#1 Crush

by T Gephart

  “Why did you break up with Anna?” I heard myself say as I slowly straightened, my body not turning toward him.

  And now my mouth was against me too, bringing up his ex girlfriend. Kudos assholes, the both of you!

  “You want to discuss this now?” He moved closer, his arms circling my waist as he turned me to face him. “You want to talk about a girl I used to date?”

  “No, I don’t want to talk about her.” Thank you, Lord. “But you were with her and then you weren’t. And then you were with me.” Well . . . that prayer of thanks was premature, wasn’t it. Traitors. “And I have no right to ask but I need to know.”

  “Were you wondering if you had anything to do with it?” He picked up the towel I had minutes ago stripped him of and rewrapped it around his waist. No, my hormones were screaming. We don’t care about her; no one here wants to talk. Listen to us.

  “Yes,” my traitorous mouth answered. “I want to know.”

  His eyes studied me as he took a step back.

  I’m positive whatever hard-on he’d worked up was long gone, his want for me soured as I stood there. And as much as I wanted him, I wanted to know this more.

  “Anna and I broke up two months ago.” His voice was stoic, unemotional. “We agreed to be seen together until after the film premiere. She believed it would be mutually beneficial, and I didn’t care enough to argue.” He shook his head. “But it was over. Very much over.”

  “Wait, what?”

  They’d been broken up for two whole months? I’d seen them in pictures, gleefully filling their cart at Trader Joe’s—it had been a sham?

  “We agreed not to date anyone for those two months, keep up appearances, but we hadn’t been together in a long time.” He pushed out a breath before his lips curled into a half smile. “Even longer than the break up.”

  “So when you met me, you were—”

  “Single. And to be honest, even though you acted like you were under the influence of some serious happy pills, you were insanely hot.” The smile got wider. “Anna said goodbye before the movie even screened, snuck out the back door and headed to the airport. Ironically, I was glad she wasn’t around so I could try to find you.” He laughed. “Of course, a couple of days later a job she’d been earmarked for fell through and she was filmed drunk and making out with some other guy. Everyone made their own assumptions. We both knew the truth.”

  “I think I need to sit down.” I felt the room spinning, my skin suddenly feeling too hot. “This dress is killing me.” I yanked at the zipper at my side, needing the dress to come off.

  “Hmm. Not the way I’d planned it.” He laughed taking over for my uncooperative fingers as he tugged down the zipper. “But I’m enough of an asshole not to ignore the opportunity.”

  With my zipper down, I—in the most non-seductive, unsexy and most uncoordinated way possible—pulled off my dress. The offending fabric dumped on the floor as I stood there topless in my panties.

  Backless dress, so . . .

  “Mmm.” Eric’s eyes hungered over my breasts but didn’t touch them. “That dress is my new favorite.”

  He’d been single when I met him and still wasn’t seeing anyone. What did that mean?

  “I still think I need to sit down.”

  “That I can do.” He took my hand and pulled me into a hug, my breasts pressing against his naked chest. “Chair or bed? Your choice.”

  “Bed,” I answered, not trusting myself not to fall on my ass right now.

  “Good choice.” He walked me backward until my legs hit the mattress, gently easing me down on the bed before climbing on himself.

  “Better?” His lips gently kissed my shoulder as I nodded. The towel he’d been wearing was now MIA. “So anything else you want to talk about?”

  Well, there was no point not jumping off the cliff now, was there? It was all or nothing.

  “Are you sleeping with other women?” I kept my eyes dead ahead, not wanting to see his face before I’d heard the words.

  Whatever happened, I’d deal. But if I looked at him, and saw those eyes of his that made me feel like I’d taken stupid pills, I knew I’d be making bad decisions.

  “Um, what?” He laughed, his arms wrapping around me. “Is this a joke?”

  “No, no.” I tried to clarify; perhaps he hadn’t understood the question.

  “I don’t mean sleep in the literal sense, I mean we agreed to not fuck each other’s friends. But what about other people, who I may not know or be aware of.”

  “Wow, you are insane.” He barked out a laugh. “New York, you are killing me.”

  “Please answer.” Not sure what the laugh meant. Was he laughing because I was ridiculous—very likely—believing he’d be monogamous? Or because he thought it was funny I was confused—also likely. And neither told me shit. “I won’t be mad, I just want to know.”

  “No.” He stopped laughing, tilting my chin so he could look into my eyes. “I have not been fucking, sleeping or doing anything else with anyone else.”

  A breath I had been unconsciously holding slowly eased out between my lips.

  “Firstly, not sure when I’d have that kind of time. I’ve been spending almost every second with you.”

  So those girls . . . must have been for Ryan. Wow, who knew he was such a player.

  His thumb traced along my jaw. “And secondly, I assumed we were doing something here.”

  Well. Fuck.

  “Oh.” I prayed to the gods—all of them, hoping one of them would listen—that I hadn’t screwed up something amazing.

  “Yes, oh.” He shook his head gently. “What did you think we were doing?”

  It was like I knew it was the wrong answer but already having committed to it, my mouth saying exactly what had been on my mind.

  “Sex.” I grimaced, bracing for whatever furor would befall me.

  “You think I’d fly to New York just for sex?” His head tilted to the side in the biggest unspoken are-you-serious I’d ever seen.

  “I don’t know.” Well, when he put it like that, there probably was more cost-effective ways of fulfilling sexual needs. “You said I intrigued you, it was confusing to me.”

  It took him a minute—even though it felt like an hour—before he finally spoke.

  “It means that the two minutes I spent with you on the red carpet was enough for me to know I needed to see you again. At the bar, I wasn’t ready to say goodbye and when our night ended, I wasn’t going to let it be over.”

  Oh, sweet baby Jesus, my heart was about to burst.

  “But I live here, and you live there.”

  I hadn’t even got to the part where he was famous, gorgeous and rich and I wasn’t. I mean, I wasn’t poor, clearly had enough cash to fly across the country on a whim and buy too many lipsticks, but I wasn’t famous. At most I was “known”. As in the suspect was known to law enforcement. People read my columns and I got mail from readers who said they loved reading my work, they knew me. But no one was going to notice me on the street.

  “It’s a few hours in an airplane, across a couple of time zones.” He gave me a smile, wrapping his arms around me. “No major deal.”

  “No major deal.” I shrugged, my smile not convincing anyone.

  Actually a big fucking deal, and I knew I was asking for trouble.

  Epic-level trouble.

  “We could try and see what happens?” The way his lips pressed against my neck, he could have convinced me of anything. Want to go see if we can find Atlantis and live underwater? Sure, show me the way.

  “Yes, yes we could.” I was helpless to say anything else.

  “So, you want to talk some more?” His arms tightened. “Or do you want to do something else?”

  “Always something else.” I shoved away the evil thoughts of the trouble that would inevitably come. “Kiss me.”

  I WAS ALREADY IN BIG trouble.

  Instead of coming clean to Eric about the circumstances of our chance meeting—the proc
urement of my invitation and my less than honest details of employment—I panicked.

  Yes, I know it was stupid.

  I was asking for trouble.

  It was all going to blow up in my face.

  Yes, yes, yes to all of the above.

  But when he’d said all those nice things and how we were going to try and make this relationship—holy shit, did that mean I was his girlfriend?—work, I just couldn’t say it.

  He would hate me, see the web of lies I’d woven and never trust me. There was no way he’d understand my reasons, seeing it as deceit instead of the tiny—microscopic—white lie that it was.

  There was only one way to go from here. Slowly back away from the circumstances and establish a new truth. He’d never have to know. Besides, it was early days and if this didn’t stand the test of time then what was the point in putting myself through what would be equivalent to the Salem Witch Trials.

  Easier my way.

  Safer too.

  No one had to get hurt.

  Day one ART (After Relationship Talk) was easy. We woke up late, had sex, had a late brunch and then had sex again. The perfect start to a day.

  And we could have easily spent the day in bed—my preference—but decided to go to MoMA instead. He assured me this was regular couple behavior, but I wasn’t convinced. I humored him though because he liked the idea of being out in public with me. I liked that he liked that and figured if I had to be the no name girl he was seen in New York with, that was the cross I was happy to bear. Besides, I was confident no one would make the connection between me and Tia the writer from The Post. Or at least I’d convinced myself of that.

  We walked around the museum looking at the exhibits and I tried to be interested in what I was looking at. This was Piper’s domain, she would have been happy to wax lyrically about each piece, talking about the medium used and the often tragic life of the artist. Spoiler alert: most of them were horny bastards with STD’s or ended up in mental institutions.

  There was a tranquility to it though, one that I hadn’t expected and really enjoyed. Walking around, no one really paying us any attention. Sure he got approached a couple of times. A couple of autographs here, a cheeky selfie there, but for the most part they left us alone.

  From there we walked to Central Park, blending in with the tourists and the street performers, and just enjoying the sunshine on a perfect spring day. We found a quiet spot on the grass and kissed like a pair of teenagers.

  To finish, we went back to my apartment where I cooked dinner. Of course I hadn’t seen the inside of a grocery store in too many days to count, so me cooking dinner turned into eating pizza on my living room floor.

  Normal couple behavior was the theme of the day, and even though I’d been skeptical, I had to hand it to Eric. It had been what I’d imagined the perfect first date should be. With maybe more kissing and touching than usual. Oh, and we had sex more than on a regular first date too.

  Day two ART we hit a minor snag.

  While the day had started out similar to day one, Judith had summoned me for family time. Refusing wasn’t an option. She would have guilt tripped me into next week with a ferocity not even Opus Dei could have matched. Inviting Eric also wasn’t an option. You can’t bring your I-haven’t-even-called-him-my-boyfriend-yet to a family dinner. No, bad ju-ju. Besides, etiquette dictated that family meetings happened only after an established commitment had been made. Sure he’d met Judith before but that was incidental and couldn’t be helped, and he hadn’t known who she was. Trust me, taking a new guy or girl to a family event too soon would be putting the curse of a million suns on the relationship. Most would crash and burn.

  So we had reached an impasse.

  My first instinct was to make up some intricate story about how I needed the evening free. But as I was trying to unbury myself from the weight of deathly sin, I figured it was better to just tell him the truth. It was a family dinner, and while I would love to have him there, I didn’t want to risk the curse of a million suns. He was thankfully amused and not offended, and told me to enjoy my dinner with my sister and her family. I promised to make it up to him later that night. Compromise was awesome.

  It was easy to see myself falling in love with him. Not in the way I thought I had in the past—that was lust, infatuation. But spending time with him, getting to know him and not this character I’d created in my head—I could feel the feelings starting to build. Real feelings, the kind that made your chest ache because your heart felt so full. He was kind and smart and so real. Which sounded stupid because of course he was real. But his body, his face—they were such a small part of who he was. And the Eric I was spending time with I really, really liked.

  Day three ART, Eric had a morning meeting. He was great about balancing work and still spent an obscene amount of time with me, something I was struggling with. At no time did he take any of it for granted, and while he wasn’t technically working, if a meeting needed to happen, he wouldn’t say no.

  So I kissed him goodbye, telling him of all the wonderful things we were going to do once he returned. As the door closed, I was already powering up my laptop ready to transcribe the notes for my column I’d been typing on my phone. Any opportunity I got. Bathrooms, quiet moments when Eric would go over scripts—I would scribe out my thoughts just waiting for the time when I could get them together later. I even caught up with Lila.

  Look at me being all responsible. It was a piece of cake; I’m not sure why I was worried. All the while I had been slowly planting seeds that maybe show business wasn’t for me. It wasn’t as ingenious as I’d first thought.

  Casually I’d mention how the stress of auditions made me want to vomit. Unfortunately, instead of telling me that was a sure indicator I was not right for the process, he informed me how heaps of his actor buddies went through the same thing. He recommended yoga and told me it would get better. Fucking yoga. Because twisting myself into a pretzel would help the situation that really didn’t exist. I needed to try harder.

  “You know, I’m thinking it might be time to try other things.” I tried for the direct approach as I enjoyed my French toast. Breakfasts were better when we stayed at the hotel. No room service where I lived.

  “Like sexually?” He grinned, sipping his coffee.

  “No, I mean professionally.” I swallowed. Now or never, Tia. “Maybe acting isn’t for me.”

  “Really?” Eric lowered his cup, his attention focused on me. “Why do you say that?”

  “I think maybe I was in love with the idea of it. You know, it seems so romantic.” I smiled, knowing it was a mistake a lot of people made. “I just don’t know if I love it, not like you do. Not like I should.” My head shook gingerly like the thought had been weighing heavily on my mind.

  It sounded better than I’d planned, I was even convincing myself.

  “It’s not an easy life, New York, I’ll be the first to admit it.” His hand slid across the table and encapsulated mine. “But it has to be a compulsion. There has to be no other option or the rejections, the criticism will break you.”

  I was home free.

  Just a few more suggestions about how I didn’t feel my soul alight when I ran a line or how my heart didn’t sing when I stepped onto a stage and he would probably beg me to abandon ship. Nothing like a half-assed effort ruining it for all the serious folk. It was foolproof.

  It wasn’t until day five that my epic plan started to unravel.

  I was at my apartment because Eric had some kind of meeting. Once again I hadn’t paid close attention, thankful because it gave me time to work. And it couldn’t have come at a better time, because if I didn’t submit my column today by three, my editor was going to be on my doorstep. I’d already been late once this week.

  “I have a surprise for you.” He strolled in, all smiles, the keys I’d given him a day ago swinging from his fingers.

  “Really?” I slowly looked up from my laptop, trying to close it without drawing too much
attention. I wasn’t great with surprises. “Can I eat it?” Hoping that while he was out in the city he’d strolled past Godiva and felt compelled to bring me back a coveted gold box.

  “Um. No. But it’s great and I know you are going to love it.”

  He looked so pleased with himself, I didn’t know whether I should be excited or terrified.

  “So are you going to tell me what it is?” I tried not to strangle the words as they left my throat, my anxiety climbing with each passing second.

  “Nope, you are going to have to wait until tonight.” His finger tapped me on the nose. “I think you should invite your sister, Judith, to come.”

  Wait. What. What?

  “Judith?” Full-blown panic flooded through my body in a rush. “I’m pretty sure she can’t get away, you know the kids. She’s a busy lady.”

  Please Lord, whatever is happening make it stop. I will never tell a lie again.

  “What about her husband? Will? I’m sure he can watch them for a few hours?” He started offering suggestions that normally would have been helpful. “Maybe they can get a sitter and both come out.” He held up his hand ready to stop the barrage of rebuttals I was about to offer. “And before you start with the curse of a million suns, it’s not a family event. We’ll just be out together.”

  “Gee, Eric. I don’t know. My family is sort of crazy.” My hand rubbed the back of my neck praying for a freak storm dumping thirteen inches of snow on the city in May. “I don’t know.”

  “So pick up the phone.” He handed me my cell lying beside my now closed laptop. “And call. The most they can say is no. It’s important to me.”

  Great.

  I was so screwed.

  Either I threw caution to the wind, hoping like hell his big surprise was something harmless he wanted to share with me and my sister—it still didn’t make sense. Or I disappoint him and possibly raise a shit ton of questions as to why I didn’t want to do this.

  Rock meet hard place—and there I was, right in the middle.

  “Sure.” My jaw tightened as I accepted the phone from his hand. “I’ll call.”