Page 34 of Beyond the Bright Lights

Sorting through my grandparents' garage took about three hours, and by the time we finished, Mylan and I were sweaty, stinky, and starving. Gram sent me off with leftovers, and she even had a container ready for Mylan. He smiled and thanked her for her hospitality. He was putty in Gram’s hands, and it was the most out of character I’d seen him since meeting him a few days ago. With that on top of helping me with the garage, Mylan managed to redeem himself enough, so I officially took his strike away.

I’m not going to tell him. Not yet.

Learning about Mylan’s life, his family and friends, or lack thereof, broke my heart. Strangely, it made him normal. Real. More than a celebrity. People put movie stars on a pedestal. When they’re knocked down a peg, when they have real problems like everyone else, people no longer see the bright lights and fame. They see them. The real them.

The real Mylan is someone searching for a connection. He's lonely and desperate for affection. Could I offer that to him?

I think about Ginger’s words. She’s urging me to have a hot summer fling, but the more time I spend with him, the more I realize it’s a horrible idea. I wouldn’t be able to stop. Like donuts. There’s a reason why I don't treat myself to them often. I'd become addicted. I’d gain one hundred pounds and never look back.

What would I gain with Mylan?

A life in the spotlight.

A life with extravagant things that I don’t need or deserve.

A life with a man fifteen years younger than me.

On the other hand, having Mylan in my life could be good for the Tyler’s Team organization. It could mean more celebrity endorsements, more money, more exposure. After the book was released, funding spiked, but then it died down. Now that the movie is being made, money has started coming in again. But how long will that last?

Being with Mylan could also make me happy.

The thought makes me shiver. I haven’t allowed myself to be happy with another man since Tyler. I’ve had far too many relationships that started out great, but I’d always find a reason to end it. Small reasons. Stupid reasons. No one could ever live up to the sense of calm, security, and love that I had with Tyler.

But Mylan? He’s different. I can’t explain how, but I just know he is. Is it because he’s young and new and exciting? Is it because he’s frustrating and challenging and clearly attracted to me? Not that men aren’t attracted to me; they are, but they’ve never looked at me the way Mylan does. With a fire, with intention, with an uncontrollable need.

When Mylan told me he’d stop flirting, my heart lurched. I don’t want him to stop, which isn’t fair because I was surely giving off mixed signals. I keep saying no, but the word is meaningless, because keeping him at a distance is not what I truly want.

This is stupid. It’s only been a few days. My thoughts are going crazy, letting my vagina take the wheel.

Yes. This is my vagina talking. She’s been neglected and every time Mylan is near, my desire awakens from the dungeons where I've imprisoned it. It begs to be claimed. My will to keep my hands to myself cracks with every heated look he gives me. It webs like broken glass with every filthy thing he says to me.

It’s Tuesday morning and I'm getting ready to meet Mylan. I’m taking him up to the high school where some of Tyler’s former teammates, now teachers, agreed to talk with us.

I’m anxious.

I hadn’t seen Mylan since I dropped him off at his hotel yesterday afternoon. He needed to start working on the accent, and I decided to go to the bar despite Monday being my normal day off. Ginger worked out a schedule with my staff to allow me time off while helping Mylan, and I told her I’d be around most nights as long as day shifts were covered.

I’d expected Mylan to walk into the bar last night, even though I told him not to come. I said I was tired of seeing his face after spending an entire day with him, which was a total lie that he absolutely did not believe. But Mylan stayed away and gave me, and my lust for him, a night of peace. I told myself I was relieved despite the hint of disappointment that I quickly batted away.

It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours since I’ve seen him, so why am I excited?

I choose a light blue Cami dress and flip-flops to wear today, knowing it will be hot as Hades in the school. During the summer, they turn off the air conditioning and open all the windows to save money.

Staring at myself in the full-length mirror next to my bed, I try to see what Mylan sees. Don’t get me wrong. I know I'm beautiful. It took me years to love myself and my body. In college, I weighed 140 pounds and most of that was muscle from cheerleading. Now, I’m well over two hundred.

I tortured myself with exercising and limited calories because I had a role to play. I was the hot fiancée of the star college football player. In high school, we were the homecoming king and queen, the popular girl with the popular boy. We ruled the school. And for what?

Our popularity and so-called society acceptable bodies didn’t stop Tyler from dying.

Now, as my eyes travel across all my curves, the stretch marks, the fat folds, I smile. This is my body now. This is the body my mind and soul belong to. This is the body I love and deserve.

I’m adjusting the spaghetti straps and admiring how amazing my tits look in this dress thanks to the built-in bra, when there’s a knock at my door.

“Come in,” I yell, knowing it’s Mylan. He offered to drive today. Well, not him driving since he has a driver.

The door opens and out of the corner of my eye, I see him walk in.

“I’m almost ready,” I say, flattening the fabric of the dress along my stomach. I angle my head to check out my ass.

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