by Paige North
And in that same timespan, I’d somehow managed to convince myself that the lies were truth—I really was Sophie Adams, struggling screenplay writer who’d moved to LA and tried her hand at acting on a lark.
“Are you going to send me off with Steve,” I asked Leo, pressing myself to his chest as we prepared to leave Malibu and head back down to our apartments. “Or will you be a gentleman and drive me yourself?” I rose up on the balls of my feet and kissed his neck. He ran his hands down my arms, sending chills all the way to my toes.
“If you keep that up we won’t be driving anywhere.” He took my face in his hands and kissed me.
Just as I suspected, Leo had a sleek matte black sports car, all loud engine and low to the ground. He drove me back to my little place in very unglamorous Culver City, which happened to be near the Epix movie studios. The drive wasn’t much better, in terms of us keeping our hands off each other. I couldn’t stop leaning across to him to get my lips back on his neck and face, kissing him like some madwoman. I reached down and felt how hard he was for me. Being selfish and wanting more of him, danger be damned, I pressed harder, eager to pull him right out of his jeans, right there in the car. But Leo pulled my hand away and said, “If you don’t stop, I am seriously going to wreck this car and kill us both. And then we’ll never get to do that again.”
I wasn’t sure if it was the threat of death or of never touching him again that finally made me stop, but I did manage to stay in my own seat for rest of the drive.
When we finally arrived at my apartment I was wet as hell and wanted to fuck him right there in his car but knew it was impossible. I also knew I couldn’t invite him inside my scrappy apartment with my roommate. So I kissed him goodbye, and gave his dick one last hard rub.
“God, you’re cruel,” he said.
When I went inside, Ava Marie was sitting in the living room watching TV and stretching.
“That was you in that fancy car outside?” she said, eyeing me coolly.
“Hey,” I said. Had she seen who I was with? She leaned over her leg, resting her cheek on her knee.
I tried to keep my voice light, to encourage a friendlier exchange. “Look, I’m sorry about Friday night.”
“Sure. Just don’t ask me to set you up again,” she said. “Michael was annoyed and I looked like an asshole. But anyway, you look like you had a fairly satisfying weekend.” She sat up and looked me up and down. Was it written on my face all that I had done over the weekend? Was I so transparent?
I locked the door behind me.
“Someone from work?” she pressed. “Or the actor guy you mentioned?”
“Sort of,” I said.
Ava Marie eyed me as if she was waiting for me to say what, I didn’t know, but it made me really nervous. I felt like I was being questioned by a cop.
“He must be a pretty good actor to be able to afford a car like that,” she said. I took off my shoes, ready to race to the sanctuary of my bedroom, away from her questions and accusing eyes. “He also looked a lot like someone I know. Some celebrity. Leo Armstrong?”
When she said his name, I froze.
“That was Leo Armstrong, wasn’t it?” she said. “I looked out the window when you guys drove up.” I swallowed hard against the nerves thrumming through my body. “What the hell are you doing with that guy? He has the worst reputation with women.”
“I know. I’m not with him—it’s not like that,” I stammered.
“Then what?” Ava Marie asked. “Sophie, I know you’re still finding your way here, but you have to look out for yourself. Don’t start getting mixed up with men who are only out to use you.”
“I’m not.”
“You have to be smart,” she pressed.
“I am,” I said, frustrated.
“No you’re not,” she insisted.
“Listen,” I said, moving into the living room and sitting on the arm of the sofa. I suddenly realized I was actually going to tell someone the truth. Maybe it was because I’d been holding back for so long, dying to confess my sins to Leo. Telling Ava Marie was a risk, but I couldn’t seem to keep it all to myself anymore, and besides, she’d already discovered some of the truth on her own. I took a deep breath, as if readying myself to jump off a cliff. “You can’t tell anyone. Okay?”
“Okay what?” she asked.
“I’m working on a story for the magazine,” I said. “It’s about his reputation with women.” I don’t know what I expected her to say.
“Oh, shit,” Ava Marie muttered. “Sophie Scott, you better be careful. Do you realize who this guy is?”
“Of course,” I said, and shots of his heavenly blue eyes looking down at me flashed across my mind. I shook my head. “I know what I’m doing.”
“Crush magazine—and you—are going up against the head of Epix Studios,” she said, as if it was the most ridiculous concept in history. “Don’t lead this guy on, Sophie. You’ll regret it.” The warning in her voice, the look on her face that told me she’d seen more than I could ever imagine in this town, made my stomach do a backwards somersault.
“Everything’s under control,” I said as I felt myself tremble.
Ava Marie leaned back over her knee, going back to her stretching. “This can only end in disaster,” she said, and ominous was not a strong enough word for how she said it.
My perfect weekend was officially over.
That spilled over into Monday, with Kait hovering in my cubicle, once again asking about Leo. I realized it was the only time she spoke to me—in drive-by fashion asking about Leo.
“I need more,” she said, when I told her lamely that the great Leo Armstrong didn’t watch classic movies. “Something real. Do you want to write or not? Don’t give me this baby crap you’ve been feeding me. We need more. We need real. We need dirt. It exists on this guy. Don’t tell me you can’t find it.”
It wasn’t just all that had happened over the weekend—and a lot of good stuff had happened—in the living room, the bedroom, the shower, the kitchen, a little on the deck... And it wasn’t just the way he’d looked at me in all those moments, like he was really seeing me and connecting to me. I shuddered thinking about his eyes on me as he caressed my face making love to me. It wasn’t just that. It was all that was said. He was so honest with me, telling me about his family, sharing details about his grandmother, not to mention the secret screenplay. I felt that he had truly let me in.
But then I remembered what he’d told me about having false expectations about what our relationship was really about, and I felt sick all over again. I really shouldn’t have fooled myself, thinking Leo Armstrong made love to me. He fucked me. Just like he did other girls. Right?
“I got his phone number,” I told Kait. “He said he hadn’t meant to keep it from me, just that his assistant set up the phone.”
“Right,” she scoffed. “Have you tried the number yet? Probably won’t go through. I bet he accidentally gave you the wrong number, and it’ll be another week before he tries again, and then there’ll be another excuse and then he’ll be done with you. He’ll be on to the next piece before you ever get his real number. That’s how these guys operate, Sophie.”
I looked down at my phone resting on my desk, and wondered.
Kait let out a deep, annoyed sigh. “What else?”
My brain didn’t know which way to go. I didn’t know what to believe. Before I’d walked into my apartment last night I had believed that I’d just had the best weekend of my life. Now I didn’t know what to believe. Was I being played? The worst of it, I realized, was that Leo couldn't play me because he’d already laid out his rules for me, for us. I didn’t get a say in it. What about how I felt?
“He told me,” I began. I rubbed my hand across my forehead.
“Yeah, what?” Kait pressed, her nails clicking on the top of my cubicle wall.
“He told me that he’d never get married or be in a serious relationship because his parents have gone through so many marriages th
at he thinks it’s meaningless.” It wasn’t verbatim, but Kait was making me sweat.
“A mommy complex, huh?” she said, and I didn’t correct her. “Nice, I like it. That’s something we can probably use. Make sure you stay on him, okay? Get all you can before he gets bored of you.”
“Maybe I’ll take him to the drive-in, for my other piece,” I said, kind of thinking—dreaming—out loud.
“Don’t get the two confused, Sophie,” Kait warned me before walking away.
I wanted to text Leo right then and prove Kait wrong, that it really was his phone number, and he had made an innocent mistake in not giving it to me. It wasn’t about control, not like that, anyway.
I sat back in my chair, feeling nauseous about what I’d just told Kait about Leo’s family. It’s not like he’d told me it was a secret or anything, I told myself. Besides, I still hadn’t told anyone about the screenplay.
I looked down at my phone, tempted to text Leo right then and prove Kait wrong, that I did have his number, that one thing about him was true. But then I worried about looking foolish to Leo, bothering him during work, and right after we’d spent the whole weekend together. I didn’t want to look desperate.
The week trudged on, and I did hear from Leo again—in the form of messengered versions of Untitled Armstrong. He didn’t want any of it sent through email, too afraid that he’d get hacked and his secret project would be revealed. I’d mark up the pages and send them back to him, then he’d send back notes on my notes. I’d work half the night on rewrites only to have him tell me to consider the character from this angle, to look at the scene from that perspective. It was never good enough.
And then I’d go to Crush and there was Kait, breathing down my neck for more gossip of Leo. She was insatiable, practically foaming at the mouth for any negative word on Leo.
“It’s been days and you haven’t even spoken to him?” she said.
“I don’t want to push him,” I said, which was partly true.
“Don’t you dare let him slip away.”
Which was the last thing I wanted to do. But not for the same reasons as Kait.
A few days later I got an email from Pam, subject line: Story
Need drive-in story for New Girl. When will it be done?
I quickly wrote back that I was working on it and would have it to her in a few days. I sent the email, knowing time was really ticking, and I had to get on it.
Her reply came back swiftly: Make sure it’s a date piece. Take romantic type with you.
She certainly didn’t waste time with her requests, I thought. Her emails read more like text messages.
The writing of the story wasn’t a big deal. I was looking forward to it. But the fact that I needed a date was what gave me pause. In a city full of gorgeous men, finding one to go out with me seemed daunting.
I had the upcoming weekend to get it the article done. I thought about asking one of the other girls in the office to set me up with someone for the drive-in. I couldn’t go back to Ava Marie, that was for sure. To stall, I went to the web site for the drive-in the see what was playing that weekend. When I saw the movie, my stomach dropped.
Dead Poets Society.
Like it was meant to be or something. How could this movie be playing after Leo and I had talked about it so recently? And right when I needed to do the New Girl story for my column? I became excited by this sign from the dating gods, and with little more thought than that, grabbed my phone and texted Leo—or at least the number he’d given me. Finally, I’d find out if it was real or not.
Dead Poets Society playing Friday at drive-in in Silver Lake. Go with me?
I sent the message and held my breath. Nothing came back saying it was a bum number, so it went through to someone. Now I just had to wait until he responded—however long that might be.
Turned out it wasn’t but a couple of (excruciating) minutes.
Sure. Meet at my office.
Okay, so it wasn’t enthusiastic or warm and fuzzy but it was a yes, and that’s all that mattered.
“Who is that?” a voice over my cubicle wall said. I jumped, not expecting someone to be lurking over my phone.
“Oh, hey, Alexa,” I said, turning to look at her. She nodded back to my phone, waiting for an answer—totally annoying, by the way. She was in on the Leo story, and I thought that maybe opening up to her might help us become closer. I still felt like such an outsider at Crush and was eager to connect with some of my co-workers.
“Actually,” I said, lowering my voice, “it’s Leo.”
“No shit?” she said, raising an eyebrow.
“He’s my drive-in date this weekend.”
“Your date?” Alexa said. “Uh, you sure about that?”
“What?” I asked, feeling like a bug under her sharp gaze.
“Nothing,” she said, backtracking. “Take Leo Armstrong to the drive-in. Whatever. Just make sure he stays in the car. You don’t want to create a stampede with people spotting him at the snack counter or anything.”
“Right,” I said. “Thanks.”
“Have fun,” she said, walking away.
It was good advice—I couldn't afford to be spotted out in public with him, lest people find out who I really was. But why did Alexa’s warning feel more like a threat?
I was being paranoid, I told myself. Everything would be fine.
15
I arrived at Leo’s office and parked my car in the underground garage. I was full of nervous energy, an army of butterflies fighting in my stomach. I was excited to see Leo again, but feeling a little shy at the prospect of taking him on a date. In public. We’d only been out at restaurants of his choosing so I’d always figured in the back of my mind that if someone snapped a picture of us, I couldn't feel guilty—or be blamed. But now it was like he was on my turf—a landscape I hardly knew.
I was escorted into his office by one of his assistants—I think he had four, but I couldn’t be sure. Most of the vast office was empty, it being late in the evening on a Friday.
“This place is a regular Fort Knox,” I said, taking in Leo’s expansive office with a killer view. “I had to go through four gatekeepers, a key card–protected turnstile, and a metal detector.”
“People want to steal ideas as much as they want to steal money,” he said.
“I guess the ideas are money, huh?” I said, setting down my bag.
“And a lot of money at that,” he said. Finally, his eyes took me in. “So we’re going to watch this movie?”
“Yes,” I laughed.
“And I’m expected to watch a movie sitting next to you, in a car, wearing that.” He stepped closer, stopping just from me, his hands tucked safely in his pockets.
“What’s wrong with this?” I said, looking down at my cut-off shorts and tank top. I’d decided to forgo any Crush closet clothes and opted for my own, picking out something I would wear on a casual outing with a normal person. None of which was true, but I was trying not to overthink the evening.
“Absolutely nothing,” Leo said, “if you want my hands all over you all night.”
“We’re watching the movie,” I said firmly. He groaned.
The woman who led me into Leo’s office stuck her head in the doorway. “Do you need anything else from me?” she asked.
“No, thanks, Elaine. See you Monday. You can close the door,” he added. Once Elaine had gone, the door firmly closed, he turned back to me, his eyes blazing with desire.
He closed the small bit of space between us. He slid his hand down the front of my shorts, grabbing hold of my crotch and pressing his fingers into me. I sucked in a breath, my eyes falling shut.
“Did you think wearing these would keep me from you?” he said, dipping his head close to my face. “Did you?”
“No,” I breathed, as his hand continued to move slowly across me.
“I didn’t pay you,” he said, pushing on my now wet pussy, “nearly enough attention this weekend. I intend to make up for that
.” He guided me backward until the back of my legs hit the armchair in the corner. “Sit.” I did. He nudged my shoulders back, then pulled my hips down lower on the seat.
He started by kissing the tops of my thighs. My heart raced, seeing him down on the floor in front of me. I reached for his head to run my fingers through his hair; he caught by hand with his lips, kissing me. His eyes found me, the lust in them clear, and I thought I’d cry out before anything really started. He made my body feel as if it were floating.
His hands continued on my thighs, his palms running flat across them, kneading them and making me squirm. He unbuttoned my shorts and slowly pulled the zipper down. I lifted my hips, moving myself a little closer to his face as he slid the shorts down to the floor. He moved forward and covered my thighs with kisses, his hands all over me, on my hips and up my stomach, over my breasts. My eyes fell shut, and I couldn’t sit still, moving myself closer to him, desperate for him to take me. When he pressed his lips on my pelvis and I groaned. He kissed me there, and then under, right where I was soaked the most. I begged him, desperate for him to take down the last scrap of fabric separating us. I already pictured his mouth there, and flashed back to the plane, when I had him fully in my mouth. My jaw went slack at the memory. I wanted him to take me.
“Impatient, are we?” he said, a smile dancing on his lips.
“Yes,” I breathed. “Please.”
He took the fabric of my panties and I lifted my hips again. A hint of shyness crossed me, being naked from the waist down with Leo on his knees in front of me. But if I was shy then, it was nothing with what he did next.
Leo took my leg under my knee and draped it over the side of the chair, opening me up to him, fully exposed. I hoped I didn’t disappoint him, but then one look at his face showed me he was more than pleased.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he said, my sex clenching for him, teased out of its mind with his lips and tongue being so close but not yet touching me. He started his kisses again on the inside of my thighs. My legs seemed to have minds of their own, spreading wider, showing Leo more of myself. And then he was there, his tongue sending quick flicks over my nub. I cried out. The need for more was almost unbearable. I looked down, and seeing his face between my legs was the sexiest sight I’d ever seen in my life.
