How did he know?
After a few seconds, I wrap my arms around his ribs and let my weight collapse into him. It feels good to be held, especially when that holding has intention. I close my eyes and let it happen. I allow myself to feel comforted.
He buries his nose into my hair and sighs. I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face, even if I do try for a split second to hold it back. But I don’t try very hard, because for someone so God-awfully annoying, he’s good at this kind of stuff.
“I’ll sleep on the couch.” He whispers when he finally lets go.
“You don’t have to…”
But he doesn’t let me finish, and I’m so happy for it. I want to sleep in a bed.
Hell, I just want to sleep.
We say goodnight and he flips the light off as I curl up under the covers. I close my eyes, and allow my exhaustion to finally take over.
And take over, it does.
Until I feel him shake me awake.
“Wake up. Caroline, wake up.”
“What? What?” I spring up, fearing a catastrophe has happened. “Is it an earthquake?”
“An earthquake?” He stops shaking me, and laughs.
“Yeah, California has earthquakes. Don’t laugh. It’s bound to happen sometime.”
“California does have earthquakes.” He agrees with me.
“Then why are you laughing?” Now I’m getting defensive. Why won’t he stop laughing?
“Because California isn’t currently having an earthquake.”
“Then why’d you wake me up?” I purse out my lips to show him I’m not happy about it.
“You must have been having a nightmare, you were screaming.” He pushes my hair from my face, suddenly changing.
“I didn’t realize.” My eyes refuse to focus, as I’m still half asleep, but it makes sense. I don’t remember the nightmare, but I can feel it. Maybe that’s why I thought it was an earthquake. I can feel the ache in my bones. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He caringly smiles. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“I am.” I nod, but I think I’m lying.
“Good.” I can tell he doesn’t believe me, and I’m okay with that. For some reason, I don’t want to hide from him. “Then I’ll…” his gaze at me softens. “I’ll get back to the couch.
I let him reach the door before I stop him. “Wait.”
“Yes?” He quickly spins back around.
“Stay.”
“Here?”
“Please?”
He’s already in bed and under the blankets before he says, “of course.”
That certainly didn’t take much convincing.
He keeps his distance, which I really appreciate, and yet, honestly, am slightly disappointed by. But just knowing he’s there makes me feel safe.
I feel a little guilty after hanging up on Nick earlier that I’m now laying in the same bed as Johnny. It’s not like anything is happening or will happen, and yet I still feel guilty. Or maybe it’s that I feel guilty that I don’t really feel guilty.
Emotions: what the heck?
I begin to drift back off to sleep, but before I do, I reach my hand out to the center of the bed. I don’t really know why, or what I’m hoping for, but when I feel his fingers wrap around mine, it all makes sense. He must have been hoping for the same thing. I close my eyes and fall asleep.
The next time I open my eyes, the sun is shining through the lightly draped windows, and I can feel its warmth on my face. I haven’t moved, I’m still curled up on the same side of the bed, but Johnny is no longer on his side. He’s wrapped around me, his arm slung over mine, and his leg wrapped around my hip.
But I don’t say anything. I just lay there with a smile on my face.
Johnny Braylock, my childhood crush, is snuggling with me.
Life can be pretty funny sometimes.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Johnny’s been on set for seven hours so far today with only a few quick water and snack breaks, and in that time, neither of us have mentioned how we woke up wrapped around each other.
I can tell we’re both hoping that if we don’t speak about it, maybe we’ll both forget.
Not because it was awkward, but because it wasn’t. Actually, when I rolled over this morning and looked up, I could have sworn he was staring at me.
And I stared back.
I hear the director yell “cut”, and Johnny steps off the set.
“Hey.” He jogs over to me.
“Hey back. You have your lunch break in twenty minutes. They’re giving you two hours.”
“Perfect.” He chugs his water bottle before the make up artist comes over to retouch his bumps and bruises and scratches and scars.
“What would you like to eat?” I grab a notepad and pencil from my back pocket.
“Hmmm.” He sucks his teeth. “You know what, make us those kale and pineapple smoothies.”
I begin to jot it down, but stop. “Us?” I look up at him.
“Yeah, you’re going to have one too. I’m teaching you how to fight today, remember?”
Although I do remember, I feel like I’m being a burden. “It’s a long day. We can do it another time.”
“Oh no, no, no.” He chuckles as he takes another swig of water and turns so the make up artist can touch up the bruises on his shoulders. “Tomorrow will turn into the next day and the next day will turn into the next day. I know how these things work, Caroline. We start today.”
Then he takes his shirt off. Really? That’s how he’s going to put his foot down? I mean, there’s a reason for taking his shirt off: they want to give him a clean one to start the scene over again. But still, it’s no fair that he can make an argument and then end it that way. If I tried that… well, it wouldn’t be on a movie set, I’ll tell you that.
I’m sure it wouldn’t have the impact that he just had.
Damn him and his muscles.
I walk off set in a daze, knowing I have to make smoothies, and put on something to wear that I can work out in, and something else.
Something else… something else…
You know when you know there’s something you have to do, it’s on the tip of your tongue, and yet, you absolutely cannot think of what it is? And then you think it might not be that important because you can’t think of it, but then you wonder what will happen if it actually is important and you don’t do it. That wouldn’t be good. So instead, I try to walk around in a circle and pinpoint the last place I was when I reminded myself that I had to do that one thing. And then I rack my brain, trying to find a trigger, and I look at my phone to see if maybe I put it on my to-do list, which I definitely should have done, but the likelihood that I did…
I have to call Nick.
See, pacing led to my phone and my phone reminded me that I had to call Nick.
“Hey you. Hung over?”
I hear him groan on the other end of the line.
“Do you want me to call again later?”
“No. Now is good. How are you?”
I haven’t talked to the boy in over two weeks. How are you?
That’s not a question I can really answer right now.
“I’m fine, Nick. How are you?”
“I miss you, Caroline.”
What am I supposed to say to that? Because the truth of the matter is that I don’t miss him. Not once in the last two weeks did I wish he were there. I wished someone were there, yes, but not him. I wished to be held, yes, but not by him. I wished for someone to talk to, to cry to, but never once was he the one on my mind.
And I’m not saying someone else was on my mind. Actually, no one was on my mind. My mind was blank.
I never felt more truly alone.
“Did you hear me, Caroline? I said I miss you.”
“I miss you too, Nick.”
I don’t condone lying, but I just don’t know what else to say.
“What happened to you? You disappeared.”
So I tell him. I tell him everything, even that Johnny was trying to get me to spend the night and I locked myself in the closet. I tell him about trying to walk home because I was too drunk to drive, and I couldn’t find a cab. I told him about the group of guys and not being able to defend myself.
I told him about Johnny finding me and taking care of me and getting my car, and my license, and my credit cards, and lending me cash…
And Nick said nothing.
“Hello?” I’m not sure if I lost him.
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“Well, they took my phone, Nick.” I blew air out from between my lips. “And by the time I finally got another one, you had already left me those very comforting messages.”
It was pure sarcasm, and I made sure he knew it. He hurt me. I didn’t feel bad for keeping him out of the loop.
“You need to come home.” His tone is dead serious.
“Excuse me?” I hope he’s kidding.
“I’m serious, Caroline. You’ve been playing this game long enough. It’s time to come home.”
“Game? What game, Nick?”
“Your writing thing. It’s obviously not working.”
“I’ve only been here for four months.” I can’t control my anger.
“And what have you accomplished? I got a promotion. You got mugged by a bunch of gang bangers.” He clears his throat: his way of telling me that he’s made his point.
I much more enjoy Johnny’s way of ending the conversation, come to think of it.
“Why are you laughing?” He interrupts my little fantasy.
Shoot, I guess I was laughing at the thought of Johnny making his point by pulling off his shirt. I didn’t realize I was laughing out loud. Whoops.
“Nick, I have to go.” I don’t even answer him, because shirtless Johnny is now standing in front of me.
“Who is it?” Johnny winks as he whispers.
I raise my eyebrows at him to let him know I don’t think he’s funny.
“Nick… Nick…” And he’s yelling at me. “I’m hanging up.”
Johnny pries my phone from my fingers and raises the receiver to his lips.
“Caroline is mine for the next two hours. Sorry bud.”
And then he hangs up.
“Johnny, what the heck?” I know I’m going to get an earful about that exchange later.
“What?” He shrugs and winks again. “It’s true.”
“You can’t just wink and think everything is cool. You just told my boyfriend that I was yours and then you hung up on him.”
“I said for two hours. He can have you back after that.”
“Not the point, Johnny.”
“What are you wearing?” He changes the subject as he steps back from me.
I give up. I’ll deal with it later.
“A tee shirt.” I throw my arms in the air. “Is something wrong with a tee shirt?”
“You’re wearing a baggy tee shirt and baggy sweatpants.” He corrects me.
“Yes, comfortable work out clothing.” I press my lips together, hoping I don’t scream at him.
“But I need to see your body.”
“Oh my God!” I explode. “You know what? If you can’t take this seriously, I’ll find another teacher. I think I’ve made it quite clear that I have no interest in sleeping with you. Can you get that through your thick skull, or should I just walk away right now?”
I think I’ve made my point. He doesn’t give me one of his quick responses, just looks to the ground and takes a deep breath.
“Caroline, I need to see your body and how it moves so I can make sure you’re doing the things I teach you correctly. That way, you won’t hurt yourself in the future.” He takes another deep breath and coyly smiles. “Is that okay with you, Miss Carver, or do you need to walk away right now?”
Okay, now I’m officially embarrassed.
“I don’t have anything else.” I mumble.
He tilts his head while he looks at me. “First thing’s first: are you blind?”
“What? No!” I defend, not really knowing what I’m defending against.
“Good. Give me your glasses.” He holds out his hand.
Oh, he meant to ask me if I was literally blind, as in: can I see without my glasses on.
“I can’t keep them on?” I twist my face, not wanting to give up my glasses.
“Not unless you want them to break.” He shakes his head at me as if I asked something really stupid.
I guess I kind of did.
“Fine.” I pull my glasses from my face and look away as I hold them out to him.
“Hey. Look at me.” He softly coos.
I quickly bat my eyes as they focus, but do as I’m told. “What?”
He takes a single step into me, but doesn’t come any closer than that. “You’re really pretty, Caroline.”
Why is it that every time he has me convinced that he’s the most self-centered, egotistical jerk on the planet, he then goes and says or does something so absolutely genuinely good-hearted? That really confuses the crap out of me.
“Thank you.”
“Now for the second thing.” He gives me his quintessential Johnny wink. Awesome. What could he possibly have in store for me now?
Johnny grabs his backpack and pulls out a small plastic bag.
“What is this?” I question as I catch his throw.
“I figured you might need it, so I had one of the P.A.’s run out and buy an outfit for you.” He smiles.
“You know, dude,” I jokingly refute, “I’m your P.A. That should have been my job.”
“Eh, I didn’t trust that you’d buy the right thing.” He winks.
“There you go winking again. I can buy my own clothes, thank you.”
Without another word, I steal away to the other side of the trailer, behind a small curtain I put up so that Johnny wouldn’t have an excuse to continually drop his pants in front of me. I quickly strip off my tee shirt and sweatpants and reach inside the little plastic bag.
“Uh, Johnny?”
“I’m right here.”
“I think your P.A. gopher forgot half of the outfit.” I grumble, hoping I’m right.
“Let me see.” He tries to peel back the curtain, but I stop him.
“No!”
“Caroline, I’ve seen you in just a bra, remember?”
He tries to make it sound innocent, but I know better.
“You did this on purpose.”
“I told you: I need to see your body. Now I can.”
He overpowers me and the curtain is ripped from my fingers.
“Yes I can definitely see your body now.”
I try to cover up, but it’s a moot point. I’m wearing nothing more than a black sports bra and some sort of underwear that is disguising itself as shorts. I’m pretty sure I actually have underwear that covers more than these.
“I’m going to say it again: you did this on purpose.” I shake my head as I drop my hands to my sides.
He rapidly blinks, but doesn’t take his eyes off of me. I can see the corners of his lips rise in a devilish sort of smile.
I’m not going to lie: I don’t hate it.
He’s still staring at me, and not talking, so after I feel that he’s gotten enough of a show, I speak up.
“Fine. I’ll wear this. But I’m wearing my tee shirt and sweatpants to walk over to the gym.”
“Or…” Johnny wets his lips. “We could have your first session in here.”
“Jonathan Michael Braylock, did I not make myself clear?” I even stomp my foot to bring his attention back to my eyes.
“Michael?” His entire demeanor changes. “How’d you know my middle name?”
Freaking IMDB. Why did I ever have to Internet stalk him?
“I made it up.” I quickly ramble. “Was that right? Michael? Wow. What are the chances?”
“You didn’t make it up.”
So I completely brush it under the rug. “Read
y to go?” I awkwardly laugh as I pull my sweatpants up over my hips and slip my arms through my tee shirt.
He makes some silly jokes as we walk across the lot, mostly about how much I must have been in love with him as a child to know what his middle name was.
I make a mental note that I should never let it slip out that I also know he can tap dance. But wow, I would really like to see that sometime.
After I disrobe and Johnny wraps my wrists, we climb into the ring. He says he just wants to get a sense of my strength and knowledge of defending myself, to which I reply that he has his work cut out for him.
“Remember what I looked like when I woke up in your apartment that morning?”
He obviously remembers, but brushes it off. “This is good though. It means I don’t have to break any bad habits.”
Oh, you can definitely break some of my bad habits.
Oh my God, why did I just think that? Why did that thought flash through my mind?
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