One year later
Jemma’s finished her second session of Disaster. I’m almost finished with my undergrad degree and studying for my LSAT. We’ve come home to visit our parents over Thanksgiving, and, well, right now, I’m sitting in a tree. In our tree. I’ve been sitting in this damn tree for twenty minutes. I nearly broke my neck the first time I tried to climb up here and right now I’m staring at a bleeding gash I got from my second attempt. I swear to God, this tree was much easier to climb as a kid. She said they were prepping the turkey so I thought ten minutes max. What the fuck are they doing to it? Jesus Christ! I can’t feel my hands and my lips are starting to go numb. There’s a loud flapping noise followed by a high-pitched screech which nearly makes me lose my footing. A fucking Barn Owl has perched next to me, its huge yellow eyes glaring at me. He circles his head a few times, slowly inching toward me. The fucker’s brave. I shift to the right a little, and he follows me. One of the branches snaps beneath me and the owl flaps its wings, hooting before he calms the fuck back down.
The light flips on in Jemma’s room. I drag in a breath as I shimmy my way up the old limb, praying that the damn branch doesn’t break in half. This is just like it was ten years ago, I sit here admiring how gorgeous she is and feeling a little bit like a creeper for watching her when she doesn’t know I am. Reaching out, I tap on her window, and she startles. She tiptoes to the window and peers through the sheer curtains, laughing when she sees me in the tree.
“What in the hell are you doing?” she asks when she opens the window.
“Sneaking into your room.”
When I shift my weight to climb in through the window, the branch creaks again, and that fucking bird flies off just before the limb gives way. There’s a loud snap followed by a crash as I go plummeting to the ground, landing on my back with a THWAP.
“Oh, shit. Tyler!”
I can’t breathe. Pain is radiating throughout my entire body.
“Tyler, are you okay?” Jemma screams.
“Mmmph,” I manage to groan.
A few minutes later, she’s hoovering over me with wide eyes. She brushes a few stray twigs off of me before yanking me to my feet. “You could have killed yourself, you freak. What in the hell possessed you to do that?”
“I thought you said it was romantic,” I mumble, attempting to catch my breath.
“Yeah, it was when we were kids. It’s just weird when you do it as an adult, pervy on every level.”
I grab her by the waist and yank her body against mine. “That tree means a lot to me, you know?”
“Yeah, I bet seeing as how it was a passageway to you losing your virginity,” she laughs, slapping playfully at my chest.
“Not just that.” I kiss her. “You see, the first time I saw you, I knew you would be mine one day, even though you protested it for years. That tree,” I point at the trunk, “that’s how I made you fall in love with me.”
“Oh, is that so? The tree?”
“Yep.” I kiss her again. “Think about it. Our first kiss, the first time we had sex…all because I could climb up that tree and sneak into your room.”
“Those are some of my favorite memories.”
“Mine too.” She pulls away from me, but I grab onto her wrist. “Wait, titch.” I fish out the ring shoved inside my pocket, but keep it in my closed hand. “The one thing I haven’t really done is make you mine.”
“What are you talking about, we live together. I’m yours.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I slide my hand down her arm and take her hand in mine. “But the thing is, I want you to be my wife. You aren’t really mine until you take my last name, you know?” I slip the ring on her finger. “Marry me, titch?”
She smiles, fighting tears as she stares down at her hand. Pressing her lips against mine, she nods. “God, yes.” I kiss her softly, my heart slamming against my ribs because my life is finally exactly like it fucking should be. I’m with her and know I will be for the rest of my life.
“Alright, enough of this sappy shit.” I back away slightly because I’m pretty sure she may slap me for this, but fuck, I just can’t help myself. “I always knew I’d marry you, but did you ever think you would be marrying an ex porn star?”
“Fuck you, Tyler.” She smiles. “Come on, dinner’s ready.”
Jemma shows her parents the ring over dinner. Her mom swoons, but her dad, Frank just glares at me, tapping the end of his fork on the edge of the table. When her mom stands to clear the table, he throws his napkin onto the plate and scoots his chair back.
“Tyler, could I talk to you for a minute?” he asks on his way out of the kitchen.
I glance at Jemma. Her brow wrinkles as she shrugs. I swallow and follow Frank’s linebacker frame into the living room. There’s an unamused look on his face when he turns around and leans against the fireplace. “Now, I’ve always been fond of you. Always thought you were a little off in the head, but I liked you.”
Fuck. “Thanks…”
“Funny thing is,” he sighs. “I never pinned you for a pervert, so imagine my surprise when I stumble across Alice in the Wondercock.”
I swallow really, really hard, not sure whether I should make eye contact with him or not. I decide it’s best if I just stare off to the side of his face so it seems like I might be making eye contact with him or maybe just have a touch of lazy eye.
“I thought, surely this Johnny Depth fucker isn’t Tyler from next door, so I click on another video, appropriately named Charlie’s Chocolate Starfish. Now, I’m getting on up there in age, so maybe my eyesight’s on the fritz, or maybe I was distracted by all the close ups of assholes, but I’m pretty sure that was you.”
This is fucked up and awkward in every way imaginable. I’m standing here, alone, with my future father-in-law basically telling me he watched me do ass porn. Fucking shit. I’m sweating bullets right now. “Well,” I clear my throat and manage a nervous smile, lying for all I’m fucking worth. “As amazing as this Charlie’s Chocolate… what did you say it was called?”
His expression is as cold as stone. “Starfish.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Chocolate Starfish. They should have just said asshole because that’s all that was in that film.” He arches a brow. “Assholes.”
“Wow, Mr. Morgan, I’ve not heard of that one, but as amazing as it sounds, I can assure you, I’ve never been an actor.”
“Mm-hmm,” he mumbles. And here we are, staring at each other. He knows I’m lying. I know I’m lying, but I can always deny it, right? “So,” he says. “I guess The MadShatter doesn’t ring a bell either?”
I shake my head, holding back a laugh. “Nope.”
“The Lone Wanker, Sucky Hollow, The Cum Diaries, Finding Pussyland…never heard of any of those?”
Clearing my throat, I pat him on the back. “Mr. Morgan, I’m a guy, I get it. Every now and then you get an itch you need to scratch, and you may google a bit of porn, but dude, this sounds like some really sick shit you’ve gotten into. Don’t worry, I won’t tell Mrs. Morgan. We can get you help…and some new eyeglasses.”
I turn to walk off, shaking my head. “Like I would ever do porn. What kind of person does that?”