#1 Crush

by T Gephart

  My nose sniffed the air, Nancy Drew-ing my way through the room. A wet towel hanging out of the hamper, the bath mat still damp. He’d been here.

  “Eric,” I called out again, my bare feet running back through the bedroom and into the hall. “Hey, are you here?”

  Silence.

  Nothing.

  Nada.

  The house was just as quiet as it had been when I’d come upstairs from dinner—no lights and no noise.

  Rather than turning on every light in the house and playing a late night session of hide-and-go-seek, I decided to go back to the bedroom and check my phone. See what time it was first and send him a message second. It would probably be a good plan to invest in some walkie-talkies sometime in the next few days too, make tracking down each other in the Larsson Manse a little easier.

  “What. The. Fuck.” I stared at the lit-up screen, five a.m. staring me in the face.

  My hour or so nap had been an entire night’s sleep. Or coma would be a more appropriate description since Eric obviously came home at some point, possibly got into bed with me, and I slept through the entire thing. We were supposed to have new-state sex which obviously hadn’t happened because my sexy negligée I’d slipped on before bed was still very much on me.

  I wasn’t sure if I was more sad or disappointed as I slid back into bed and dialed his number.

  “Good morning, gorgeous.” His morning voice huskier than usual. “You’re up early.”

  “Hey.” My voice struggled to maintain composure. “Why didn’t you wake me? I wanted to see you.”

  “You looked so peaceful sleeping and I didn’t want to wake you. That thing you were wearing last night made it difficult though, I had a hard-on all night.” He chuckled against my ear.

  “I wished you’d woken me.” I tried hard not to sound like I was sulking. “I tried to wait up, but the flight and the time zones . . .” I took a breath. “I wanted to see you.” I was positive I’d already said that.

  “I’m sorry.” He sounded disappointed. “If it is any consolation, I held you most of the night. The early morning sucked, but I’m hoping to finish up early tonight.”

  “Okay.” I took another breath trying to force a smile. “Well, have a good day, I’ll see you later.”

  “See you soon, New York.”

  It was a day.

  I could survive a freaking day.

  There were heaps of things I could do to keep myself occupied. Work would be a smart choice. Get my next column knocked out so I could avoid writing in the bathroom like I had over the past week. Exploring his house was also a good option. I loved to snoop. I hadn’t even peered into his medicine cabinet last night—checking out all those rooms? That would be a two-day exercise at least. Not sure why I was worried about entertaining myself. I had plenty to keep me out of trouble. And when Eric got home I could give him my undivided attention.

  So that’s what I did. First, I pulled out my laptop, figuring I’d be responsible for a change. I spent a couple of solid hours discussing whether sexy man scent was a mental phenomenon or if pheromones actually existed. The jury was still out. After I’d completed my column and submitted it to my editor—early I might add—I decided that snooping should be my next priority. After all, if I was going to be staying here for a while then I should know my surroundings. Say, in case of a fire and I needed to find the closest evacuation point, or to see where Eric stashed his porn. All valid reasons to explore.

  And as I strode from room to room, opening drawers and cupboards—I’d yet to find any porn—it became apparent that while the house was undeniably grand, it was also very boring. Sure, the furniture in his living room alone was worth more than two years of my salary but it was all very meh. Did he actually like this stuff or was it just here to fill rooms? I made a mental note to discuss it over dinner.

  Ryan didn’t seem to be home through the day either. Even though we had informal plans for me to see the inside of his Eric/Ryan built cottage, the place had been a ghost town.

  So I continued exploring Eric’s house. His fridge and cupboards were stocked to the brim with food, but I wasn’t really in the mood to eat. It was while I was standing at his kitchen counter nibbling on some crackers I had the idea that I could cook dinner. Take advantage of the insane kitchen with all its fancy gadgets—the likes that would never be seen in mine.

  It was a perfect solution. And one that meant I could surprise Eric and show my gratitude at the same time. Plus there’d been that time where I’d offered to cook in my apartment and didn’t, so I sort of owed him anyway.

  Pulling ingredients out of the fridge, I had the makings of pasta sauce. It was simple enough and once I got it simmering, it could cook for hours. This was important as I didn’t know exactly when dinner was. Plus calling to ask Eric when he would be home seemed too needy-girlfriend for my liking.

  It was late afternoon when Ryan poked his head into the kitchen, the smell of homemade pasta sauce and basil smoking him out.

  “Wow, you can cook?” He lifted the lid of the simmering pot and took a deep, lingering sniff. “This smells amazing.”

  “Yes, I can cook.” I shook my head wondering how anyone my age could survive without knowing the basics at least. “It was either learn to cook or starve and I liked eating too much.”

  “I like eating too but prefer to toss money at the problem.”

  “You mean Eric’s money.”

  “His, mine, as long as I get to eat who cares?” He picked up the wooden spoon and gave the sauce a stir before bringing to his mouth to taste. “Fuck me, this is good.”

  “I’m glad, now don’t even think of putting that spoon back in. Lord knows where your mouth has been.” I pulled out a new spoon in case he got any ideas. “Sooooo . . . any idea when Eric’s getting home tonight?” I asked casually, not at all sounding needy.

  “Well, he’d want to be getting home soon, or he’s going to be missing out.” He tipped his chin to the simmering pot.

  “Yeah, he’ll be missing out all right.” And I wasn’t talking about the fucking sauce. I missed him and needed to adequately show how much.

  With my mouth.

  And other parts.

  I pushed away the sinking feeling in my stomach that he might not show.

  No, he would come home. I reminded myself he wouldn’t ask me to come all this way to be decorative.

  Still it was hours, and I was just about to say fuck it when I heard a car pull up, my pulse kicking into marathon pace as I waited for him to come through the doorway.

  “Hmmmm something smells good.” Eric strode into the kitchen, looking tired and unshaven. “You’re cooking?” He moved closer, putting his arms around me and pulled me in for a kiss.

  It felt so normal, his arms around me as he kissed me—the most natural thing in the world. Just like any other regular couple, seeing each other at the end of the day. And for a few moments I believed that was true. That even though we weren’t a regular couple, we were doing more than playing house. That the man who had his arms around me wasn’t just a movie star, but a man who had found his way into my heart.

  “Mm-hm.” I mumbled against his mouth not wanting to break the contact even to say words. I allowed myself to indulge the fantasy a little longer.

  “Can you hurry up and do whatever it is you’re going to do so we can eat?” Ryan called out from behind us.

  “Ignore him.” Eric flipped him off as his other hand tightened around me. “He didn’t get hugged enough as a child.”

  Eric kissed me again and then reluctantly let me go. It didn’t take me long to finish dinner, but he found a way to keep his hands on me the whole time. I liked being touched, and it made me feel like he’d missed me as much as I’d missed him.

  We ate dinner at his round kitchen table—the one piece of furniture that looked semi-normal—and while the conversation was easy, I wished that I had Eric all to myself. I didn’t have to wait too long though, Ryan disappearing as soon as the
food had. He must have sensed it too, our desperation to be alone.

  “You want to go to bed?” Eric asked, loading the last of the dishes into the dishwasher.

  “Yes.” I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him. “I want to go anywhere you’re going.”

  “Good, because that question was more rhetorical.” He walked me backward toward the stairs. “I didn’t want to have to throw you over my shoulder and carry you there, but I would have.”

  “Such a beast.” I laughed against his chest, the tossing over the shoulder completely unnecessary.

  It was a challenge getting up the stairs. Neither of us was looking where we were going, only able to find our way by his stellar recollection of the layout of his house. Our bodies were intertwined as we made our way to his bedroom, one of his hands throwing open the door while the other stayed on me. Even though we’d spent the night together last night, this would be the first time I was actually conscious for it.

  It felt different, him being in the room with me. Like I somehow couldn’t get close enough even though there was virtually nothing between us.

  “Hey.” He pulled away from me for a second, holding my face in his hands. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I just really want to hold you right now.”

  It was weird. Ordinarily the idea of being this close to Eric and not sleeping with him would be unthinkable. Why stare at a piece of cake and not eat it? Insanity. But the last few days made me realize that I wanted more than just sex from him. And what I was craving tonight wasn’t lust. I wanted to feel affection not just attraction.

  “I feel it too.” I nodded, looking into his eyes. “I want you to hold me.”

  We stripped off slow, but it wasn’t sexual, our clothes being discarded on the floor as we slipped in between the sheets. His body consuming mine as he wrapped his arms around me. It felt like a shield, like nothing bad could ever happen while he held me.

  God, I was in love with him. Not falling, not could be, but certifiably in love with him. And even though it had happened so fast, there wasn’t a thing I could do to stop it.

  “What are you thinking about?” His hand moved up my back, pulling me closer against his chest.

  “Nothing,” I lied, “I’m just happy.”

  I wanted to tell him.

  To look into his eyes and tell him that I loved him. I wanted to say those words and possibly hear them back, but it was too soon.

  If there was even a chance that he wasn’t on the same page, it would kill me. Not to mention he would probably run a million miles in the opposite direction. I would lose him, completely lose him and I’d rather hide my feelings than risk it. Because as brave as I pretended to be, I’d never been more scared of anything in my life.

  “I’m glad you’re happy. I’m happy too,” he whispered, his lips finding mine. “You sure you don’t want to tell me anything?”

  It was as if he knew.

  Either that or I’d mumbled something in my sleep. Crap, I had a tendency to do that sometimes so I couldn’t be sure. Still, I couldn’t be held accountable for things I said while I was unconscious.

  “No, nothing.” My head shook even though my heart was nodding. “I mean my mind is a random place so there is lots of stuff I could tell you, but they really aren’t conducive to this moment.”

  “Okay, New York.” The chuckle deep in his throat. “Just know you can tell me anything, whether it’s conducive to the moment or not.”

  And didn’t that just make me love him more.

  Eric Larsson was no longer my number one crush. No, he was way beyond that. And I prayed with everything I had he wouldn’t be my number one heartbreak.

  IT HAD BEEN A WEEK.

  The days had melded into one another, and I’d fallen into a ridiculous state of bliss. Eric was gone most of the day, which gave me time to work, and when he came home we’d spend every moment together. I missed my life in New York, my friends and family—but I couldn’t even contemplate going back. Not yet, maybe not ever.

  Some nights we’d slip into bed and talk until we both fell asleep. I’d tell him about my childhood or what it was like growing up with two sisters and he’d do the same. His stories about being the oldest of five boys were hilarious, I actually pitied their poor mother. Sometimes we’d talk about nothing at all important, but it meant everything to me.

  I learned he was a huge football fan, but didn’t get to enough games because of work. He also told me he once got kicked out of an Oakland Raider’s game for being drunk and disorderly but escaped being arrested because the officer’s daughter had been a fan. A signed ticket stub and a photo secured his freedom and after that he stopped drinking so heavily. It hadn’t happened often he said, but being so young and famous made it easy to act stupid. He saw so many of his Hollywood buddies make the same mistake, throw their careers away on a good time. And he didn’t want to be that guy you saw stumbling out of a club at three in the morning just because he could. He also shared that other than act he’d never wanted to do anything else, his path so clear he hadn’t even considered another option.

  I wasn’t able to share as much, which cut me deeply. I told him about college, conveniently omitting my major. Instead concentrated on my time discovering myself on the road, traveling the world.

  Other times we wouldn’t talk at all. He would hold me and make love to me with an intensity that threatened to consume me whole. I thought I’d been in love before; I thought I’d had a man make love to me but never, never like this.

  But at no time did either of us discuss what was happening. What it meant for us to be together, or how each other was feeling. No real plans made as to how long I’d stay or if he wanted me to. I wasn’t going to be the first to say anything and so we were stuck in this weird state of limbo where everything was wonderful but nothing felt permanent.

  It was a Tuesday when Eric asked me to meet him for lunch. Shooting for his new movie hadn’t started, but he was still required at the studio and he wanted me to visit him during the day.

  Of course I agreed. Hell, I’d been curious to see where he’d been spending his time and who he was working with. Not that I would have demanded an invitation, I wasn’t that insecure, but since he offered you could bet your ass I said yes.

  Ryan had offered to drive me despite repeated assurances that I could A: Drive and B: Operate a GPS if given the address.

  “You’re not driving my car, New York.” He shook his head, arms folded tightly across his chest.

  “So, let me drive one of Eric’s cars.” I held out my hand hoping a key would drop into it.

  Eric not only had a BMW i8 that he’d been driving to and from the studio but also Audi A8 and a Porsche Panamera. All a little pretentious for me and about a million times faster than my Buick but I was positive nothing I couldn’t handle.

  “You get road rage at a drive thru, you think getting behind the wheel of a seventy thousand dollar set of wheels is a good idea?” His smirk dared me to argue.

  “I just have less tolerance for people’s bullshit,” I corrected, hoping to remind him what had prompted my reaction. “If people wouldn’t act like assholes on the road then they wouldn’t have to worry about my road rage.”

  His raised eyebrow and smirk told me he wasn’t buying it, the car keys staying locked safely in his palm.

  “Just get in the car, it will be fun. We’ll sing show tunes.” He gave me his best jazz hands as he opened the passenger side door. “I’m lying about the show tunes of course, because I don’t know any and you sound like a cat dying when you sing.”

  “Just shut up and drive.” I flipped him off and then pulled the car door shut.

  Ryan chuckled as he hopped into the front seat and started the engine.

  It was a beautiful day, the sun was warm even through the obscenely tinted black glass and other than being annoyed at being chauffeured around I was in a great mood.

  We drove out of the hills and to the studio which didn’t lo
ok as exciting as I thought it would. It was less Disney back lots and more airplane hangar, with large white and grey buildings sprawling across a huge landscape of grey concrete. There was a boom gate though, and a blue uniformed guard in a hut checking ID as we entered so my illusion wasn’t totally shattered.

  “One guard?” I scoffed as we cruised through the entrance and headed toward the spot designated for parking. “It would be so easy to sneak in here.”

  “You can’t just walk onto a film set.” Ryan laughed not buying it. “You’d get maybe five feet before someone would kick you out.”

  “I bet I could do it.” No one expected me to be able to sneak into a film premiere but that hadn’t been too difficult. Not that I could ever use that as proof. Yeah, maybe I should just shut up.

  Ryan parked, ignoring my thoughts on the lax security and escorted me to a white shed looking building not far from the car. He took off to amuse himself when he saw Eric was standing right outside.

  “Hello, you.” I threw my arms around his neck and my lips at his face. “How’s your day been so far? Did you get to pretend kill anyone?”

  “Three people.” He kissed me back, looking a lot more relaxed than he had been. “My character is a total asshole, I love it.”

  “Good, because I love you.” It slipped before I could stop it. “I love you to be happy.” I added as I panicked.

  Red Alert.

  Red Alert.

  It wasn’t Eric’s character that was an asshole, it was my mouth. And it needed to go on complete lockdown.

  “So you want to go meet the cast and crew?” He thankfully ignored my jackass mouth or fell for my lame cover up.

  “Sure.” I tried to hiss out of the lips I’d condemned to muteness, my tight jaw no doubt making me look like a freak.

  “Something wrong?” He took a step back to look at my face. “You look like a ventriloquist.”

  “No, no. Nothing’s wrong.” I permitted the words to pass once I had triple checked that was all that was going to come out.

  “Ok-ay.” His brow rose, not buying it for a second. “By the way.” He whispered in my ear. “When you start acting weird, it’s like a massive turn on.”