#1 Crush

by T Gephart

  “Oh. I guess I didn’t really think about it that way.” Or any other way. Thinking was something I could probably do more of—back there, in that club, before I got in the car.

  “What were you there for Tia?”

  Those fucking eyes were going to be my undoing. Twin glaciers that made my blood stop flowing in my veins when he looked at me. I didn’t stand a chance.

  “To see you.”

  Like I said, I didn’t stand a chance. My mouth volunteered stuff it had no business to. I blamed those eyes.

  “Really?” He seemed surprised, a pleased grin spreading across his lips. “Well that is interesting.”

  “I freaking knew it.” Ryan who had been largely silent up to this point smacked his hand across the steering wheel. “Tia, I left you for like ten minutes? How could you forget me so soon? I told you not to fall in love with him.” He took a dramatic breath, clutching his chest with the hand that had bitch slapped the steering wheel. “I knew I shouldn’t have left you with him,” he stage-whispered to himself.

  “And the rest of the cast,” I quickly added so I didn’t sound like a crazed fan who’d stalked Eric. Because who the hell did that? Shut up. I have no interest in fucking irony right now. “You know. I’ve never seen a big production up close. I was curious.” Yes, curious. Except I didn’t give a rat’s ass about the production.

  “Hmmm.” He didn’t seem convinced which proved how smart he was.

  I was supposed to be convincing myself he was terrible, not finding more virtues. Clearly I sucked at this. And because I couldn’t leave well enough alone, I had to ask.

  “What does that mean?”

  “I can see the attraction. To the seeing it all up close,” he clarified, his lips thinned into a tight smile. “It’s all pretty impressive.”

  “Yeah. I guess.” No, not really. And from what I could tell he wasn’t all that sold on the big deal either.

  “What?” The edges of his lips curled like he was suppressing a smile. “You weren’t impressed?” He leaned closer seemingly anxious for my reply.

  “By all of that? Ha, nope.” Not the words I had intended to say. I’d been baited and instead of just nodding and smiling, I got reeled in like an amateur. “I mean . . . maybe.”

  Yeah, too late. I could already see the satisfaction on his face.

  “No, your first answer was right.” He shook his head. “It’s bullshit. I’m glad you weren’t impressed. That’s twice tonight you’ve proved you aren’t one of them. I like that. Don’t apologize.”

  “Yeah, fuck the man,” Ryan called from the front, pumping his fist in the air.

  “Major childhood trauma.” Eric tapped his finger against his temple as he nodded in Ryan’s direction.

  “I heard that, asshole.”

  “I intended for you to.”

  The car pulled off the main road, the bright yellow, red and white sign greeting us. I wouldn’t be lying if I said I wasn’t slightly disappointed we had arrived. That was until I looked out the windshield and saw a sea of red brake lights. We were going to be here awhile.

  “They’re worth the wait.” Eric’s chin tipped to the line of cars in front of us.

  The burgers must be amazing because the drive thru was packed, bumper to bumper—rivaling Soviet Russian bread lines. No one was getting anywhere fast which was fine with me considering I had Eric Larsson sitting next to me. One hell of a view. They could basically serve me up liver with fava beans and a nice Chianti and I wouldn’t complain. I really was a sick individual.

  “Oh, I don’t mind. I was just going to sit in my room ordering room service and probably eat overpriced hotel nuts. So really, you’re saving me in a way.” Not to mention this development had surpassed my wildest expectations.

  “If you’re going to order room service make sure someone else is picking up the tab,” Ryan called from the front seat, his smirk visible from the rearview mirror. “Eric isn’t a cheapskate either, even pays for the Pay-Per-View.”

  Eric smiled rolling his eyes at the comment, which got me curious.

  “You pay for his room service?” Seemed generous, I mean I assumed they were good friends, but still.

  “He pays for everything,” Ryan volunteered. “And for that, he is handsomely rewarded. Driver. Wingman. Burger getter. Whatever he needs, I’m his man.” His head turned, eyeing Eric in the backseat. “So it’s just as well I didn’t take those shitty jobs advertising crap I don’t need. Who else is going to keep it real with you and keep your ass out of trouble?”

  “Something you remind me of daily.” Eric laughed, his eyes finding mine. “Besides, as much as he’s a pain in my ass—”

  “Lies. You love me,” Ryan interrupted.

  “I like having him around. Reminds me where I came from and there’s no one else I trust.”

  “Wow, that’s incredibly sweet.” The words slipped out of my mouth as I fought the urge not to swoon. Okay, maybe I did. Just a little.

  He looked at me, studying me closer than I felt comfortable with. I had to remember to breathe and assure myself that no one had mindreading abilities. As long as my mouth and the rest of me behaved he would never know how much I wanted to touch him. How much I wanted to kiss him. Just once. Knowing that nothing would come of it. And yet, I still wanted it.

  A car beeped rudely behind us, breaking our moment. Thank God too. If I had to keep looking at him, being this close, I might not be able to stop myself from doing something I wasn’t decent enough to regret.

  But my silent thanks only lasted a minute as the obnoxious horn continued. My body twitched, itching to get out of my seat, and when the horn blared again I had no choice but to twist around to see who the asshole was and where the hell was the fire.

  “Always some asshole.” Eric followed my line of sight, the dumbass in the car behind us not caring he was getting the stare down.

  Beeping at a stationary line seemed pretty redundant. I mean, where were we all going to go? It’s not like we were sightseeing in the parking lot, so you would think logic would prevail and the moron would stop manhandling his horn.

  Of course I had used the operative word that was logic, of which there seemed to be a shortage. Both inside and outside of the car—I clearly wasn’t in a position to judge, even if I was judging. And even though his heavy-handed antics didn’t magically move the line, he continued. Blaring his fucking horn like we all didn’t know he was a complete jerk.

  I should have sat silently and ignored him like the cars in front of us. Like the other occupants in the car. After all, other than pissing me off, it had no real effect on me. But I had a real problem with leaving shit alone. Case in point, I was in a car with Eric Larsson.

  As if my body was on autopilot, my finger hit the switch lowering my window, the obnoxious horn louder when it didn’t have the tinted glass as a buffer. And without giving it any more thought—not that there had been any real thought to begin with—I freed myself from my seat belt and twisted my body as far out of the window as I could.

  “Hey, asshole.” I glared at said asshole who was white knuckling the steering wheel of a bright red Prius. “You’re at a drive thru on a Monday night. If you had somewhere important to be, you’d be there. Stop beeping your fucking horn.”

  I twisted back into my seat, feeling mildly satisfied. Getting out and beating on the guy’s hood would have been better but I compromised. And honestly, I had tried to resist, but a girl could only take so much.

  Eric didn’t even try to hide his laugh, his torso shaking as he gave me an approving nod. Ryan on the other hand had his head twisted around looking at me like I’d grown another head.

  “She’s from New York,” Eric offered, looking through the back window at the now silent Prius.

  “Oh, well okay then.” Ryan shrugged like that had been enough of an explanation. “Well done, New York.” He shifted his attention back to the front as the line edged closer to the speaker.

  “Yeah, well done, New
York,” Eric echoed, my home state lingering erotically on his tongue as his fist playfully nudged me in the arm.

  It wasn’t hard, a tap really, but he had touched me and that wasn’t something to be taken lightly.

  “Thanks.” I awkwardly tapped him back, stopping myself from letting my hand linger.

  Hey, I didn’t start it, but if touching was now on the table I couldn’t be expected to sit still. I could only be strong for so long.

  Ryan placed our order of double-doubles—a burger I was told I was going to love—and fries, and we slowly inched closer to the window.

  “Here’s your order.” A tiny blonde woman who couldn’t have been any older than nineteen stood smiling at the pick-up window. Her smile widening as she shyly passed Ryan a box of food and a tray of sodas.

  Ryan handed her a fifty, but she shook her head refusing the money.

  “It’s on the house. We get people like that all the time; it’s nice to be appreciated. Tell your friend in the backseat thank you from all of us.”

  “Thanks, will do.” Ryan thanked her again and pulled out of the drive thru. “Free burgers. Tia, is it too soon to say I love you?” He handed back food and drinks to Eric, shooting me a wink before rejoining traffic.

  “You should see what I can accomplish when I try.” I laughed sipping on my soda.

  “I’d love to see that.” Eric pulled the wrapper down from his burger and took a bite.

  Eating shouldn’t be sexy, especially not fast food. I was always nervous about spilling stuff on my dress or having the burger explode in my lap—we’ve all been there. But Eric made it look obscene. His lips moving slowly, the flexing of his jaw—I could feel myself staring. And even though my mother had told me it was rude, I couldn’t make myself stop.

  “You’re not one of those girls who doesn’t eat, are you?” He looked down to the untouched burger beside me. “Because if you are, you are missing one hell of a burger.”

  “No, I eat,” I said, housing my soda in the cup holder as I picked up my fries and shoved some into my mouth.

  I wasn’t sure what I was trying to accomplish, but seductive wasn’t it. The handful I’d taken was too big, puffing my cheeks out as I tried to chew. My mouth looked like a blowfish, a stray fry protruding from my lips. How he was able to resist me was a mystery.

  He smiled, reaching up to brush some salt off of my cheek. “It’s good, huh?”

  “Mm-hmm,” I moaned, my mouth still mostly full. And PS, I wasn’t agreeing about the virtues of In-N-Out Burger, even if it was delicious.

  Thankfully he didn’t keep watching, turning his attention back to his meal so I could swallow without it feeling like I was starring in a bad porno. True story, in my head I could already hear the cheesy 70’s music as I swallowed hard. That old Carl’s Jr. commercial featuring Paris Hilton had nothing on me.

  “So, we going back to the party?” Ryan called out in between chews. “Or are you done?” The latter part of his question obviously directed at Eric.

  I had just worked up the nerve to take a bite out of the burger, the wrapper folded underneath it to ensure I didn’t make a mess, when Eric turned back toward me.

  “What do you feel like doing?” He watched me take the most delicate bite I could. “You want to go back?”

  “Hmmm?” I mumbled trying to make my jaw move faster before stopping suddenly, the flavors exploding across my tongue. “Oh my God, this is good. I mean I wasn’t expecting much considering this looks like a glorified McDonald’s.”

  Not to mention this was L.A, we had a zillion burger places on the east coast and even the worst ones were pretty good. I didn’t hesitate and took another mouthful, anxious to see if that first great tasting bite had been a fluke. Nope, just as awesome as the second time around. “Wow.”

  “I told you.” He seemed pleased, taking another bite. “If you have room after that, I know a great place for dessert.”

  I stopped chewing.

  Swallowing hard.

  Oh no. It was a bad porno.

  And I wasn’t sure if I was actually horrified about that.

  Be horrified, damn it.

  “No, not like that.” He laughed, the look on my face betraying what was on my mind. “It’s a diner, they make like a thousand different pies.”

  “Oh.” I laughed nervously, halfway relieved, the other half disappointed. “I probably shouldn’t.”

  And thank God the voice of reason decided to show up. Because this—whatever this was—had gone waaaaaaaay past the point of being innocent. It needed to stop. Sooner than later.

  “You sure?” He hesitated, and if I didn’t know better I would have assumed he wanted me to stay. But that was projection. Me, wanting him to want me.

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  No! No, I’m fucking not. Why I picked that moment to be responsible was ridiculous. I was ridiculous, but I knew there was no way I could look at him eat pie and keep my tongue in my own mouth. So I guess it was for the best. I mentally flipped myself off.

  “If that’s what you want.” His voice was low, a rumble. And it took everything not to just throw myself at him because heading back to my room alone was not what I wanted.

  “Yeah, I’ll just head back to my hotel.” That’s it, keep talking. Do not leap into his lap. “You can drop me off at the party, and I’ll catch a cab.”

  “A cab?” Ryan scoffed. “Are you knocking my driving, New York?”

  “No, I just didn’t want you to go out of your way.”

  “It’s not out of our way. Where are you staying?”

  And therein lay the problem.

  Because them going out of the way was the least of my concerns. My no-tell-dollar-by-the-hour hotel would blow this ruse right out of the water. Not to mention I didn’t fly out until Wednesday, so I’d rather lay low without signposting where I’d been hanging out waiting for the law to arrive.

  “The Roosevelt.” It had served me well in the past, what was another little white lie. “Please.”

  “Nice place.” Eric leaned forward and tapped the driver’s seat. “You heard the lady, Ryan.”

  “Yes, boss.” Ryan mock saluted as he headed in the direction of my fictitious hotel. I would call a cab from there and go back to my shitty room with no room service. So many things to look forward to. Not.

  The drive there was relatively silent. I wasn’t consciously trying to keep my mouth shut but there wasn’t a lot to say. Strangely, even as the traffic and lights passed us by, it wasn’t awkward. I relaxed into the comfortable leather seats and soaked up what I knew would be the dying moments of my amazing night.

  When I eventually got out of the car, it was going to be over. This semi-fantasy world I’d been floating in would end because none of it was real. I would get back on a plane, go back to my life and go back to admiring Eric Larsson from afar. That’s the way it was supposed to be. And while I hadn’t unveiled some vile and horrifying character traits that would cure me from this sick obsession—quite the opposite really—I would have to find some other way to get him out of my system. Because that’s what normal people did and I had to, at the very least, try and be normal.

  “Here you go.” Ryan pulled up to the lobby of The Roosevelt, the ride ending too quickly.

  “Thank you.” I unhooked my seatbelt and reached forward, resting my hand on his shoulder. “Fuck the man,” I whispered in his ear.

  “Hell yeah, New York!” He nodded, the grin threatening to split his face apart.

  Before I had a chance to reach for the handle, my door opened, Eric Larsson and his fuck-me suit was standing on the other side of the car door waiting for me on the sidewalk. He looked so perfect, the lights from the lobby illuminating his face just right. His hair slightly mussed, his pristine blue eyes on me like I’d imagined them a thousand times. Except this wasn’t my imagination, he was right there. Life had a very sick sense of humor.

  “Tia Monroe.” He smiled nodding his head slightly. “Thanks for making m
y night more interesting.”

  He was thanking me? Was I in opposite world?

  “Oh, you know. It was the least I could do.” I laughed like an idiot, my wayward hand leaping from the safety of my side and landing on his rock-hard chest.

  Bad move.

  I literally had to threaten amputating each finger, one at a time, to stop them from caressing him. Honestly, I wasn’t positive it wouldn’t be worth losing a hand over.

  “Well. Um. Thanks.” Without thinking—something I hadn’t been doing a lot of lately—I leaned in closer, reaching for a hug. If I thought the hand on his chest was a mistake, getting in his personal space was insanity of the highest order.

  His sexy man scent assaulted me, wafting up my nose and chloroforming me before I had a chance to pull back to safety. That had to be the only explanation why I wrapped my arms around him like a boa constrictor and laid my head on his chest.

  Which, in hindsight, only exacerbated the problem. All that sexy man up my nose up close and personal, I’m surprised I didn’t strip down in the street and volunteer my vagina as tribute. Please Lord, if you are up there, don’t let me be saying any of this out loud.

  “Larsson.” His name hissed out of my lips as I pulled back, my mind reminding me that as much as I wanted to inhale the man, it was neither possible nor socially acceptable.

  And without saying another word, because I couldn’t trust what those words would be, I unwrapped my arms and marched my ass into the lobby of a hotel I had no business being in. Which essentially was the theme of the night. Me being places I wasn’t supposed to be.

  Thankfully he didn’t say anything either, but I could feel his eyes on me as I disappeared.

  In all the times I’d imagined him, never, and I do mean never, had I imagined myself walking away. Yet here I was. One foot in front of the other and I was gone.

  REALITY WAS AN ASSHOLE.

  It was also less favorable when you were in a bed that wasn’t your own. No, I didn’t turn around and thrust myself at Eric as he proclaimed his undying love for me. Taking me to his bed and doing things to me that would be guaranteed to make me walk funny.