“Compared to me, what?”
“Well, you’re so repressed. You don’t let yourself feel anything until you’re boiling over and out of control.”
He shook his head, letting out a harsh breath. “Explain to me how the fuck me saying sex and emotions don’t have to go together lead to this point. Because you’re losing me.”
“Look, what you said is true enough,” I said. “Sex can be just a physical activity to make you feel good. I have no problem with that.”
He scoffed. “You just condemned me for that.”
“No. I just condemned you for insisting it could be nothing more than that. I just think you should have sex with people you actually like for a change. It might be refreshing for you.”
One thick shoulder twitched, I guess it was a shrug.
“You think I should have just slept with Dean last night then—on the first date?”
“Not saying that.” One of his tennis shoes pawed at the ground, big feral beast that he was. “I just think, talking about fucking or actually fucking shouldn’t be a big deal. It’s human nature, everyone does it.”
“Except for us.”
“Yeah, except for us. I had to clean the slate you know? Just strip everything back and start from scratch, get myself right,” he said with a sigh. “Though giving up sex was nothing in comparison to cocaine. I felt like a god on that stuff, nothing could touch me. Stopping wasn’t easy.”
“No, I bet it wasn’t.”
He smiled at me, he actually double dimple smiled at me. Crap. Not only did my knees weaken but my toes curled it was so stunning, star shine and moonbeams couldn’t compare. Unicorns could take a flying fuck.
“So, Lena, darling, tell me, for curiosity’s sake. When do you put out?”
I stepped closer, going toe to toe with him. He got worried then, the dimples disappearing and his forehead creasing. So he fucking should.
“Jimmy, my love,” I said, my voice soft and sweet. “I don’t fuck a guy until he has the balls to actually man up and talk to me about his feelings.”
Laughter followed me for the better part of the jog back home.
# # #
The doorbell rang out just after two in the afternoon. Downstairs, the band and crew were making sweet music following a lunch consisting of everything we’d had in the fridge. I’d already alerted our suppliers to the need for more, pronto. With the guys working here all the time, our usual order could easily be tripled and then some. Mal alone seemed to eat his weight in food at each meal. How he then managed to jump around and pound the drums, I had no idea. I’d spent the day making myself useful. When they were recording, it made sense to just pitch in and help where I could. If that meant I made coffee and fetched sodas then so be it. Dean had come into work with them today, a happy bonus.
I jogged up the stairs, every part of me jiggling. Kindly note, however, I did not lose my breath, the jogging was starting to pay off. Yay me!
Just in case there was some random paparazzi hanging around I loosened my ponytail to hide my face. The security camera screen showed one lone statuesque woman looking ten types of awkward on the other side of the door. Big black sunglasses hid her face. Hmm, interesting.
“Hello?” I stood back, opening the door just wide enough to get a good look at her. Then my whole world stopped.
Liv. Fucking. Anders.
The film star.
That’s who Jimmy’s old friend was and she had obviously wasted no time in getting to Portland to catch up. My heart gradually restarted, slow and painful was the way. Six feet worth of trim and tanned with white blonde hair looked back at me from atop her designer eyewear. I’d be the dumpy brunette in jeans and a long sleeve T-shirt then. Lovely, please just ignore my pale and pasty skin. She wore cute strappy sandals despite the cold wet weather and even her pedicure was immaculate. For the sake of my pride, couldn’t the woman at least have a chipped nail or something? Surely, it wasn’t too much to ask for.
My own fault really, I guess that’s what you got for falling for a rock ’n’ roll Adonis. His ex-girlfriends or fuck buddies or whatever Liv was, were bound to be flawless. Why, the care he took with his hair was evidence enough. As if he’d stick a body bit into anything less than the best.
“Hi,” I said, in my smallest voice.
“Lena?” With a hand she lowered her glasses. “You are Lena aren’t you? Jimmy told me about you, said you’d be here.”
I blinked.
She held out her hand. “Hi.”
My hand shook long before she started shaking it. Luckily, she seemed to write it off as my being starstruck. Let the lady think what she wanted. “Come in, please.”
“Thanks.” Her smile wavered a little at my odd behavior. Screw her, I was doing the best I could under the circumstances. Visions of Jimmy and Liv together filled my mind. Him with his dark hair and her with her sunny Californian good looks, such a dramatic contrast they’d make, the camera would just eat them up.
And I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t go down those stairs and see the expression on his face when he saw her. It would kill me. He smiled for me so rarely, even a flash of dimple made my day. If Liv Anders got an out-and-out grin I’d melt into a puddle of misery right there and then.
So instead, I kind of hooked my thumb in the general direction of the basement. “They’re down there. Working. They, um … yeah. You should go down.”
“All right.” Her smile turned plastic, fixed in place. Guess her acting skills weren’t so great after all. “Nice to meet you.”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll see you later.”
I had nothing.
With dainty steps, she descended. I wanted to hate her, it would have made life easier, but Liv actually seemed half decent, friendly even. If only she’d been a rampaging bitch. My intense dislike would have been so much more straightforward and reasonable.
“Hey.” Dean wandered out of the kitchen. He’d turned up that morning with Taylor and been busy in the studio all day so we’d barely gotten a hello in. “I was thinking, maybe we could do something tonight?”
“Sounds good.” I gave him the best smile I had in me. Nice, normal Dean. The sight of him failed to soothe my heart however on account of it being the most clueless organ in existence. I should demand a transplant. “I’d like that.”
“Great. Been trying to get a moment alone with you all day.”
“Have you?”
“Yeah, but it’s been busy down there.” He moved closer. “I like your hair up like that.”
“Thank you.” Gratitude leached from my pores at his kind words, it was pathetic really. His grip slipped down my arm, fingers sliding over mine until we were holding hands. My muscles unwound, relaxed. I wasn’t alone. My life wasn’t over because Liv Anders had arrived, I would go on.
This was good.
For such a small intimacy handholding packed a punch. Sex was great, but sex wasn’t everything and when it came to Dean, I just wasn’t ready yet. Handholding worked. And it led to more kissing, a little necking maybe, some touching, followed eventually by a bit of rubbing in the right places. The steps leading up to sex should be enjoyed at a leisurely pace, the foreplay of dating and getting to know someone could only be done once so it should be done right.
And Dean was nice.
Jimmy could think what he liked about the word. Nice was nice. It had its place in the warm and fuzzy ways of beginning to feel for someone, and I wanted to feel for Dean. Feeling for him was pleasant, painless, and plausible. Three things I’d begun to appreciate more and more. The days of me throwing my heart and soul at Jimmy Ferris’s feet were done.
A sliver of guilt existed over dating Dean when I had feelings for Jimmy. But if I didn’t want those feelings, if I was willing to work at getting past them …
“What are you thinking about?” he asked.
“Work junk.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. “I should head back down.”