Eric got his portrait done next and it was just as silly as mine, and after comparing rocks and chatting with the woman for an extra ten minutes, we piled back into the car. We spent the drive back in a comfortable silence with the windows down, and I wondered the whole time how such a small, random thing like a little portrait on a rock could make me feel like a different person.
When we finally arrived back at the studio lot, my car was now one of the only ones left there. He put his car in park, and then unbuckled his seatbelt, leaning over the center console. He paused there for a moment, just staring over at me, his gaze soft and open. It was almost a little startling, having that gaze turned toward me—I wasn’t used to someone who looked like him having any interest in me.
“Come here,” he said quietly. I shifted in my seat and then leaned in toward him, hesitating just a little. His eyes were so distinct, at the close distance—I could see flecks of gold and green around his pupils. He licked his lips gently and reached behind me to pull me into another kiss—less hungry this time, just soft and slow, like we were in no rush at all. I smelled his faint cologne, and it was inviting and somehow so right, and melted away any nervous feelings I’d developed during the car ride. God damn, it was absurd how fast he brought me back down to earth.
He pulled back slightly. “I’ve gotta say, you’re… a little bit of a goddamn weirdo, Dash, but fuck if it isn’t sexy as hell.”
I puffed out a laugh, feeling my face get hot. I met his eyes and reached a hand to his hip. “Thank you, Eric. I… guess I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It is.”
He eyed me up and down, and part of me wondered if he was going to jump me right here and now, in the car. I absolutely would have let him, and I held his gaze. But a moment later he just gave me a faint smile, leaned back, and stepped out of the car, clutching the jumper cables in his hands.
I got out and helped him give the car a jump, and after ten minutes, it was as good as new. I slammed down the hood and dusted off my hands, walking back over to Eric’s car.
“Thank you,” I said, looking at him sincerely.
“Anytime,” he said, stepping in close. “So. We aren’t filming the first actual Eric & Dash show until, what, two weeks from now?”
I nodded, and swallowed. “I want to see you again before then,” I blurted out.
He smiled wide. “Sure, let’s hang out. I’m actually going to a party this Saturday—would you like to come with me?”
Shit. Fuck.
“No,” I said. “I hate parties. I usually end up sitting in the corner reading a book while drunk people try to make out on top of me.”
He shrugged. “Okay then. No parties. I can do that. No problem. Um… then what about mid-day Saturday? I’m going to the farmers market. It’s the best one you’ll ever see. I know New York has great ones, but come on. This is Southern California. We grow everything.”
“Um…” I said, scratching the back of my neck. “Eric, I’m going to be blunt, here.”
He raised an eyebrow at me. “Sure… go ahead.”
“You are really fucking hot, and even though we absolutely should not have kissed today, I am so glad we did.”
A slow smile spread over his face. “Glad we’re in agreement,” he said.
“But,” I said, holding up a hand. “I am not looking for a relationship. At all. Like, I don’t plan on dating anyone for at least a year.”
He nodded, listening.
“So I’m gonna say this: I’m absolutely down to fuck you. But I don’t wanna date. You don’t have to invite me to the farmers market and take me on a cute little day date. I know you don’t do relationships either so… don’t worry about showing me a good time anywhere but bed.”
I paused, breathing deep and staring at the ground. My heart was slamming in my chest. I’d never negotiated a no-strings-attached hookup before, and asking for what I wanted in general was not something I was great at. I waited for Eric’s reaction.
But I was shocked to hear him puff out a light laugh, and take a step toward me, running a finger along my hip.
“Weird day dates are awesome, Dash,” Eric said, “You’ve just never been on one with me. Trust me, I would be delighted to fuck you afterward, but you should come to the farmers market with me.
I bit my bottom lip, hiding a smile. “Well, okay then. I’ll go to the damn farmers market with you, then.”
He nodded. “Awesome. And seriously, you’re gonna be begging for more weird day dates when I’m finished.”
“Whatever you say, Boy Band.”
“You like calling me that, don’t you?”
“I’d like to call you all kinds of things, Eric.” I felt my cock throb inside my jeans, and for once, I didn’t think I cared if he saw.
“Jesus,” he whispered. “God, when you fucking do that it drives me crazy.”
“Do what?” I said.
He let out a quick breath. “Get all… incredibly sexy, all of a sudden, out of nowhere. You’re so quiet and calm until bam—you lay something like that on me. I fucking like it, Dash.”
A smile crept onto my face. “Where is this farmers market?”
He laughed. “And of course you change the subject. Yes. Okay. The farmers market. It’s actually only a block away from Fries, down by the water. I can meet you there on Saturday at 1?”
I nodded. “Sounds good. Thanks for the jump,” I said, and took a step to my car.
“You fucker,” Eric said, and I turned back around. His eyes were bright, his smile wicked. “I fix your car and you think you can just leave?”
I pulled out my wallet, but he batted at my hand.
“I don’t want your money, are you crazy?” he said, and then his arm was around my waist, pulling me in. I expected him to kiss me, but he dipped to my neck, kissing me there along my jaw, then up to my cheek. Finally, his lips met mine, and I sighed into his kiss.
“That’s better,” he said as he pulled away. “See you Saturday.” Immediately I missed his arms around me, missed his mouth, his scent, his taste.
Do not get attached, I repeated to myself like a mantra on my drive home. Eric Ronson was made for sex. And that’s just what I wanted to do with him.
Saturday came soon, but of course not soon enough. I’d already doubted everything I’d done and said to Eric.
I kept telling myself I could do this. Casual sex. Just for fun. People did it all the time. But the whole thing was just so foreign to me.
I had a pit in my stomach as I walked the blocks from my apartment to the farmers market, despite the day being otherwise absolutely perfect. I almost felt guilty if I wasn’t happy on such a beautiful day, a light breeze blowing in the trees and the sun gently warm on my neck. It was like the weather was judging me for being such a downer.
I approached the entrance of the market and of course, Eric was already there. My heart thudded when I saw him, and even more when he looked up from his phone and noticed me.
“You’re early,” I said, striding over.
“You are too,” he said. I had no clue if he was going to go in for a kiss, but he didn’t, and it was a bit of a disappointment. “All I was doing this morning was playing this new video game I got, so I figured I should get out early and, y’know, actually enjoy the day.”
“I suck at video games,” I said, “like, terribly suck, you wouldn’t believe. And wow, this market is huge,” I said, sweeping my eyes over the array of tents and carts in the market. The place was packed, too—it seemed like everyone had thought it would be a good idea to come on such a nice day.
“I absolutely love it,” Eric said. “Come on.” He led me down through the main pathway, and immediately I was overwhelmed. I’d brought my camera with me, and every few seconds I wanted to stop and take another photo.
“Okay, you win, this place is amazing,” I said, looking down at a basket of fresh pomegranates, one of them sliced open, their deep red jewel-like seeds ready to be sampled. I turned to
Eric. “Are you looking for anything in particular?”
He shrugged. “Not really. I want to get some veggies to roast with miso and butter… and then I always like to pick up fresh fruit to keep around the house.”
“Sounds perfect.”
As we walked around I realized Eric had inadvertently chosen a great place for this weird half-date—it was a low-pressure environment, full of plenty of things to do, and there was food everywhere, which was something we both had an undying love for.
He caught my hand after I let go of my camera near a lemonade cart. He squeezed, pointing over toward another stand across the way, that had people lined up.
“We have to go there,” he said, pulling me forward. “They have the best peaches I’ve ever had in my life, and they’ll turn them into a bellini for you. I am buying you one, and maybe two for me.”
I followed him over to the line and we started waiting. He turned to me, taking off his sunglasses and meeting my eyes.
“So do you like it so far?” he said.
“I love it,” I said, looking around. “It’s slightly smaller than the one I used to go to in New York, but its better. It feels more personal.”
He nodded. “Told you. I’m good at day dates.”
I smiled at him. “You’re very, very good at them,” I said, feeling at once totally comfortable with him.
He smiled softly and then bent down to give me a quick, chaste kiss on the lips. Even though it was so quick, it was unexpected, and the first time he’d kissed me that day, and I immediately felt myself flush slightly. I held back a smile.
Fuck it, I was letting myself love every minute of this.
When we got to the front of the line, Eric ordered us bellinis, and I stood at the side of the cart near the fresh peaches. He came and stood next to me as we waited for our drinks.
“Ooh,” he said, pointing at the cut up peach samples. “Give me one of those.”
I picked up one of the peach slices. He held out his hand, but I bypassed it, instead holding the peach up to his lips. His eyes widened as he understood, and then leaned forward a little to take the peach from my fingers. I grabbed one for myself and then licked my fingers clean, eyeing Eric the whole time.
He let out a long breath, watching me. And Jesus, it was searingly erotic—just that tiny exchange, me feeding him a juicy peach slice, and him watching me eat my own. I had to look away, and quickly think about anything else, unless I wanted to risk getting achingly hard right in the middle of the damn farmers market.
A couple minutes later our drinks came out, and I brought mine up to my lips.
“Wait,” Eric said, digging out his cell phone. “Selfie.”
I was learning that Eric did this a lot, actually—took photos of me with his cell phone, while I was browsing food carts, taking pictures with my own camera, or browsing menus. He seemed to enjoy documenting his life.
He snapped a few photos of us with our drinks.
“Okay,” I said, “Now my turn. I’m not gonna do a selfie with my nice digital camera, but can I take one of you?”
“Oh, please do,” he said, immediately striking an outrageous pose with his drink held high in the air.
I laughed, and snapped a couple photos of him, maybe getting one that wasn’t silly.
We wandered around, casually day drinking, and within a half hour I could feel the bellini slightly softening my nerves, nowhere near drunk but just the slightest hint of a buzz. It was incredible, the sun on my skin and the ocean so near, caught in this colorful maze of gorgeous, fragrant fresh fruits, with Eric at my side.
And I was actually enjoying it. For maybe the first time ever, I felt like I wasn’t the New York weirdo in San Diego—I felt like I actually understood why it was so appealing, and how good it could feel. All thanks to some peaches, some pictures, and a ridiculous man.
Near the edge of the market, we came across a dapper man selling handmade salted caramels, and we each tried a sample.
“Good God, these are exquisite,” Eric said, his eyes fluttering shut as he ate his sample. “How in the hell do you do this?” he asked the shop owner.
“It’s easy, darling,” the man answered in a southern drawl, smiling at Eric. “You have to let the caramel go until its just dark enough. I don’t mess around with light caramels—they have to go deep and dark, right on the edge of too far.”
“Mmh,” Eric said, smiling at the man, “That’s how I like it.”
“Have another,” the guy said, holding out the tray, and Eric plucked one up, placing it on his tongue.
“God,” he said, looking at him again. “You are a master.”
I watched as the man smiled and nodded, and I swear, looked Eric up and down.
“Oh,” the man said, looking at me with disinterested eyes, “Sorry sir, you can have another, too.”
I looked at him blankly. “I’m fine, thanks.”
God, I did not like this caramel stand guy.
When Eric was done blissing out about the caramels, and the guy was done giving Eric a 20% discount on two bags of them, I pulled Eric toward me by his beltloop, until we were a few feet away from the crowds. I wrapped my arms around to the small of his back, and kissed him—deep and hot and urgent. He opened his mouth to me, and I tasted the dark caramel, before drawing back slightly and giving his lower lip a pull with my teeth.
“Holy fuck,” Eric whispered as I pulled back. His eyes were half-lidded when he opened them, looking at me in a daze. “Where did that come from?”
I gave a little shrug, and then moved in again to kiss him lightly on the cheek. I let him go after squeezing him on his sides. “Caramel shop guy was about to pounce on you, Eric,” I said, reaching over and wiping his shiny bottom lip with my thumb.
Eric’s face twisted into a grin. “Are you jealous, Dash?”
“No. But I do want you to myself this afternoon.”
He gave me an evil smile. “You are gonna have me. Don’t worry, I love that possessive, kiss-me-now stuff. No complaints from me.” Eric turned to a group of women a few feet away and I saw him blush a little. “Oh, shit,” he said, “but I do think we just gave those women a little bit of a show.”
I swallowed as I realized that the women were actually walking toward us. I hoped to God they weren’t about to give some sort of lecture, but instead, they smiled wide as they approached Eric.
“It is you!” one of them said, absolutely beaming and then laughing. “Eric Ronson! Oh my God, you were my favorite in 5*Star! I had a poster of you that I would kiss goodnight—wow. I’m so sorry to bother you when you’re… busy….” She looked in my direction.
Eric smiled. “It’s not a bother at all. And thank you so much.”
She let out a sound that sounded like a squeal. “Do you mind if we get a picture with you? This is so amazing—never thought I’d run into a celebrity at the farmers market!”
Eric laughed. “Absolutely. As many pictures as you want.”
They took a selfie together with her phone, and then Eric turned to me.
“And this is Dash Thompson—in just a couple weeks our new show on Eat Network is premiering.”
She turned to me, mouth open wide. “You too! Come on! Get in the picture!”
I felt myself blush, thinking the whole thing was a little crazy, but I went over squeezed in next to them. The rest of the women in her group took turns taking photos with us.
As they walked away, I turned to Eric and shook my head. “Everyone’s gonna be asking them who that weirdo is with Eric from 5*Star,” I said with a grin.
“Oh, shut up,” Eric said, “You’re gonna be a star in your own right, when this show comes out.”
It was strange to think about, but he was kind of right. I had been so caught up in my own anxieties lately that I hadn’t given much thought to the fact that so many people watched Eat Network. I’d never be as famous as Eric had been with 5*Star, but a small group of people might actually begin to recognize me. It was odd.
Eric and I eventually sauntered back through to the front of the market again, tossing out the empty plastic cups that had held our bellinis, and all at once I got a little nervous.
Because now it was gonna happen. What we’d planned on, and what I’d wanted—our predetermined, totally casual hookup.
“So you said you had video games at home, yeah?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said, gazing at me. “Sure do.”
“You wanna teach me?”
His face broke into a smile, and he nodded slowly. “Yeah, I’ll teach you.”
And so I walked with Eric up the hill to his house, heart pounding in my chest the entire way.
Seven
Eric
“Okay, you’ve gotta—”
“Shit!”
“Yeah—Dash, not that one—no no no—”
“Damn it! Fuck!”
I sank back down onto my couch, exhaling as Dash’s character in the Polar Midnight video game sank to his death down a big black abyss. For the 8th time in a row. Dash really hadn’t been kidding when he said he sucked at video games.
Dash put his controller down in front of the TV and turned to me, his eyes wild. He was sitting on the floor below me.
“Okay. Fuck this. I know I said I wanted you to ‘teach me’ and whatever, and yeah, that was a ruse to get you to take me back to your house, but now I am like raging at this goddamn video game and—”
“Whoa, whoa whoa, Dash,” I said, reaching down and clutching one of his shoulders. “Calm down. I know it can be irritating to die a million times in these games, but it’s just because you’re… you’re mashing the buttons all at once instead of actually, y’know….”
“What?” he asked.
“Instead of trying.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Trying? You think I wasn’t fucking trying? Oh my god, those stupid ice goblins kept coming up out of nowhere and—”
“Stop,” I said, firmly, and I sank down onto the floor next to him.
“Video games suck,” he said, like he knew how petty he was being.
I grinned at him, and then playfully pushed him down onto the plush rug, so that he was lying back on the floor. I put my arms on either side of him, pinning him on the ground, looking at him from above.
The Sweetest Star: Under the Stars Book 2 Page 7
