Page 134 of Off Camera
“I’ll make you a martini,” Emmy says, joining us at the island in the center of the room. “Gin or vodka?”
“Vodka, please,” I say, leaning against the counter. “A double, if you can.”
She gives me a sly look and hums. “Any particular reason we’re indulging so heavily in alcohol? Does it have anything to do with the mark on your neck and why your lipstick is smeared?”
Maven gasps and touches my cheek. “Holy shit. Itissmeared.”
I fumble with my purse and pull out a compact, groaning when I see the bright red streak across my jaw. “Goddamn him.”
“Who is him? Are you seeing someone?” Maven asks, and I sit on a barstool.
“I’ll tell you, but you cannot make this a big deal, okay?” I say. “Really. You’re going to want to freak out, and there’s nothing to freak out about.”
“I promise,” she says.
“Reid and I have been… we’re…” I trail off, struggling to find the right words. “Sleeping together. We’ve been sleeping together. But we also spending time together outside the bedroom. And he bought me a special edition of my favorite romance novel for Christmas. We text a lot, and, well, I don’t know.” I shrug and brush a pile of crumbs into a hand. “Sex. We’re having sex.”
Maven looks at Emmy. “This sounds familiar,” she says.
“Is it? Reid is a lot less obnoxious than Miller,” Emmy says as she pours a generous serving of vodka into the shaker. “He also has the glasses thing going for him and he’s not a total playboy with an ego the size of the state of Maryland. I don’t see how they’re related at all, actually.”
“I’m confused.” I drop my elbows to the counter and rest my chin in my hands. “Can someone fill me in?”
“This is exactly how Maverick and Emmy got together. They were at each other’s throats, until one day, they kissed. Fast forward a few years later, and she’s wearing his ring on her finger,” Maven explains.
“Reid and I aren’t… it’s not dating,” I explain as Emmy hands me my drink. “It’s sex and then some. A friends with benefits arrangement with extras on the side. Like today. I get to come here and spend the evening with you all.”
“Do you like spending time with him?” Maven asks, and I sip on my martini.
There’s a moment of hesitation where I think about keeping these thoughts and feelings I’ve been having to myself, but I see them watching me, and I’m struck with howbadlyI want to spill my secrets.
Making friends as an adult woman is so fucking hard. It’s nearly impossible when you add in a job with a heavy workload that requires frequent traveling. I’m constantly surrounded by men, looked at asone of the boysjust because of my job, and I find myself craving the femininity that comes with talking with close female confidants.
“Yeah,” I say. “Lately, it seems like all my free time is spent with him.”
“What happened to never sleeping with him again?” Maven teases, and I groan. “I distinctly remember sitting in a booth with you when you said those very words.”
“I thought that too. That was the plan. Then he kissed me, and, well, here we are. Having sex on a near daily basis.”
“Daily?” Maven repeats, incredulous. “I didn’t realize it was so serious.”
“It’snotserious.”
“Spending almost every day with someone is teetering closer to serious than it is casual.” She glances at Emmy and tilts her head to the side. “A little help, Hartwell?”
“I’m not sure I have anything to add. As long as everyone understands the rules of the relationship—and I use that term loosely—what’s the harm?” Emmy asks.
“We’re both well aware of what it is and what it isn’t.” I pause and trace the rim of my glass with my finger. “I might have a teeny, tiny crush on him, though, and that goes outside of what’s allowed. It’s not what we agreed on.”
“Sex can go from detached to intimate real quick. It’s nearly impossible to separate yourself from the person if you’re consistently with them. A one-night stand is easy. You get what you want out of it then go on your way. Repeatedly seeing the same person allows time for those what-ifs to pop up. It’s what happened with me and pretty boy,” Emmy says, sounding matter-of-fact. Like she’s talked about this a hundred times. “Take me and pretty boy, for example. One minute, it’s all about each other’s pleasure. The next, he’s taking care of me when I’m sick and washing my hair. I’m not immune to romantic gestures; that’s enough to sweep anyone off their feet. I think it’s normal to develop some sort of emotional connection with someone who’s seeing the most vulnerable parts of you.”
“That’s the thing,” I say. “Heisseeing the most vulnerable parts of me. It’s not intentional, but he’s putting together the puzzle of my life, and I’m afraid of what happens when he finds the final piece. What then?”
“Well.” Maven takes my hand and smiles. “That’s generally when people fall in love. It’s not something you plan. It’s something that happens along the way.”
That word again.
The same one I tossed around earlier.
