap on the paper to refocus Becca’s attention. “Just sign it.”
Becca does what I tell her, though clearly hesitant, before handing them back to Chris who simply says, “I’ll pay you in cash tomorrow.”
We spend the next fifteen minutes discussing the plan for tomorrow—a meet-and-greet/fun skate at a local skate park—and then the media and demo shoot agenda for the following day. All things I know about and all things I wish I could back out of because Becca’s here. She’s here and she’s real and the second the guys are out of my room, I let her know with my lips, my hands, my physical worship of her presence, just how much I appreciate that she is.
Being intimate with Becs on any given day is a blessing, but being with her after months spent apart is something else. I feel like I’m moving through a haze in a dreamlike state… like my hands grasping hers while she writhes beneath me is nothing more than a fantasy. In the past, I’d caught myself laughing, thinking about the way I’d be, the way I’d act when she was finally in this position. I’d expected her to be naked within seconds, and me finishing a few seconds after that, but that’s not what’s happening. Instead, we take our time, removing clothes one after the other, our breaths merging, warming our bodies until I’ve worked up a sweat and she’s done the same. It’s not until I reach for the condom in my wallet that she comes out of her daze “Pill,” she mouths.
“Bill? I don’t know who the fuck this Bill guy is but I’m Joshua Warden. Remember me?” I jokingly tap my knuckles on her forehead.
She slaps my chest while silent laughter bubbles out of her.
“I miss you like this,” I tell her, leaning up on my forearms, my fingers lacing through her hair.
She spreads her legs, welcoming me, and when the warmth of being inside her infiltrates my entire being, I remind her of how much I love her. How much I need her.
25
—Becca—
We spent the entire afternoon, evening, and night holed up in Josh’s hotel room, only making contact with the outside world when we got hungry and ordered room service. His phone ringing wakes us the next morning. He mumbles an apology before shifting me off of him to reach for it in the pocket of his discarded jeans sitting on the floor. “It’s Tommy,” he says, his voice scratchy from sleep. “Video call.”
I lift the covers over my bare breasts and try to get out of the bed, but he holds me to him, refusing to let me go. Tommy’s face lights up the screen and the speakers crackle with his squeal. “My Becca! Nanni, look! My Becca’s with Daddy!”
Josh chuckles while I hide my smile against his chest.
Tommy waves, his smile from ear to ear. “Hi, Becca!”
Josh runs his hand slowly up and down my arm while his mother comes into view on the phone. “Morning, Becca.” She waves.
I smile and wave back.
Ella says, “Sorry for calling so early. I forgot the three-hour time difference. Tommy wants to tell you his new joke.”
“Let’s hear it, bud,” Josh says.
“Ready?” Tommy asks, his blue eyes bright.
“Go for it.”
“Why did the roll of toilet paper roll down the hill?”
“Why?” Josh asks.
“To get to the bottom.” Tommy’s cackle warms my heart. He adds, “What was it saying as it rolled down the hill?”
“What?” Josh replies.
Tommy throws his hands up. “Weeeeeeeeee!”
Josh shakes his head. “That’s really funny,” he tells his son, looking at him with love and adoration I no longer envied. “Hey, it’s really early here, buddy. Becs and I need to get back to sleep but I’ll call you as soon as I finish breakfast, okay?”
“Okay, Daddy!”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too, and I love Nanni and Ma’am and Mommy and Justin and Aunt Kimmy and Uncle Robby and Aunt Chloe and Uncle Hunt, and most of all, I love My Becca.”
Josh smiles at him. “Bye bud,” he says, before hanging up and throwing the phone across the room. He flips to his side and wraps his arms and legs around me. A moment later, his eyes are closed and his breathing’s even, and I try so hard to settle my mind so I can join him, but I can’t. All I can think about is Tommy. I treasure his voice, his laughter, his excitement in seeing me.
“Becs,” Josh murmurs. “Go back to sleep.”
I press closer to him, letting him know I’ve heard him. But I can’t go back to sleep. Not anymore.
He sighs when he flips onto his back, his forearm shielding his eyes. For a moment, I forget I’m naked and so is he, so I don’t think twice about straddling his lap and pushing down on his shoulders. He links his fingers behind his head, the muscles in his arms and chest flexing with the movement, while I run my hands through his hair, knowing I’d give just about anything to be able to speak. To be able to tell him how happy he makes me. Even if it’s just for the next two days… before I go back to a reality without him in it.
He sits up to switch on the lamp on the nightstand. Then he resumes his position, only now he has one hand behind his head, the other flattening against my stomach. “I like this view.”
“I like it, too,” I mouth.
His eyes narrow, his mind searching. “You lick the poo?”
“What?!” I mouth.
He laughs and sits all the way up, his hands on my waist and his gaze on my lips. “No. We should totally do this. I need to learn how to lip read. Say something else.”
I mouth, “Something else.”
Pressing his lips together, his eyes shift from my mouth to my eyes and back again. “Dumplings sell?”
I stifle my laugh. “You’re the worst,” I mouth.
He stares at me a long time. “Whores and squirt?”
* * *
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Josh and I eat breakfast with his team, Chris, and Daniel, Josh’s manager. I wait until we’re back in his hotel room, skateboard parts and stickers strewn all over the floor, to ask him about his mother.
He takes a moment to answer, distracted by searching for a certain sticker to place on his board. “It was mutual. She thought that being my manager was ruining our relationship, and I agreed. Besides, the novelty of traveling wore off real quick for Tommy and he said he’d rather stay home. Plus, she wants to be there so she can be around your grams. And, Tommy has to start kindergarten this year so Mom offered to home-school him for a while until things settled down for me. It kind of worked out well for everyone. Where the fuck are my Globe stickers?”
I get down on my knees and help him search for the right stickers, while typing on my phone at the same time. “You have to do this before every event?”
“I normally do it the night before so I’m not rushing, but you know, I was a little distracted last night.” He looks over at me, his bottom lip between his teeth and his gaze skimming my body.
I find the stickers with the Globe Shoes logo and hand them to him before sitting back on the bed and checking my camera gear. “Are you nervous?” Cordy asks for me.
“Not really.” He sits next to me and starts placing his sponsor’s logos on the underside of his deck. “Are you?”
I’m quick to respond, glad I’m able to talk to him about it. “A little. I’ve never really photographed action stuff before. I watched some videos on it when Chris asked me if I’d be interested. I’m scared one of your boards is going to fly right at my head!”
Josh laughs. “I’ll make sure the boys know where you are at all times.”
I wait until he’s done with his board and he’s looking at me before I have Cordy say, “You know there are pictures of us online from the signing yesterday?”
“Yeah?” he asks, his eyebrows raised.
I nod. “People are commenting, wondering who I am to you and what my name is and stuff…”
“So?”
I shrug. “It’s a little weird, no?”
“Not really.” He scratches the back of his head, and turns to me, his leg folded beneath him. “It’s kind of part of my job, so I guess I’m used to it. People are nosy, and gossip is a marketing tool around here. But if you’re not comfortable with it, I’ll be sure not to play grab ass while we’re out there today.” I can tell he’s half joking, half testing, waiting for a reaction… which I don’t have, because I honestly don’t know how I feel about any of it. It’s not as if we’ve talked about what we are to each other, and I really don’t want to be the center of anyone’s gossip, true or not.
“We’ll just play it cool today, all right?” he says, his tone calm. But I can hear the hurt in his voice and I start to respond but he stands quickly. “It’s no big deal, Becs. We can worry about it later.”
* * *
The limo parks at the skate park built under some bridge. Outside, the crowd’s formed, cheering loudly for a glimpse of their heroes. “Let’s pray,” Nico says.
I almost laugh, because praying seems so out of character for these guys. I wait for someone to crack a joke about it, but they don’t. They just bow their heads and close their eyes, all while I look on in disbelief. Nico clears his throat, his accent full when he says, “Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep…”
Someone should probably tell them this is a bedtime prayer… not one used in hopes for luck before something important.
He continues, “…and if I die before I wake…”
The others join in sync, including Josh, “…I pray in heaven, I can skate.”
* * *
The three-hour event flies by so fast I barely feel it. The first two hours was just the boys skating, showing off tricks, their love for their profession evident in their smiles and banter. During the last hour, the guys give the crowd the opportunity to earn giveaways—boards, shirts, sunglasses, and those stupid booty shorts. Reece suggests a wet T-shirt contest for those, to which—going by their hoots and hollers—the crowd agrees. Josh shuts it down real quick, eyeing me from across the way, obviously trying to tell me that it’s not at all what goes on when he’s on the road with the boys.
I shouldn’t be worried, but I am. There’s this constant tightening in my chest. It’s there every time a girl calls his name, or when they smile at him in ways that makes it clear they want what I sometimes have… but the worst is when they speak.
They speak.
And I don’t.
“Did you get some good shots?” Josh asks, his hand on my leg once we’re back in the limo and away from prying, public eyes.
I nod, keep my head turned, and stare out the window, wishing for the same silence in my mind that’s a constant from my lips.
As soon as we’re back in the hotel room, he says, “You okay?”
With a shrug, I sit down on the edge of the bed and start removing my shoes.
He adds, “You haven’t said a word since we got in the car.”
My gaze snaps to his, my eyes questioning.
“You know what I mean,” he says through a sigh. “Did something happen there?”
Nothing happened. But at the same time, it feels like everything’s changed. “Things have definitely changed, huh?” Cordy says for me.
“What do you mean?” He leans against the desk on the other side of the room, his arms crossed, keeping his distance.
I chew my lip, my thumbs hovering over my phone as I choose my words wisely. “You and me… we’re not just a boy and girl playing house in your apartment anymore.”
“But we’re still the same people, Becs.”
I don’t know if I agree with him, but still, I say, “And you think it’s enough?”
He stares at me a long moment, his eyes narrowing more with each passing second. “What are we even talking about right now?”
“Nothing,” I type quickly.
“Bullshit nothing.” Josh pushes off the desk and squats in front of me. His eyes search mine, worried and confused. “What’s going on? You overwhelmed or something?”
I shake my head and after a loud exhale, I type, “I get that this is your job. Your passion. And I know I’m being petty, but I just didn’t expect all these girls around you all the time.”
He sighs, frustrated, but not at all surprised by my admission. “That’s what this is about?” he says, standing quickly. He begins to pace, his hands locked behind his head. “We have two days together. This is our last night and you want to do this now?”
“I told you it was petty!” Cordy says. I wish she came with more than just a play button. Like a whiny shout one.
He stops pacing and turns to me. Shaking his head, he says, “It’s just kind of rich that you’re the one bringing this up. Especially when I’ve been faithful to you when you weren’t even mine. When there was no faith left at your end and you moved on with that other guy—”
“Aaron,” I whisper. I don’t know why I say it. Why out of all the things I could possible say it’s that.
He tenses, his breath catching before his eyes drift shut and his fists clench. “I know his name. I just don’t want to say it.” He goes back to moving, pacing back and forth, all while I stay silent, my heart aching.
Sinking.
Breaking.
Josh rubs the back of his neck. “This is so dumb,” he mumbles, turning away from me and toward the bathroom. “I’m going to shower.” He removes his shirt, revealing the onset of bruises and scrapes on his back from today’s skate session. I’d seen him fall too many times to count, and he’d seemed momentarily frustrated, angry with himself, but he never once showed any sign of pain.
I stand quickly, drawn to him, my fingers reaching his back before the rest of me does.
He freezes in his spot, his shoulders sagging when my hand flattens on the sores. “It’s nothing,” he whispers.
After moving past him, I start to r
un the water in the oversized tub while he leans on the doorframe.
He watches me.
I watch the water.
We don’t speak. Not when I turn the water off. Not when he strips naked and gets in the tub, then motions for me to join him. Not even when I sit opposite him, my soapy hands running slowly over the dark spots on his shoulders.
I wish I could take it back. Wish I’d never said anything. Because now the mood’s turned dark, dull, taking away the shine from the rest of the time we’ve spent together. I run my finger over a scar on his right shoulder and finally make eye contact with him.
He swallows loudly. Then explains, his voice low, “I dislocated it one too many times. I had to have pins put in.”
I nod while my hand moves down to his elbow and I thumb the long scar I noticed while I was with him over winter break. “Last broken elbow. Bone popped out.” His eyes are sad, just like mine. He lifts his hand, making the water cascade around us. “I have more scars than skin,” he says, his lips curling at the corners. He reaches up, his thumb skimming the scar on my collarbone.
I freeze momentarily, my mind clouded by darkness.
At some point, I’ve expected him to ask about them, and I knew that I’d have to confront my past, but I also knew that no matter how much I thought about it, how many times I’ve played out this moment in my mind, I’d never be prepared. Never.
Josh presses his lips gently over the tough skin before pulling back and looking at me. First my eyes, then my lips, then down to my hands. His voice shakes when he asks, “You feel like sharing stories?”
I hesitate a beat, then dry my hands on a towel and reach for my phone on the counter. Josh pulls me closer to him, his hands on my hips and my legs wrapped around him until there’s nothing left between us. “Are you sure?” Cordy asks for me.
He lifts his gaze. “Only if you are.”
We take a moment, my pulse quickening and my mind racing while the air turns thick.
“It’s going to hurt,” I warn him. “It’ll probably hurt you to hear as much as it’ll hurt me to tell you.”
