Chapter 3
Lila
As I drove to Trace’s place later that night, every nerve in my being felt alive. Because this was the Trace Perry. The hot one. The football player that every girl dreamed about. And now, he’d invited me to a party with his friends.
In fact, Trace was someone that I had a secret crush on for a while in my freshman year. Too bad, he never even blinked when looking in my direction. Back then, I was mousy Lila, the one who was overweight but not in a good way. So I don’t blame him. Back then, I wouldn’t have looked at me.
I pulled up to the house. Since Trace actually lived in Los Angeles, he was staying with his assistant’s brother during the shoot. That made me a little nervous because I wasn’t sure who Trace had invited over.
But okay, this was it. You go girl, the voice in my head spoke. You’re going to be fine.
I’d dressed casually, wearing tight jeans that really showed off my butt and a nice blouse that revealed all of my upper back. Sexy but not over the top.
I knocked on the door, and Trace opened it. He looked like he’d been careful in his clothing choices too. The man was wearing a tight black shirt that showed off his impressive arms and casual jeans that draped over strong legs.
Oh god, yes. This man was tall and handsome, even better than when we were in high school. Deep black hair swept over one eye, with a discerning blue gaze to top it all off. During the session, he was always professional and polite, but with every look he gave me, I shivered. There was something about the man in his commanding gaze that made me weak in the knees.
“Hey,” I said shyly.
“Hey, yourself,” he growled.
Suddenly, Emerson came rushing out the door, throwing his coat on.
“Hey, Lila!” Emerson called. “I really wish I could stay and drink, but I’ve got something I need to take care of.”
“Oh okay,” I murmured, perplexed.
“Lila, good to see you again,” Emerson said. “Trace? You remember that advice I gave you.”
Trace rumbled with laughter.
“Yeah, got it. You have a good time too.”
And with that, Emerson disappeared into his car, quickly starting it and driving off.
“Is he okay?” I asked tentatively.
“Yeah, don’t even think about him,” Trace reassured.
“What advice did he give you?” I asked as we walked into the foyer.
“Him?” Trace grunted. “Emerson tries to give me advice on everything, but honestly, sometimes he doesn’t know when to shut up.”
I laughed good-naturedly then.
“Don’t worry, I think that’s all of us sometimes.”
Trace nodded, a smile quirking the edge of his lips before growing serious again.
“In all seriousness though, he gives really good advice,” the photographer said.
We stood there awkwardly for a few seconds, just looking at one another. My body temp went up about a hundred degrees.
“So, who’s coming over?” I asked, my voice a little breathy.
“Well, that’s where it really sucks,” he drawled. “Trace’s brother isn’t even here. I invited over my pals Jesse and Brandon, but neither of them could make it over.”
“Brandon Yates?” I asked. “The tight end? Are you guys still friends?”
“Sure are.” He laughed. “He’s engaged now, so I don’t see him all that much. But he’s a good dude. He can’t make it unfortunately.”
“Okay,” I said slowly. “So your friends can’t make it ….”
Trace nodded, blue eyes gleaming.
“I don’t wanna, like, creep you out or anything,” he drawled. “But I’d still be down to hang with you if you are. Just saying.”
My smile was shy but immediate.
“Sure, why not?” was my reply. “We’ll have fun.”
Slowly, we walked further into the house. It was a spacious home with lots of furnishings and pictures strewn about. I pretended to look around, complimenting the interior décor, but my mind was only on Trace.
Because back in high school, I would have loved to date Trace Perry. But back then, I hadn’t found myself yet. I was too shy, was afraid guys wouldn’t like me, and to top it off, I was a virgin for all four years. Meanwhile, he was always kind of a player, going from girl to girl, sowing wild oats like crazy. It would never have worked out with us back then.
But this time, it was all different, and I was ready to see what would come of it.
“Your photos all came out beautifully,” Trace called from the kitchen as he got out two wine glasses.
“That’s good to hear,” was my murmur. “I still can’t believe you’re this big, fancy photographer now. Have you shot any celebrities?”
He grinned, serving two generous pours of red wine. “A few. I don’t like to brag.”
“You can brag a little, I’m giving you permission,” I teased.
“Ah, maybe I’ll tell you who a little later.”
He handed me my glass, and we clinked, our eye contact electric.
“I mostly shoot other models,” he finally said. “Fashion is what pays the bills well.”
I nodded. That made sense. You can’t make a living by art alone, there’s definitely a commercial aspect to this business.
“So are you happy to be here from LA? Where do you live in LA actually?”
He nodded.
“Yeah, it’s good to be back and see all my old buddies. I have a house in Culver City,” he told me. “It’s pretty nice. It’s only about three miles away from the beach. It’s a good location.”
I laughed again.
“You know, back in high school, I was so sure that you were going to go off and become a football star,” was my confession as I sipped on my wine.
“Yeah, I think everyone was,” he said wryly. “Especially my parents. They had it all figured out. High school football, college football, and then the N.F.L. And yet, I didn’t play at all after high school. Sometimes, I still wonder what would’ve happened if I’d actually gone that route.”
My nod was quick.
“So photography turned out to be your passion?”
“It did,” he said. But then he turned the tables on me. “I have to say, I would never have pegged you to become a model when I knew you in school. No offense.”
“None taken,” was my sincere reply. “No one told me to consider modeling until college. That’s when I started being completely me.”
There was a pregnant silence.
“Do you have a boyfriend?” he asked finally, blue eyes intense.
“I do not,” I assured. “Do you have a girlfriend at your beach house, Mr. Rich Man?” was my arch retort.
“I don’t have a girlfriend or a beach house,” he laughed. “And I wouldn’t consider myself rich. I’d accept ‘wealthy.’ Rich just makes me sound like an asshole.”
“You would’ve been rich if you ended up playing for the Dolphins,” I joked with a wink.
“Yeah, my parents were extremely pissed that I didn’t go into football,” he said reflectively. “I think they were building me up to be a Dolphins quarterback. But I was burned out, doing this sport ever since I was six. I just couldn’t lie to myself anymore. It wasn’t me.”
“Aww, I think I saw your mom in the stands a couple times. She looked sweet.”
Trace nodded ruefully.
“I love my parents, but we don’t exactly get along all that well,” he finished. “Sorry, Lila. I don’t think I ever met your parents,” he apologized.
“You probably wouldn’t have,” I said. “My parents got divorced when I was in middle school, and neither of them were around much. I always went home on the bus. Pretty much a latchkey kid.”
We both eventually finished up our glasses, and Trace poured us a second serving. I could feel my face flushing, everything getting warmer by the minute.
“Lila, you know you’re beautiful right?” he rasped, taking another sip while holding my gaze over the rim of the wine glass.
“I do,” was my giggled reply. “But so are you. I have to admit, I really used to want to know what it would be like to kiss you. I daydreamed in class about it all the time.”
Trace leaned forwards, that massive form suddenly in my personal space.
“You could find out that answer right now, if you’d like,” he suggested.
And suddenly, we were doing it. He leaned into me and captured my lips with his own. For the first few moments, I was just processing what was happening. Oh my god! I was making out with the Trace Perry, football player extraordinaire. But then the kiss took over and I fell head over heels into pure sensuality.
Because this man was magnificent. I touched him all over that massive frame, impressed with how his muscles bulged, they were so solid. And I loved the way that he was touching my back and running his hands down my jeans, feeling around my backside.
Once I could pry myself away from his lips, I knew what I needed next.
“Where’s your bedroom?” was my pant.
He grinned knowingly before pulling me up the stairs and into a darkened space. Oh god, yes. He sat down immediately on a giant bed, pulling me down with him, but I resisted.
“I want to do a sexy striptease for you,” was my purr.
Silence for a moment, before Trace growled.
“Well, I’m not going to say no to that.”
And smiling to myself, I turned around, dropping low to the floor while easing my pants slowly down my legs. My lacey black thong came into view, eliciting a low growl of approval. I swayed around, dancing to no beat in particular, just the tune in my head. With my exposed back to him, I tossed away my shirt, revealing big, lush boobies. Because there was no bra.
Slowly, I turned around, showing him my naked breasts and the slight pooch to my stomach. He looked like he was hypnotized and barely able to breathe, a massive tent at his crotch.
“What are you thinking, Trace?” I cooed. “Like what you see?”