I glance through the window as the taxi sputters to a stop. There’s a small line of women going in through the door. You have got to be kidding me. Climbing out of the car, I stare up at the swirly silver letters that look more like a club logo than a sex toy shop. The G-Spot. I roll my eyes at the name.

“Your mom would be so proud. Your first cock signing at a place called The G-Spot.”

“Look,” Tyler says as he shuts the door to the cab. “What are you gonna do? Be pissed at me the entire week? I said I was sorry. I shouldn’t have called you a desperate whore.” Laughing, he hops onto the curb. “I mean, why the hell would you listen to me? Don’t you remember the shit I used to say to you when we were kids.”

I glare at him. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“Hmm. Maybe the time I told you that Burger Hut put ponies in their meat, and you threw up? Or what about the time I told you putting a piss-soaked washcloth on your face would clear up your acne?”

God, he’s always been an asshole.

The women in line stare and drool when we walk past them. The one in the front has the replica of Tyler’s dick clutched in her hand. I seriously cannot believe this is real life right now.

Tyler holds the door to the shop open. As soon as I’m inside, I see a banner with a picture of a flesh colored dildo—his very own personal dildo, the name ‘Johnny Depth’ in bright red letters to the side of it.

“Wow,” I say, reading over the description of his dildo. “Suction cup for pleasure during bath time, huh?”

“Yep.”

“Oh,” there’s a loud gasp, “My gawd!” A woman darts out from behind some of the shelving. She’s wearing a tight, floral dress and she’s either had a spray tan gone wrong or she’s laid in the tanning bed too much. She looks like Magda from Something About Mary. “Johnny Depth!” She scampers up to him, grabs his chin, pulls him down face level, and kisses both his cheeks. “My, my you are taller than I thought.” Taking a step back, she drags her eyes over him, stopping on his crotch. “I’m such a fan of your work. Such a fan. Probably your number one fan. Actually, I used little Johnny—that’s what I call your cock cast—last night.” She winks as she waggles her eyebrows. “Grrrr.”

“Oh, well…uh,” Tyler says, slowly taking several steps back. “Glad it’s a good product.”

“Very good product. And I tell you what,” she bites down on her lip, “if I got ahold of the real thing, it would need a cock cast.”

Tyler looks mortified. He’s still backing away from her, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t fully enjoying this. “Cock cast?” I ask.

“Yep. I’d ride his cock so hard, it would need a cast by the time I’m done with it.”

“Oh,” I stifle a laugh, “Wow.”

There’s a loud bang when Tyler bumps into the table behind him, knocking over a tower of penis molds.

“Oh, look at me just fawning over you,” she says. “I’m Sue.” She holds her hand out for me to shake. “I think everything he needs is at the table. Pen. Pictures. Water. Dildos.”

Nodding, I glance at the table and find Tyler attempting to rebuild the wall of cock. “Thanks,” I say.

“Well, I’ll be back in a little while.” She winks. “Have fun, sugar.”

Dragging the metal chair out, I glance at him. “Sugar.” I laugh. “You could make the woman’s life if you let her try the real thing out.”

“Fuck off. That’s sick.”

“Women get wiser with age; she could probably rock your world.”

“I’ll pass, thanks.”

He sits down, pulls the chair to the table and the first middle-aged woman approaches, dildo in hand.

“You are my favorite,” she says, smiling. “That tongue of yours. Mmph.” She arches her brows.

“Thanks,” Tyler says.

“I wanted you to sign this one. Don’t worry, I’ll retire this one and use the backup I’ve got at home from now on.”

I fight a laugh. I fight it hard. She stares at him like an absolute creeper while he signs the fleshy silicone. She thinks she can fuck him. I can see it in her eyes. After all, he is a porn star…or maybe it’s just that she has watched him fuck so many times, she’s seen him in the most intimate situations a person can have, maybe she feels like she knows him.

Tyler hands the dildo back to her, stands up for a picture—during which, the woman grabs his ass—and then she walks off.

As soon as he sits back down, I lean over to him. “You know,” I whisper as the next person walks toward the table. “You just held something that woman has had inside her quivering vagina.”

He swallows and exhales. “Did you have to say quivering?”

“Yep. Quivering wet folds.”

He gags a little, then smiles as the next woman hands him her replica of little Johnny.

This experience is absolutely priceless. For the next three hours, I watch him sign dildo after dildo, tit after tit. I delight when one of the women gropes him, and that uncomfortable look graces his handsome face. During lunch, I filled a spray bottle up with water and told him I’d squirt the ladies that got out of hand, but as far as I’m concerned, until one of them yanks his jeans down and tries to rape him—it’s not out of hand.

Everything is absolutely incredible until a guy trots up to the table.

“Oh, this is gonna be amazing,” I whisper when the guy hands the cock cast to Tyler.

“Dude,” he says. “Can you sign this for my girlfriend?”

Well, this isn’t near as fun.

Tyler scrawls his name over the cock then hands it back to the guy.

“Man, tell me, what is it like to fuck Vee-Gina? I mean, damn, she is hot. And that pussy….” he hisses in a breath. “Fucking perfect. That scene out of Secret Pussy, dude. You know, the one where you’re fucking the shit out of her then flip her over and ram it in her ass. Man, you’re my hero. I would pay money to stick my cock in an ass like that. Do you ever want to have sex outside of that shit because those girls are as perfect as they get…”

The rant of this perv fades into the background. I hate this. Before, all the shit was funny. This—this is not entertaining. All I can see is Tyler balls deep in some girl, and as much as I try to not let it get to me, I can’t help it.

The guy is going on and on, and the line is backing up.

“Excuse me,” I say. “But there are other people in line.”

“Oh,” he says. “Yeah, sorry. Thanks, man.” He wobbles the dildo in the air and trots off.

Tyler glances at me and smirks before taking the box from the next person in line and signing it.

Just as the woman goes into a fit about how much she loves him, my phone dings with a text.

Know you’re busy. But you got the part. Call me when you can. Congrats, Jemma. You deserve this.

My heart flutters in my chest and I have to go back over the text to make sure I didn’t misread it.

Another text comes in.

You start in a week. Already talked to Hud and already have some people looking for an apartment for you.

I’m in disbelief. A part—a lead role in a Stefan Goldberg TV series. My pulse is going haywire, my cheeks burn from how wide I’m grinning. No more dildos. No more watching people have sex. No more Tyler.

No more Tyler.

My smile fades a little as I glance over at him. As much as this situation has sucked, as much as we’ve fought—I’d be lying if I said even when I hated it, I hadn’t enjoyed it. It’s hard to explain, but this is how it has always been with us. From the outside, everyone thinks we hate each other, but deep down inside all that bickering comes from a place of love, and as long as we aren’t ignoring each other, we both know there’s still something there. And even though I know this will never go anywhere, well, I still like knowing it’s there.