Stupid, but accurate as hell.
A part of me wondered if I was doing this as some sort of penance. God knew I was attracted to her, but this was completely out of character for me. I didn’t just invite myself into people’s lives.
I’d never been this impulsive.
And it was totally possible that I was having a midlife crisis since all of my friends were married and popping out kids, but I’d never looked forward to a week more than I was right now.
So, what did that say about fame and fortune? When you’re counting the minutes until you can treat someone the way they deserve to be treated? When you can’t stop thinking about all the ways you’re going to make her orgasm using nothing but your hands, tongue, and ingenuity.
I strummed a few chords and stared down at my notebook.
There was also another reason.
The fact that after talking to her, something broke inside me, and suddenly I wanted to write. I felt inspired to write something other than the or huh.
And all it had taken was seeing her smile.
Staring obsessively at her hair.
And getting her phone number.
I wasn’t lying when I’d said she inspired me.
And now, I was wondering how the hell I’d stay inspired if I let her go.
See? Anxiety is such a bitch!
The hour passed quickly as I got lost in the music, the way it filled me, made me whole, only for that feeling to leave with the very last note.
Like always, the feeling of goodness left, and the hollowness returned, along with the feeling of nails inside my chest walls scraping to get free.
I liked to call them my demons, not that I believed I was possessed. Hell, I wasn’t into any weird shit, and I still had my Bible my grandma gave me for my fifth birthday. Nah, it wasn’t like that. It was just all the shit I’d never dealt with slowly coming to a head.
The mistakes I’d made. Lies I’d told. Life I’d lived, all in an effort to fix what couldn’t just be fixed with happy songs of love and laughter or fame, money.
With a sigh, I grabbed my overnight bag and made sure to lock the door to the guesthouse as I walked around the pool and toward the front door. As much as I wanted to go through the slider to the master, I knew that she’d probably murder me on site. So, into the front entrance, I went.
I wasn’t surprised to see Amelia on the couch watching Netflix.
“To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before.” I put a hand on my chest. “My favorite. Noah Centineo’s a god among men, am I right?”
She turned around and gave me a bright smile. She looked happier today. “I take it my mom hasn’t murdered you in the back yard yet.”
“You know, it’s almost as if I’m not famous when I talk to you. Not sure I like it.” I plopped down onto the chair and gave her a huge grin. “So, is this the part where I tell you I’m going to clean my gun if any boys show up while we’re gone tonight?”
Yes, I’m that good. I even got Amelia’s blessing after grabbing her number from Braden.
All parties were in on this.
Damn, I should get an award.
Or at least sex.
Ah, did it always come back to sex?
Of course it did because I was so damn celibate that I was actually worried my dick might fall off from lack of use.
Bronte came around the corner wearing her hair loose around her shoulders, diamond studs in her ears, lip gloss, and some high-waisted skinny jeans with a white blouse tucked in.
Then again, I never promised I was a saint.
Plus, hadn’t giving up drugs been enough?
Amelia cleared her throat.
I jerked my head away. “What? I was just appreciating your mother’s beauty.”
“Uh-huh.” She narrowed her eyes. “Maybe I should be the one cleaning guns.”
I scoffed and put a hand over my heart. “I’m genuinely wounded.”
“You’re genuinely full of it.”
“Also true.” I nodded my head. “I’m serious though, no guys. Guys are bad — all guys. They lie, they cheat, they steal—”
“Mom can hear you.”
“I’m a man, though, so I don’t count. I already sowed those oats, made all the mistakes and asked God for forgiveness. He granted it, by the way, just in case you were wondering.”
“Did He, though?” Amelia tapped her chin with her iPhone, and I grinned at the new case, yesterday was a bunny, but not today. Today it was Adrenaline, and there my face stared back at me, and for some reason, that made me feel uncomfortable.
A first.
I cleared my throat. “Did you, uh, draw a heart around Will’s face?”
Her face lit up red. “Jealous?”
“Depends. Is there an X on mine?” I laughed.
She rolled her eyes. “If you don’t treat her right, then I’ll do more than that.”
“Amelia!” Bronte scolded in that perfect mom tone that had even me jerking back and holding up my hands as if I was being arrested.
Swear, my heart even picked up speed a bit while my mouth went dry, and then I noticed the fear in Bronte’s eyes.
Was she scared of me?
Of what we could have?
Of the one-week deal to help her experience what she should have all those years ago?
“Mommmmmmm.” Amelia drew out the word. “We’re verbally sparring. He’s fine. Look at him,” She pointed at me with a helpless expression. “He’s Drew Amhurst. He’s made of solid steel.”
“Are we talking about my six-pack? Just curious,” I voiced. “Because if we are, things just got weird.”
“No.” Amelia pulled a pink scrunchie from her wrist and put her hair into a ponytail. “I mean like, you’re a celebrity. You’re used to everyone talking about you, making fun of you, worshipping you. You’d
