Page 35 of Forever Wild

I don’t think either of us have a plan as to where we were headed, but it seems prudent to leave before anyone notices Jameson being noticed.

“I’m sorry about that, Bryn. I’d like to say that won’t happen again, but it almost certainly will.”

“It’s fine. I understand,” I say.

“I know it can be a lot to handle. I love my fans, but it’s hard sometimes not getting to be a normal guy.” He looks at me intently. “But I want you to know that you do not have to take the pictures.”

“I know,” I say. Because I do. “I was happy to help so the dad could be in the picture too.”

“Truly, Bryn. You’re not my personal photographer. I know that. Fans will understand it too. I don’t want you to feel—”

“Jameson,” I cut him off, recognizing he might continue to belabor the point if I don’t stop him. “I hear you. I understand. I did not feel like you or anyone else expected me to take the picture. I was happy to help out so that kid and his dad could share in the memory.”

We walk a bit more before I say, “Actually, if you saw the pictures I took, you would feel much more comfortable about it all. I’ve never really seemed to understand the appropriate angles to hold a phone to make anyone look their best. Fingers crossed they don’t submit that one to the press. You undoubtedly have both eyes crossed and are in the middle of a sneeze.”

“Luckily, I haven’t sneezed once today.”

“That, my guy, is just how impressive my skills are,” I joke.

We walk around the neighborhood, burning off some of our breakfast before ordering another Uber and heading to Venice Beach. Though neither of us brought swimming suits, we walk along the shoreline, Jameo with his hat pulled low and a pair of sunglasses on like the incognito celebrity that he is. The good part about LA is that, while most people assume a person in a hat AND sunglasses on a partially sunny day is some version of a celebrity, there are so many of them around that no one really seems to care.

I know I should be in the office, working, but I just can’t seem to convince myself that spending more time on my computer is a better alternative to spending time with Jameson. I just hope Kyle isn’t there anymore. The last thing I need is him gloating on Monday about all the hours he put in this weekend, even if I’m very aware of the fact that he doesn’t accomplish anything close to what I do in any given day.

After about an hour of walking, I’m starting to feel sweaty despite the cool ocean breeze. I’m not sure how to navigate the awkwardness of not wanting to say goodbye but also wanting to find some air-conditioning. I’m about to pull the trigger and just ask if we should call it a day or find something else to do, when I see a sign for a movie theater ahead.

“Ooo! Let’s go to a movie,” I basically shout, grabbing on to the excuse to prolong our time together.

Jameson is surprisingly easy to convince, and I wonder if he loves movies as much as I do or if he is also looking for a way to keep our date going.

After an awkward conversation where we feel out each other’s movie preferences, we end up at the newest Marvel movie. Jameson heads to the booth to pay, but I insist I use my monthly movie passes. So he buys the snacks—popcorn, Milk Duds, and Cherry Coke—just like Izzy and I always get when we go to the movies together.

Two hours later, we stroll out of the theater, trash in hand, eyes blinking as they adjust to the bright light of day.

“Look, it’s one thing to want to split the cost of our dates fifty-fifty, which I do find insulting to my manhood no matter how progressive you want me to pretend to be, but to make me have to buy that trash snack combination? Who eats Milk Duds and popcorn at the same time?” Jameson teases.

I shoot him a fake glare. “If you had just tried them, you would have a leg to stand on. But no, poor Jameo couldn’t bear the thought of combining two ‘totally different snacks.’ And you really missed out. What makes the two such a beautiful combo is that the stickiness of the Milk Duds counteracts the popcorn getting stuck in your teeth and vice versa. Somehow, two things that normally stick around in your mouth for days both go in together and, voilà, perfection.” To be clear, it’s not the same sweet and savory combination I was hating on when deciding what to order earlier. The way I do movie theater popcorn with the perfect amount of butter is most certainly sweet.

I glance at him, noting how he is subtly trying to remove popcorn from his teeth with his tongue. “You are going to be stuck eating soggy popcorn as it drops out of your teeth crevices for the rest of the night.” I pause, knowing I should stop rambling about snacks—and crevices—but then can’t help myself. I continue, “And the Milk Duds today were fresh. Easy to chew. It was bliss in my mouth.”

His eyes darken at my last comment, and I mentally cringe. Did not mean to put a somewhat sexually charged statement out into the night. And honestly, is it sexually charged? I’m still a little confused by Jameson’s quick bounce from not dating to I-need-this-to-be-a-date to getting turned on by a statement.

“Hmm. Bliss in your mouth.” He stares at my lips for a moment. “That checks out. I promise next time you offer something that is bliss in your mouth, I will definitely be in.”

We both stop and stare at each other, his eyes growing wider, before I burst out laughing, and he quickly follows suit. He gasps out, “Oh fuck. I went for it with the first innuendo, but the second one, it was unintentional. It just happened. God, it was so good.”

“Damn it, Jameo. I am never going to be able to look at Milk Duds the same way.” I playfully swat his arm, and he grabs my hand, keeping hold of it as we continue down the road.

“Good. Glad to know my dick in your mouth is now going to be all you can think about while enjoying your favorite snack at the movies.” My eyes widen in shock as he taps his chin, pretending to think. “You know, you might even say that my cock is your favorite snack now.”

A double puff of air bursts from me, not quite a laugh, but what my sisters have deemed “the least girly giggle in the world.”

“Jesus H. Christ, Jameson.” I look around at the crowded sidewalk. “You can’t say shit like that. Particularly since—” Crap. Why do I let these things come out of my mouth? Dang it. I wonder if I should somehow use this opening to tell him I’m a virgin. No, not dropping that bomb…but maybe just like, casually let him know without actually telling him?

“Particularly since…what?” He squeezes my hand reassuringly.

I internally roll my eyes at my inability to control my mouth. Oh well, I’m in it now. “Particularly since your cock has never been in my mouth.” The merriment from his eyes is gone and it’s all dark smolder now. Don’t focus on his sex-eyes right now, Bryn. Keep going! “I’m definitely not willing to pass the favorite-snack award on without any sort of evidence.”

“Evidence, huh?” He clears his throat, but his voice still comes out a bit raspy.

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