Page 15 of The Close-Up
“What? Are you serious—”
Simon bursts out laughing. “I’m kidding, Naomi.”
I let out a breath of relief. “Thank god.”
“If only I could have seen your face.”
“You’re insufferable.” My tease earns me a throaty chuckle.
Two weeks in a house rental with Simon Rutler would have been a fantasy come true for early twenties me. If this works out, sharing living quarters with Simon could get a bit...intimate. We’ll see each other at all hours of the day and night. Keeping to my self-imposed professionalism code is going to get real difficult real fast if I happened to see him shirtless or run into him in a towel right after he’s hopped out of the shower.
I shake my head. This is ridiculous. As long as we abide by the boundaries that we’ve set for ourselves, attraction aside, we’ll be just fine. We’ve managed so far. And I know better than to just think with my lady parts.
At least I think I do.
“You’d better get used to my insufferable-ness if you’re gonna spend two weeks with me in Lake Tahoe.” The tease in Simon’s tone is crystal clear. And it does nothing but spur me on.
“Oh, I’m ready.”
Chapter Four
One week into this couples’ retreat and I’m buzzing with excitement. Almost all of the seven couples here agreed to have a session filmed for the extended series. I’ve sent some raw footage and a few edited teaser clips to Fiona and I’ve never seen that many exclamation points in any of her past emails to me combined. She even typed a smiley face—she’s never, ever typed a smiley face in anything she’s sent me before. It’s clear she’s ecstatic about the series. She even bumped up the airdate for the first episode by one week. That means she has full confidence in what a hit this series will be.
As I open my eyes and stretch in bed, my smile doesn’t budge. If I knock this out of the park, Fiona mentioned a promotion to senior editor and producer, which means I’ll be able to spearhead more long-running projects. I’d get a staff of people to work with instead of doing all the storyboarding, researching, filming, and editing on my own. As much as I love having all that control, being able to share the massive workload would be a welcome change.
I climb out of bed and head into the bathroom to get ready for the day. The soft hum of the coffee grinder from the kitchen echoes from the kitchen down the hall. That’s probably Simon. In the time that I’ve spent sharing living quarters with him, I’ve learned he’s an early riser who fires up kitchen appliances first thing in the morning. A perpetual late sleeper on my days off, I let out a small groan of annoyance. But then I remember that I get fresh coffee as a trade-off and my grumpy mood slowly melts away.
While I brush my teeth, I frown at the state of the bathroom counter I’m sharing with him. Almost all of the contents of his toiletry bag are scattered over the marble surface. As minorly annoying as it’s been to navigate his mess each morning, it’s also weirdly endearing. For years I saw Simon as this perfect, untouchable fantasy that I watched and gushed over. But every day since we’ve been on this retreat, I’ve see him perform ordinary, unglamorous tasks like sweeping the floor and taking out the trash, and it’s humanizing him. He’s no longer the mysterious cam guy I used to lust after. Right now he’s my work assignment. A regular guy. Kind of like finding out the celebrity you’ve idolized for years and years uses the same discount fabric softener as you.
After I wash my face, I skip doing my hair and makeup in favor of downing some coffee. I walk into the kitchen, giving Simon a silent wave as I make my way over to the cupboard for a mug. He responds with a nod as he looks at his phone and takes a long gulp from his cup. He’s learned that I’m not a morning person and don’t care to talk much before I’ve had my first few sips of coffee.
I turn around and see him standing there, pot of coffee in his hand. When he pours it into my cup, I offer him a sleepy smile of thanks before blowing on it and taking a sip. He leans against one end of the counter while I lean against the sink and drink quietly for a few minutes.
“Sleep well?” he asks.
I nod, taking in the gray sweatpants and tattered white shirt he’s sporting. He’s the only person I know who can wear morning grogginess attractively. His eyes are puffy, his face is covered in scruff, and his hair is tangled and mussed, but he looks just as dashing as he does clean-shaven and decked out in a suit.
I take another long sip of coffee and hum at the rich, full flavor. “You’re a coffee god. How do you make plain black coffee taste so good?”
“The secret is the roast. And the beans. I found this little place in the Mission District that sells these incredible Ethiopian beans. Best I’ve ever had. And then you have to grind them yourself, right before you brew. That’s it.”
“Well, if your current job hits a snag, you can always be a barista. I’d pay you whatever you want for a cup like this. I’m hooked on this godlike coffee.”
“Godlike, huh?” He inches closer to me. The cheeky way he raises his eyebrow has me giggling.
“Wish I could say the same about your cleaning skills.”
He laughs.
“You are a human tornado, Simon. You leave dirty dishes in the sink and wet towels on the bathroom floor like it’s your job.” I lightly knock my shoulder into his.
He winces at the floor and for a second I think I’ve taken the joking too far. As well as we’ve been getting along, we’re still at the beginning stage of being friends and colleagues. Maybe I should hold back a bit.
But then when he looks up, he’s grinning. He shrugs. “One of my few flaws, I suppose.”
I chuckle, relieved that he’s not offended.
“So. What’s on the docket for today?” he asks as I down the rest of the coffee in my mug.
