Page 33 of Her Supermodel Stalker
“Let me help you, please,” Devin insists. “I’m an excellent cook.”
My mom giggles. “Sure, come on in!”
Devin convinces my mom to modify her simple dinner dish into Pasta Alla Norma by adding fried eggplants, grated cheese, and basils. The house is soon filled with the aroma of frying vegetables. I play with Jimmy while listening to the laughter coming from the kitchen. Gosh. This is more than perfect—a blissful, domestic picture that I’ve often pined for. For years I thought a man wasn’t important, but a man in the house can really make a difference, not to mention a man who cooks.
And just who is Devin Gamble! I didn’t know the man at all. All I knew about him was from the media. They portrayed him as an irresponsible, though gorgeous, womanizer. But within the last two weeks, I’ve learned so much about him that few people on earth know. He’s the most romantic and loving person I know, not to mention hot. I wish I could share my experience on social media and let the world know about the real Devin Gamble. But too bad I’m not at the liberty to do it.
The pasta is so good we’re all stuffed at the end. After dinner, when my mom is bathing Jimmy, Devin follows me into my room. “Wait, you shouldn’t be here!” I try to block him at the door.
“Why not?” he asks, smiling.
“It’s messy.”
“I don’t mind. I want to see your room. You’ve seen mine. It’s only fair.” He insists.
I bite my lip. I don’t want him to see the evidence of my obsession with him, but I don’t want to be rude, either. “Just give me a moment, okay?” I say to him.
I close the door behind me and quickly tear the posters down and shove them into the closet.
“Okay, you may come in.” I open the door for Devin.
He steps in, looking around carefully as if searching for something. “It’s not messy at all,” he says.
“I…err… cleaned it up a bit.”
“What used to be there?” He points out the empty spot on the wall, between the pictures of a modern painting and a cat.
Damn. He’s got sharp eyes.
“I don’t remember. I mean, there hasn’t been anything,” I say in a small voice.
“Are you sure?” he looks me in the eye. “There are four holes. And there’s a thumbtack on the floor, too.”
Shit. It must’ve fallen earlier. I quickly go pick it up. “Oh Jeez, where did it come from?” I say, feigning surprise.
He chuckles. And then, without warning, he pulls open the door of the closet, and the posters fall right onto his face.
I gasp as he backs a step and then smirks as he stares at the posters. “Just as I thought,” he says smugly.
“You!” I’m so embarrassed I can’t even look at him. “You knew! How?”
Picking up the posters, he says, “Jimmy told me the first time we met that I was the man in his mommy’s bedroom.”
My cheeks burn, and I bury them in my face. “I’m so sorry.”
He takes my hands and pries them away from my face, and then he cups my face and kisses me. “Come on, Lexi, are you ashamed of being obsessed with me, even after what I told you about my obsession with you?”
I shake my head. “I’m just embarrassed. I’m a mom of a four-year-old, and yet, I still keep posters of a supermodel in my room.”
“Stop calling me a supermodel, please. I’m not a model anymore, at least not when I’m with you. And I want to be more to you.”
His voice is so low and deep. A string tugs in my belly by the sound of it, and my heart raps in my ribcage. “What…do you mean? What do you want to be?”
“I want to be your man,” he says, in that low gravelly voice again.
I’m melting into a puddle. “Are you serious?” I mutter in a throaty voice.
He nods firmly. “Very. Can I?”
