Page 50 of A Little Bit Extra

My hand regretfully slides off her leg, but my brain is still thinking about what she said. You might leave a mark. I would love to leave a mark. Multiple marks. One on her neck, a few on her chest, her hips, her inner thighs. I can tell my little touches are getting to her. Her pulse quickens when our hands lace, and she fidgets to distract herself from thinking about us too much.

She pauses by the door, turning around to look at me. I’m still sitting on the couch, afraid that if I get up and say goodbye, I won't let her leave.

“See you on set?” she asks.

“Oh, possibly, who knows,” I say, smirking the entire time.

Cassie opens the trailer door cautiously, leaning her head outside to check for others. The coast is clear; she lets me know and says bye on her way out of the door.

I don’t see Cassie a lot for the rest of the day. Ed has me running around and re-filming scenes because he wanted to “try” something to please his drifting brain of ideas that pop up while filming. I entertain his ideas because it normally helps the day go faster. I don’t even make it to the cafeteria, I just eat food from the table on set.

Each time I catch sight of Cassie, our eyes meet, and we exchange a small smile, silently acknowledging each other from opposite sides of the room.

On my way out of the studio, Tyler catches me by the gates.

“I’m still irritated with you.” I greet him with a stare and an even tone.

“Oh, shut up.” He gently nudges my right arm, causing me to readjust my balance as we walk side by side. "I was helping you break the ice," he adds with a mischievous grin.

“You weren’t helping anything worth for shit. You put her on the spot, and Marcy is already angry about the whole situation.”

“Well, Marcy can get over herself. You’re clearly in love with her.”

“I am not.” I like her a lot and I want to be around her all the time, but I don’t love her.

“I was exaggerating. You two are fine though, right? I saw her in your trailer this morning.”

I whip my head to the right to look at him. “How?”

“I saw her leaving.” He glances at me. “After call time this morning.”

“Great.” Looks like we will need to be more careful about hanging out. I know Tyler wouldn’t say anything, but staff at the studio like to gossip during their free time. I don’t need an article written based on a story a staff member sold for a few bucks.

We stop walking when we reach the front gate. My driver is waiting outside and I know Tyler parks in the lot to the right.

“Just be careful,” Tyler warns. “You know how some people get around here. Little gossip machines.”

I laugh. “Yeah, I know. Thanks, man. Let’s grab lunch tomorrow.”

Tyler nods. “Sounds good.”

As he walks away, I walk through the gate and get into the car’s backseat.

By the time I get home, I already know Cassie will be here any minute. She texted me while she was leaving the studio to let me know she would stop home first to change into comfortable clothes before coming over. That was only a few minutes after I left, and ever since then I’ve been spiraling, thinking about what she meant by comfortable clothes. Why? I don’t know.

Ever since deciding to not filter myself around Cassie, I’m falling faster and faster for her every day just from being around her and talking to her. Tyler wasn’t far off, and I’m aching to cross a line with her. I want to destroy the barrier she has set up. I want to kiss her and hear the gentle moans she makes as my fingers graze her skin.

I need to get my shit together. These thoughts will make nothing easier when Cassie comes over. It’s one thing to want to hang out and talk to her, it’s another to want to touch her, and I can’t. Or, at least I shouldn’t.

I want her to make the first move. I need permission to touch her.

I walk into the kitchen and turn on the electric kettle to make tea for us. I have two cups steeping with some decaf chai when knocking comes from the front door.

“Come in,” I yell, taking a moment to pour a little bit of honey in each cup.

When I turn around, I drop the spoon I was holding to stir. Cassie is wearing the shortest shorts. It’s a matching pink sleep set. Simple, yet it’s filling my head with dirty, dirty thoughts about dragging the shorts down and slipping the thin shirt over her head.

Clearly my thoughts are displaying on my face because when I meet her gaze, she winks. “Are you done eye-fucking me, Emmett?”

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