by Este Holland
It wasn’t so silly then.
Chapter 8
First Dates Are Supposed to Be Awkward… Aren’t They?
Adam
My lips pursed in a silent whistle as Truman pulled up to his mansion on Malibu Beach. The moon sat like a fat white gourd at the horizon, making the ocean glitter like sapphires. I took a deep breath of the clean, salty air. You couldn’t get this in Pasadena.
I’d finally agreed to go to his house for dinner, seeing as how he’d not paid a bit of attention to the movie and we were both starving. And I agreed that a restaurant was out of the question for us.
Adam’s Date: Failure.
Truman waited with a patient smile, something I’d never have associated with him. “You like it?”
“I love the ocean.”
“I’ll show you the view from my bed—kitchen.” He gave a little cough. “After you.”
“Your bed-kitchen?” I asked with a raised brow. “I’d think you could afford to separate the two rooms in a place like this.”
He tilted his head and smirked. “Funny.”
Truman opened his front door, and I took in the extravagant surroundings: marble floors and dark wood furniture, spotless and sterile as a showroom. He led me to the right, and I stopped.
“Is that a Jackson Pollock?” I walked to the painting hanging over the white sectional that took up half the room, and the painting did the same with the wall.
“It is. Do you like art?”
“I like it. I’m not an expert or anything.”
“Drink?”
I looked over to see him standing by a small table covered in a heavy white tablecloth. There were dishes and crystal glasses empty and waiting, a single red rose in a small vase, and new candles that Truman lit with a slim silver lighter.
My spine stiffened in small degrees. Here it comes. My shoulders crept up around my ears, and my breathing changed. Why was he doing this? I didn’t do fancy dinners by candlelight. But then, he didn’t do cheap theaters and popcorn.
“What’s wrong?”
My eyes flew to his. “What makes you think anything’s wrong?”
“Your whole body just went tighter than a straight virgin at a gay bar.”
I snorted and slapped a hand over my mouth. Truman gave a lopsided grin, one I hadn’t seen yet. It dropped from his lips as I stared, and I caught myself and blushed.
“Sorry. This is very nice.”
“But?”
I shook my head and walked over to sit. He studied me, lips rolled in, then picked up a bottle of champagne from an ice bucket.
“Is this okay?”
I shrugged and nodded. “Sure. Thanks.”
Truman chuckled.
“What?”
He sat and glanced at me under his lashes. “I’m used to people asking about vintage and labels.”
“Oh. I guess I know as much about champagne as you do about MMRPGs.”
Truman smirked. “I may be a noob, but I know what role-playing games are.”
I perked up at that. “Really?”
“I read your book, Hit Start.”
I felt my eyes bug out. “You did?”
“I did.” To my amazement, his olive skin pinkened. “I didn’t understand a lot of it…okay, most of it. But I read it.”
“Wow. That’s…thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”
Truman stopped fussing with the champagne and lifted his square chin. I swallowed hard, and his eyes dipped to my throat, then up to mine.
“I wanted to.”
I absorbed that remark while Truman pushed a small button on a remote. A woman dressed in black came out of a doorway with two bowls.
I looked up as she set the soup in front of me. “Thank you.”
She paused and smiled. “You’re welcome, sir.”
“I’m sorry,” I said when she’d left.
Truman paused in shaking out his napkin and gave me a bewildered look. “For what?”
“For being a jerk.”
Truman chuckled. “I don’t think you were, but we can call it even.”
“It’s just that you’ve been getting to know me, and I didn’t even realize. And you tracked me down and agreed to a date-date, and I know that’s not what you want.”
“Adam.” Truman took my hand and squeezed. “Breathe.”
I breathed.
“Relax.”
I relaxed…a little.
“I don’t do anything I don’t want to do. Ever. So, don’t think I’ve been going out of my way for you.”
“Oh,” I said, feeling my face flush.
“I mean, it was a little out of my way.”
I laughed, and he blinked.
“You have a gorgeous smile.”
My face blazed, and I ducked my head to eat my soup. “This is…red. What is it?”
He chuckled. “Chilled beet soup.”
I raised my eyes and my heart skipped a beat at the look on his face. “You’re not eating.”
Truman lifted his spoon. “Besides,” he continued, “I was a jerk first at my party.”
I gave him that. “You were.”
“So, this is my apology, and a start-over.”
I smiled at his attempt at video-game lingo. That shouldn’t have been as cute as it was. “I accept your apology.”
He put his spoon down as the woman returned with a tray. She swapped empty dishes for full, and I gaped at the huge steak on my plate.
“Oh, shit. Are you a vegetarian or vegan? I should’ve asked.”
Startled by the growing panic on Truman’s face, I said, “No, no. I eat meat.”
“Good.”
I ate a little over half of mine with baby potatoes in a cream sauce and fresh asparagus.
“I’m stuffed.”
Truman had both elbows on the table, his glass in one hand as he watched me wipe the cloth napkin over my mouth.
“Me too.”
I took a drink of water, not liking the champagne very much. “What’s next?”
He raised his perfect black brows. “What do you mean? Dessert?”
“No. Um, is there a plan?”
His lips curled in a cute smile he tried to hide. “You want an itinerary for our date? You’re the one who deviated from the schedule with a movie.”
“No.” I was blushing again, but I ignored it. “Just curious.”
“Well, we could sit and talk on the couch, or we could go for a walk—”
“On the beach? Let’s do that.” I hadn’t been on the beach in over a year. I scooted my chair back and stood, throwing my napkin on the table. The server came out again to clean up.
“Hi. Um…”
“Sarah.”
“Sarah. Can you tell whoever cooked that it was amazing?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thank you.”
Truman, looking amused, stood as well. “Yes, thank you, Sarah. It was wonderful.”
Sarah ducked her head, and Adam saw a small flush on her neck. “Thank you, sir. I’ll be sure to tell the chef.”
Truman took my arm and led me to the couch. “I’m going to change. Wait here for me?”
His hand on my bare arm distracted me, but I managed to nod.
“I won’t be long.” He winked.
Truman James just winked at me. And he read my book. And he kissed me. It had been a sweet kiss, but quickly turned hot, and we’d left before we got in trouble. I was still reeling from that one.
I glanced over as Sarah walked by with the heavy tray and hurried to open a door for her that I hadn’t noticed before.
“Oh, thank you, sir. You don’t have to do that.”
“Adam, please. And I don’t mind.”
The bustle in the kitchen stopped as I stood there, and suddenly half a dozen sets of eyes were on me. How many people did it take to make a dinner for two? I gave a small finger wave. A man with short red hair and big earnest blue eyes rushed over to me. He was taller than me, but a lot of guys were, and s
lender. He wore a light-gray suit over a black T-shirt.
“Mr. Hendrix, do you need anything?”
Surprised, I stuttered. “I-I was just getting the door for Sarah.” I smiled around the large room. “Thank you for dinner. It was amazing.”
A few people nodded; others looked confused.
“I’m Riley. Mr. James’s PA.”
“Oh!” I held out my hand and we shook. “Nice to meet you. Adam Hendrix.”
Riley smiled, eyes bright with curiosity as he studied me. “Yes, I know.”
“Right. Um…” Anxious to get away from the curious looks, I backed away a few steps and right into a solid chest. I craned my neck and stared up at Truman.
“There you are.”
“Hi. Sorry.” Relief coursed through me and made me pause. Seeing Truman made me feel safe? Huh.
Truman shook his head with a small smile. His intense gaze flicked around the kitchen, and everyone got very busy. “You ready?”
I nodded, eager to be gone from so much scrutiny.
Truman
Adam was nervous again. It seemed to come and go in waves. He’d been fine at the movies, and okay toward the end of dinner, but when I’d found him in the kitchen with the catering staff staring at him like an alien at a zoo, tension had bunched his shoulders. The upside was, he’d been happy to see me.
I led him down the familiar beach path to the ocean, and he lit up from the inside. He smiled and took off his shoes and socks and rolled his cuffs as far as he could, so I did the same. We left them near the path, and he walked right into the water up to his shins. I smiled as he stared out over the black water and took several deep breaths. Was that a coping trick?
I didn’t go in as far, and I waited for him. Without a word he turned, and we began to walk along the waterline. A big wave came and ended up soaking his jeans at the bottom, but he just laughed. It was a little surreal, and a lot nice. Jessamin would’ve kicked up a fuss about getting her Gucci sandals wet. Adam didn’t give a shit.
“You’re quiet.”
I smiled. “Just thinking. I like that you’re enjoying the moment, and not worrying about the plan anymore.”
Adam’s gaze turned thoughtful. “It’s something I’ve had to work on in therapy.”
“What do you mean?”
“My anxiety. Sometimes I feel like it’s this whole other entity. Like a roommate I can’t get rid of. Worrying about things is a huge part of it. My therapist has been helping me live in the present and not think about the future so much.” His hand brushed mine. “Like back at dinner when I asked you what was next?”
“Right.”
“I had to stop myself and say, ‘It doesn’t matter. Go with the flow.’ ”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
I paused. I didn’t want to ruin his good mood. I grabbed his hand, and instead of the questions I wanted to ask about his brother and his past, I asked another I’d been curious to know. “What made you start writing?”
He seemed—I searched for the right words—secretly pleased with my hand in his (I could tell when he squeezed and glanced down) and my question.
“When I was a teenager, I’d play games and think, ‘I can make up a better story than this.’ Some video games are all about the graphics and the characters and the stories suck. So, I gave it a try. I have tons of shorter stories that will never see the light of day, but I took some writing classes and I got better. I was in a writing group…” His words faltered and I gave his hand a tug. He came a little closer. “They liked one of my stories and encouraged me, so I decided to try self-publishing. I wasn’t an overnight success, but I had enough fans that I decided to keep going. I get more and more readers with every book.”
“That’s inspiring.”
He smiled, and the urge to lean down and kiss him was too great to ignore. I bent, but just as I was about to capture his lips, he turned, and I grazed my stubble alongside his smoother cheek. I inhaled his scent as I tried not to laugh. I didn’t want him to think I was laughing at him; I was simply charmed by him.
“What about you? Why did you want to be an actor?”
I let him go to pick up a piece of driftwood. “Modeling doesn’t last, unless you’re David Gandy, and I’d always liked drama club in school, so I tried a few auditions and I nailed a blockbuster my first role.” I stopped, and Adam turned a knowing look my way. I had his full attention. Not because I was Truman James, but because he was interested in what I had to say. “I know what you’re thinking, and you’re right. I’m aware that my connections had everything to do with it, and that I’m beyond privileged. Some might even say spoiled. I know I act like an asshole, but”—I shrugged—“that’s just me. I’ve kind of always been that way.”
“You’re not acting like one now.”
I stared into his eyes in the moonlight. “I’m trying very hard not to be myself tonight.”
Adam’s face scrunched and clouded with anger. “What? I don’t want that, Truman.” He shifted onto his toes and grabbed me. “Don’t be someone you’re not. Not for anyone.”
“Adam, I practically outed you to the whole country without giving you warning. And I didn’t give it a second thought.”
A little line appeared on Adam’s forehead and his lips turned down. “Well, yeah, that wasn’t very nice of you.”
I gave a helpless laugh. “I didn’t mean to do it that way. I’m glad I didn’t say your last name. I was having fun talking to Trish, and I was excited to see you again, and it slipped out.”
“Why?”
“Why was I excited? Because you’re a goddamn breath of fresh air, and I was suffocating in people’s hot air.”
“Oh,” he breathed out in a soft voice. His eyes dropped to half-mast.
“Fuck, you’re sexy.” I gripped his neck and pulled him close to my mouth. “Say no.”
Adam gulped and shook his head, not in no, but in denial of my words. I lowered the last few inches and pressed my lips to his, demanding he open with my lips and tongue. I consumed him, tasting him without salt and butter. His tongue was sweet and strong as it twisted with mine. His lips were pliant and eager as we found a rhythm. He made a small noise in his throat that the sound of the waves almost snatched away. He dropped his heels and licked his lips. I went to kiss him again, but he pushed on my chest.
“Too much?” I asked.
He nodded, so I grabbed his hand and we started walking again.
A few feet later, Adam shook my arm to get my attention. “Remember our call when I was at the dog park?”
“I do.”
“I could tell when you were using your actor voice and when you were using your real voice.”
“My ‘real’ voice?” I asked with a chuckle.
“I’m serious.”
“Okay, so?”
“I don’t want you to ever use your actor voice with me.”
I considered his words. On some level, I was aware of what I was doing when I used my charm and famous smile to get my way. It was an integral part of me. I didn’t do it with everyone, like Bill or Daniel. Maybe that was shallow, but recognizing it had to count for something, right? Or maybe that made it worse because I still did it. Fuck it.
I wanted Adam to be one of those few people who knew the real me. “I’ll try.”
“That would be nice because I promise you, I won’t take it for granted.”
Chapter 9
Don’t Panic
Adam
Truman drove me home that night and gave me a toe-curling good-night kiss in his car that made me flush from head to toe. I almost suspected it was the beginning of an orgasm, but…no. It couldn’t be. Could it? From a kiss?
“Let me walk you up. Is there a garage nearby?”
It made sense since his car was worth more than I could fathom. It made me vaguely uncomfortable to ride in it, like I’d accidentally break something or leave smudges. I’d sat on my hands the whole way home. So, I under
stood his reluctance. It wasn’t a terrible neighborhood, but it had crime.
“Not for several blocks. It’s fine. Stay in the car.”
He hesitated. “Okay. Have a good night.”
“Thanks. You too.”
I got out and ran up the stairs. When I walked in the door, Chad and Pacey broke apart from a kiss.
I gave Pacey a nod. “Sorry. Don’t mind me. Going to the guest room.”
Pacey was a pretty woman, younger than Chad, younger than me even, with blonde hair and freckles on her nose. Unfortunately, that was the culmination of her good attributes. If she was intelligent or kind, I would’ve led with that. She’d talked Chad into paying for her breast augmentation surgery. She had permanent headlights I had to actively avoid, seeing as she walked around the apartment in tight white tank tops and short shorts. I saw more of her Laguna mystery than I ever wanted to. I’d been up-front about my sexuality, so I guessed she didn’t care if I saw. I wished she’d cared a little, because I did not want to see that. I was the intruder here, though, so I couldn’t say anything. I really needed to get back into my apartment.
“Where’ve you been?” Chad asked. He stood and walked to me, leaving Pacey breathing heavily on the couch. She frowned at us and stood to take their wine to the kitchen.
“Out.” I took a few steps toward my room.
“With Truman James?”
Chad’s smug voice stopped me cold.
“Truman James? The actor?” Pacey squealed and came running.
I glanced between them. “Look,” I said to Chad. “I know he came here to find me, but it’s nothing important. We just talked. Please, don’t tell anyone.”
I hurried to my room, but he followed me and closed the door behind him.
“I heard that podcast.”
I whirled around and crossed my arms. “So?”
“He took you somewhere.” Chad stepped closer, getting in my face. “Did he fuck you?”
I flushed, anger building inside me. “That’s none of your business!”
