Page 101 of Wild Hit
Here?
I resist the instinctive urge to look around to confirm. Consciously, I know there’s nothing but green behind me. Subconsciously, I can feel all my teammates’s excitement at the unfolding scene. You’d think they’re watching a telenovela being filmed, instead of the behind the scenes of a sports apparel commercial.
But sure enough, Audrey receives the oil bottle from the other girl and pops it open with calm and certainty. Complete unfazed. Unbothered. Bored, even.
“All right, let’s start heading back to the gym,” our captain barks in the quiet. There are some mild protests until he adds, “We’ve wasted enough time here and we have a World Series to qualify for. Let’s move it.”
Groans and complaints echo as he starts to herd the cats back inside, but fortunately some of the more rational guys join in the efforts. That’s precisely when Audrey lands her warm, oiled up hands on my chest.
I jolt. She doesn’t seem to pick up on it. Something distracts me from behind her, and it’s Lucky giving me the most exaggerated wink.
Shit, so this was his little prank this time.
He figured out that I don’t have platonic feelings for my fake wife and is now making me suffer.
Meanwhile, the filming crew is busy setting up the equipment—cameras at different angles, reflectors, microphones, and stuff I don’t even know how to name. They’re professionals and don’t pay a lick of attention to us, which gives me the wrong feeling like Audrey and I are alone. While she rubs baby oil on my exposed skin.
I wonder if she can tell I’m sweating with the effort to not moan.
“Is this making you uncomfortable?” she asks all of a sudden, still in that casual tone of voice that betrays nothing.
The real answer is: yes. Like I’ve never been before. But only because I’ve never been at bigger risk of embarrassing myself in public.
Wait, is she noticing that?
I try to speak but a thick lump in my throat forces me to clear it first. “Why do you ask?”
“Well…” She trails off as her hands travel down my chest without bypassing the, uh, sensitive areas. “You looked really out of sorts with the idea of the crew member doing this, but it’s not like this is any better.”
Shit, it is. So much better. Too damn good.
I clench my jaw to keep down the noise of a feral raccoon in the dumpster of a fast food chain.
“I’m okay.” The hell I am. “Thanks for stepping in.” Hell yeah, I’ll treasure this moment for the rest of my damn hungry single dad life.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be quick,” she says while squeezing more oil onto her hands. She tucks the bottle under one of her arms, rubs up her hands to warm up the oil, and starts on my ribs.
I look up into the sky and nail my eyes into a cloud suspiciously shaped like a heart.Yeah, I know, I scream in my head.
“Are you okay, though?” I manage to ask.
“Hmm?”
“With the teasing and all that.”
“Oh.” She pauses. “Yep. Pretty sure this whole thing actually helped bystanders believe we’re married.” Another pause. “You acted like a very convincing husband too.”
Therein lies the problem. I wasn’t acting.
Even I surprised myself with how ready that threat was in my tongue.
She moves on to my back and I close my eyes in pure, tormented bliss. “I deserve an Oscar, huh?”
“You sure do,” she whispers behind me.
Somehow I keep my shit together, even as she unknowingly touches some other sensitive areas. When she’s done, the director asks me to do some basic stretching while they film to demonstrate the quality of the newSPORTYpants I’m modeling.
This time I’m the one who can’t meet Audrey’s watchful eye. And like every other time I’ve gotten my own damn mind deep in the gutter, I take it out on my hornball body with grueling exercise.
