Backdraft…

This shit was nuts.

Before I knew what was happening, the girls were talking a mile a minute about timelines, and inside ten minutes there was a dude knocking on the hotel room door to take my measurements. By the time he was done, I felt vaguely violated. He’d gotten all up in my junk, supposedly to measure my inseam. I’d been so insecure it’d left Lil and Ronnie howling with laughter and nearly in tears.

If Pasquale could only see me now. I’d thought.

Then it was a delivery of some high-end retail bags and a black, nondescript garment bag. Lil asked a few questions and Veronica told her not to worry, that hair and makeup would be there bright and early, and somehow, that included me.

Next thing was dinner, because the cheesesteaks had long since worn off. That’d been pretty okay, just me, Lil, and Ronnie in the hotel restaurant and bar. They comped it, of course, not that it swayed Lil much. She still had that calculating look and I almost genuinely feared for this hotel. She’d feed their reputation like she fed unwanted pages of one of her manuscripts: through a shredder. I’d read some of her books, I knew she had the writing chops to do it.

Out of everything that’d happened that day, it was finally time for what I’d found myself anticipating the most. I was chilling on one side of the bed in a pair of boxers and one of my favorite, but damn-near worn-out, tees channel surfing, waiting for Lil to get out of the bathroom and come to bed.

She’d taken a long shower after insisting that I go first and just when I thought she’d be out, the hairdryer started up. I smiled to myself and had to wonder if she was putting off the inevitable. Wasn’t she the one to say that ‘friends slept next to each other all the time’? That it wasn’t a big deal?

The hair dryer shut off and the bathroom door opened. She stepped out and I tried to get my admiring sweep in before she looked up and caught me. If I didn’t think it’d make her even more nervous, I would have given a low whistle.

She was gorgeous. Her blonde hair foamed around her face, freshly dried. She wore this tiny satin and lace sleep set, black edged in off-white lace, a little cami and pair of short-shorts that put her legs on display. She was a short woman, and I actually liked that about her. There was something about being taller that made me feel all manly or some shit. Sexist as hell, but also true. That being said, she didn’t have a pair of legs that most dudes would go for but I liked that about her too. She had thighs I could grab onto and haul her across the bed by, but she wasn’t fat, no way. She was muscular from all that swimming she did. Fit and toned, more athlete than model.

Down, down, you need to go down! I thought at my cock, then frantically tried to come up with something that would kill any boner. Thankfully, in my line of work, I had plenty of horror shows to use for backup in situations like this. I also didn’t have to tap a single one of them, thankfully. All I had to do was think about Torrid and I was good, boner sufficiently laid to rest. Rest in peace, buddy. I thought at it.

“You okay?” she asked nervously, rubbing at a spot on the top of her arm near her elbow with the thumb of her opposite hand.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m good. What you got going on, though?” I gestured to the arm and she sort of laughed and came around the bed.

“Tendon gets a little angry from so much typing. My back, arms, wrists, and hands can sometimes be a real mess. I do massages regularly but I don’t always stretch like I should. Hazard of the job, I’m sure you know how that goes.”

“Sure do,” I said softly, patting the empty side of the bed. She climbed up and I pushed myself into a sitting position holding out my hands for her arm. She reluctantly handed it over. I put my thumb over the spot she’d been working on and watched her face carefully as I applied pressure. She winced and I backed off just a little and started working it in small circles. The wincing came back and settled into a little grimace, which is right where I wanted it.

No discomfort meant you weren’t getting the job done when it came to these types of injuries, but too much discomfort meant you were probably doing more harm than good. The goal was to make her feel better, feel good, not worse. I wanted to fix it, not hurt her more. I ached to do more, though. I ached to make us both feel good, but that’s not what we’d agreed to.

Just friends…

“Thanks,” she murmured, and took her arm back gently.

“Any time.”

“Tired?” she asked.

“Not too bad, figured I’d watch a little bad hotel TV.” She looked at Sports Center playing out and made a face. I chuckled.

I eased back down so I could lounge some more and she got up and slipped between the sheets. She laid on her side and tucked her hands under her cheek. I switched off the TV, struck by how tired and somber she seemed all of a sudden and shrank down the bed some, turning on my side with a pillow hugged to my chest so I could face her.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

She gave me a half smile and said, “Don’t get me wrong, I love these things, seeing my books come to life on the big screen is always amazing...” She hesitated.

“But?” I gently pried.

“But the politics and the media, all of the attention and flashing lights… what happened with the room and how you’re sometimes treated… it can be exhausting.”

“Spoken like a true introvert,” I said with a smile and she smiled too, pushing down a laugh. I sighed and said, “Let’s get some sleep.”

“You don’t want to watch TV?” she asked.

“Changed my mind,” I said when what I was thinking was Really, I’d rather watch you. I got up and switched out lights, returning to the bed and sliding under the blankets with her. She huddled on her side on her side of the bed and I asked, “You cold?”

“A little, but you’re warm,” she inched closer, and I smiled and pulled her over. She turned over and I spooned her, a little sad I couldn’t see her face, thinking every boner-killing thought I could scrounge up, and settling her curves into the protective cover of my larger frame. She fit perfectly.

“Better?”

“Better,” she said, and her voice was tentative and shy.

We talked softly in the close dark and it was nice, learning more, sharing intimate thoughts. Some hopes, some dreams. We settled into a natural silence, but I lay awake what seemed like a long time after she’d fallen asleep. I closed my eyes and listened to her deep and even breathing and took a liberty for myself. Pressing my lips in a single chaste kiss against the back of her silky-smooth, lightly-scented shoulder. She’d used a lotion on her skin; something exotic and fruity with hints of spicy vanilla.

I settled in and let myself enjoy her closeness and wished like hell it could be something more than what it was currently, but I was too damn scared to push it further. I’d rather have this ‘just friends’ over ‘nothing at all’.

Life with her in it was just too good compared to what it’d been before.

The next day was a total fucking whirlwind of activity for Lil, but for me, not so much. I couldn’t believe the amount of shit they put her through for the red carpet that night. She was waxed, buffed, and polished to within an inch of her life and none of it looked pleasant to accomplish. Meanwhile, I sat in the corner and listened, sometimes joining in on the conversation, while everything went on around us.

They’d turned one of the hotel’s conference rooms into an impromptu salon, spa, and barber shop and it didn’t surprise me when the stylist said, “Your turn, honey.”

I found myself thinking that the guy could give Pasquale a run for his money as I sat in his chair. A shave with a hot towel, and a haircut that didn’t seem necessary but looked sharp went down; when I was done, Lil had been moved and was nowhere to be seen.

“Don’t worry, she’ll meet you in the lobby in a bit. Let’s get you dressed.”

“Seriously?”

“What?”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve got it, not something I need help with.”

He leaned back and gave me that hyper-sober look I was used to getting from Pasquale anytime we told him something he didn’t want to hear.

“You know I’ve seen it all before, right?” he asked. “No need to hide what you might be compensating for with all of the rest of this.”

I laughed and just kind of stood there trying to gauge if he was for real. He waved his hand dramatically and stopped in the same exact pose he’d started in. It was a little bit of a standoff.

“Well? What are you standing there for?” he waved his hand at me dramatically again and I sighed. The “Shoo!” put it over the line, though. Challenge accepted.

I hauled my shirt over my head and demanded, “Where’s this damn monkey suit?”

The stylist walked over to a rack and selected a garment bag off of it and unzipped it. When he turned around, his overly-penciled eyebrows shot up as he swept me from head to toe, lingering on my Jockey boxer-briefs a little longer than was polite.

“I stand corrected, honey,” he said, and held out the hanger. I went over and found the pants first.

I pulled them on and realized they hadn’t been hemmed. No shit, that guy tailored the hem of those pants and the sleeves on that jacket right then and there. I’d never had a tux fit so damn good in my life. Usually, it was tight in the shoulders and loose in the torso, but I could just get away with it without looking like I was trying to wear my dad’s suit.

This was nice: black pants, black shirt, black jacket, with a muted emerald-green necktie and a matching handkerchief for the pocket. He messed with my hair again and nodded at the final result in the mirror.

“Time to wake-up to make-up, honey.”

“No way, I didn’t sign on for that,” I said, laughing, and Martine, pronounced ‘Mar-teen’, gave me another flat look.

“You don’t and you are going to look like hell on camera. I’m not talking any guyliner or anything like that, baby. I’m talking just the basics. That, and you’re here, which means you did sign up for it.”

“Shit,” I muttered. Lil was gonna owe me. Like ‘watching football at the firehouse’ owe me. I was going to have to do something hyper-masculine to balance this shit out, but for her I really would do anything at this point, and so, being the good sport that I was, I gritted my teeth and gave a nod.

He put a drape on me and shoved tissue paper into my collar all the way around and got to work. That shit had to be the weirdest feeling, but I had to hand it to him, he was right. He’d snapped a before-and-after pic with his cellphone to prove it and in the first pic I looked like death warmed over; in the second I was alive, so I ate it.

“Thanks, bud, I appreciate your patience with me.”

He rolled his eyes and shooed me out of his chair, saying, “You’re going to be late; you’d better go.”

“I have no idea where the hell I’m supposed to be going.”

“Lobby,” he sang out, irritated, and I shot him a short salute.

I went down to the lobby in these expensive, shiny, Italian shoes that probably cost more than my brownstone, and Veronica waved me over.

“Okay, so Lilli will be down soon, you’ll exit the lobby to the car waiting at the curb. Expect paparazzi, because Nathalie is here, and so is Kit.”

“Seriously?”

Veronica laughed and jerked her head, my eyes wandered over and sure enough, there were the lead actress and actor who’d played Quinn and Jack, Lil’s characters.

“They’re a lot different in person,” I said, surprisingly underwhelmed, and Veronica smiled a secretive smile.

“They usually are, people tend to forget they’re human beings, and when they’re humble, like those two, you can totally miss being in the same room with them.”

“I’ll tell you what I can’t miss,” I said, eyes glued to the top of the stairs where they’d gotten stuck on Lil.

“Ah,” Veronica said, pleased. “There she is.”

She was beautiful, radiant in this form-fitting, simple yet elegant satin gown with just the right amount of shimmer to the cloth. It was a deep, emerald green, the perfect match to my tie and handkerchief, and I somehow didn’t think that was any kind of coincidence. At the same time, I didn’t care.

In this moment, I burned for her; a low, blue flame that rose higher and higher with every step she took down those stairs.

Her satin pumps were the perfect match to the gown. It was perfect for her, a halter-style with a plunging neckline that flared at her chest, dipped with the perfect amount of curve to follow the natural flow of her hourglass figure before flaring outward again to flow down her hips and near straight to the ground. It gave a last little flare at the floor into the smallest train and she was gorgeous in it. Her throat was adorned with a gold necklace in the perfect ‘Y’ shape; dangling from the end was a teardrop emerald. Her earrings matched, simple gold, delicate chains with smaller teardrop emeralds, dangling from her ears. Her golden wheat-blonde hair was swept into one of those classy twists where it was all tucked into itself, a long gold comb set with more emeralds pinning it at the seam, winking in the overhead lights as she turned her head to ask something of the man escorting her down the stairs.

I squashed the flare of jealousy pretty damn quick. He looked old enough to be her dad, but come to think of it, she and I had never talked about him – her dad, I mean. There was still so much about her that I didn’t know, and I wanted to know everything.

She caught sight of me and her perfectly-glossed, shell-pink lips parted in the most beautiful smile; I think my heart cracked from the pressure of it swelling so big. She reached the bottom of the stairs and I smiled down at her as she reached me.

“You’re so beautiful it hurts,” I told her honestly, and I heard her suck in a breath, but then Veronica was doing her thing and we were supposed to play follow-the-leader and smile for the cameras.

“Here we go,” Lil said lightly, and I could hear the static electricity of her anxiety crackle across the surface of her words. I tucked her hand into the crook of my arm all gentlemanly and tried for the life of me to figure out how to be her shield, how to make this easier for her in any way possible.

Like I said, I was pretty much smitten and ready to do anything for her, whether she asked it of me or not.