Page 78 of Love Me Like It's Real
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he likes seeing me laugh. But Idoknow better.
“But we also cut off the movies before the happily ever after because those are total BS and never happen in real life,” he says, and somehow his words sober me up.
Not because he’s said something serious, but because he’s said something predictable.
For all his expertise with setting my body on fire and the skill of his tongue, Hayworth is…I don’t know how to describe him. Very childish. He’s got a cynical, almost immature view on love and relationships. He’s made hating love his entire personality and despite being a year older than me he doesn’t seem to care about his future.
“It’s super fun. I swear,” he says and despite everything I believe him. “You should come.”
I do believe him. And I do like him. Perhaps more than I should, but I can’t help it. He makes me laugh. He makes me feel young. And he makes me feel alive.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I’m starting to fall in love. But Ishouldknow better.
But if I truly did, I wouldn’t be doing any of this. I wouldn’t be giving Elsa and Arya hope and most importantly, I wouldn’t be giving myself hope. And hope is the last thing I need after everything we’ve been through.
I should put an end to this before we’re all in too deep, but…
The mere thought makes my stomach and chest ache and I’m afraid I’m in too deep already, like a fool.
TWENTY-THREE
HAYWORTH
How do I know Valentine’s Day is coming up? When my mailbox is bursting at the seams with unread job requests.
Everyone seemingly remembers their partner exists on thisoneday of the year and wants to do something extra special for them. It usually involves a candlelit dinner, flowers, and chocolates, but not in my world. In my world people either want to honeytrap their honey, or seduce their one and true love…by making them insanely jealous.
People are so predictable. So horrible and yet predictable.
Not Felix though.
Anytime I feel like I know him, that I can tell what he’s thinking, what he’s planning, what he’s after, he does something to surprise me. It’s exhilarating if not a little frustrating.
All these years I’ve relied on my skills and knowledge of people to get what I want. To do my job, but with him? I still don’t know what the end goal is.
Every time I think the whole purpose is making the girls believe there’s something between us, he surprises me with a sext. Every time I think he can be a friend with benefits, he brings up the town and the blog and how we can “rehabilitate” my image. And every time we talk about becoming Maplewood’s golden boys, it’s back to the girls and the facade of our fake relationship.
No wonder I can’t stop thinking about him with all the mixed signals he’s sending.
My phone beeps and I take a break from answering—and rejecting—emails to check my messages.
Message from Felix, reads the notification.
I tap on it and almost fall backwards on my chair. It’s not a text message. It’s not even a sext. It’s a full-blown image of his throbbing cock—and holes—for my enjoyment only.
My own cock stirs in my pants and I try to steady myself on the chair and control my breathing.
There we go. Felix being a wild card once again. Not that his dick-pic is unsolicited. We’ve had way more conversations about our genitals than I care to admit and we’ve even talked about exchanging pictures for the lonely jerk-off nights, but he’s always dismissed my requests as a joke.
Hayworth:
Wow, to what do I owe the pleasure?
I put my phone down. I try to ignore the mouthwatering hairy groin I’ve fantasized about way more than any other in my life and try to focus on answering emails.
So many people. Even if I want to take the jobs, there are far too many for one person to manage and I like to vet my clients and their lives so I can ensure good results. Taking on more people all in the same location could result in unknown variables, like people knowing me and what I do.
My phonebloopsagain and the way I turn to grab it as if my life depends on it makes me half-ashamed for being so…weak.
