Page 87 of Off Camera
From wondering what it would be like to fuck her in front of those mirrors.
How that silk would feel between my fingers and how easily it would rip.
Avery
What do you think?
Me
Hang on a sec. I’ll send you my credit card number.
Buy as many as you want.
Avery
Do you think you make more money than me?
Me
I hope we’re paid the same, but that was a desperate way to say I’d like to see you in one of every fucking color.
Purple is my favorite, though.
My brain is short-circuiting.
Avery
Good. I hope book club is fun.
Me
Come over after.
Avery
Now who wants who again?
Me
Please?
I can’t think of a more coherent response.
I do want her again, and it’s confusing as hell.
She’s not part of the routine, an anomaly that’s throwing a wrench in my plans of staying focused. Of keeping my eyes on the prize; not just our bet, but the incentives set by my manager too.
How the hell am I supposed to say no tothat, though?
Guys like me don’t get women like her.
Maverick and Dallas and Hudson and Riley get women like her. They breathe, and women fall to their feet.
Me?
No fucking chance.
Every time I’m with Avery, it still feels like a fever dream.
