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pascalpanic · 4 years ago

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Caffeine Rush: Chapter Seven / Decaf

W/C: 4k

Warnings: language, dirty thoughts, all of the dirty thoughts because Javi is a horndog, male masturbation... general spice. pining that could make a pine cone tremble.

A/N: welcome to pining central, enjoy your stay :) (ps when Steve says “Javier Peña” I need you to read that in the voice of Anthony Mackie going “SEBASTIAN STAN”)

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ordinary coffee that has had most of its caffeine removed from it before the beans are roasted.

You are a goddamn test on Javier’s self control. He feels like those biblical stories of men fighting back against temptation to prove themselves to God, except the only thing he has to prove is to himself. To you.

He’s always been enraptured by you, captivated by your smile and laugh but since you went ice skating, he hasn’t been able to get your body out of his mind. The way you fell asleep on him last night, nuzzled in like it was the safest place on earth. He could feel your breasts press into his skin, the warmth of your thigh hiked across his abdomen. If the past week has been some caffeine-induced fever dream, it’s becoming real now. You, a figment of his imagination before, maybe, are all flesh and blood and God, is he desperate for it.

Javier hangs around your apartment when you’re gone at work. He doesn’t have much else to do, considering you’re gone and he knows hardly anything about the city. He watches the daytime television on your couch, usually meanders to the coffee shop for a drink, spends some time there, and returns to the apartment.

He feels like he’s couch-surfing, like he did for a summer in his college years. He feels guilty occupying the space in your home, especially without payment. As he walks to the bathroom, he takes a long glance into your bedroom. The queen-sized bed is mussed, unmade before you left for work. The fitted sheet is pooled in the middle beneath where you sleep, the various blankets tossed about. It looks like the coziest damn thing he’s ever seen, especially after a couple of nights on a couch.

Javier almost thinks about giving in, waiting for you to ask him to sleep in your bed tonight then jumping at the chance. Maybe he will, if he’s tired enough. Maybe he won’t, but maybe he will. He can think of nothing better than the endless whir of the radiator as your perpetually-cold body nuzzles against him, brushes your nose against his bare chest.

It’s been a long time since Javi has fucked anyone, and he’s starting to feel it. He’s a little antsy, and the image of your body, your ass as you ice skate past him, haunts him like a bad dream- or rather some illicit fantasy he knows he shouldn’t be having.

Would you want him yet? You’ve told him you love him, but that was an accident. When he kisses you, you kiss back harder. Hell, you initiated the first kiss. You seem like you’ve been all-in on this relationship, taking things at a rushed pace that Javier certainly doesn’t mind. He spends a lot of the day contemplating that, standing on the tiny balcony of your apartment and smoking a couple of cigarettes.

At this point, he needs a distraction or he’s going to have to take matters into his own hands, quite literally. What better to kill the horny buzz making his head spin than to call Murphy?

The phone is in your bedroom, on the nightstand. Javier dares to sit on the edge of your bed, and actually moans aloud at the plush comfort, the way his ass sinks into it. Goddamn, he’ll have to get one of these. He wants nothing more than to lay back and fall into the bed, wait for you to get home and pound you into the comfortable mattress. But he doesn’t. He stays strong and picks up the phone, dialing the new Murphy residence in Miami.

After a couple of rings, a familiar voice answers. “Murphy’s.”

“Hey, bastard,” Javier chuckles, and he can hear the blonde man’s laughter from across the receiver.

“Javier Peña,” Steve drawls, dragging out the name. “Good to hear your voice, man. You finally come out of a ten-day celebratory drunkenness?”

“Don’t talk to me about binges,” Javier teases, but he smiles a little. He’s missed the man. He’s glad neither of them got in any trouble over the entire Los Pepes situation- God, that feels like ages ago now. It’s hard to believe he’s only been in D.C. what, eleven days? If Steve’s math is right, yeah. “No. I’m in D.C. still, if you can believe it. Just… bored.”

“Oh really?” the man scoffs, leaning against his kitchen counter in Miami with Olivia on his hip. “And why’s that? What are you still doin’ up there anyway? Thought you were goin’ to visit the old man.”

Javier shakes his head. “Plans changed. There’s, uh… there’s a girl.”

Steve lets out a wolf whistle, laughing. “And how much does she charge a night?”

“Not one of those. She works at a coffee shop around here,” he informs him. “She’s… she’s really something. Nothing I ever thought I’d be into. She’s gorgeous, man, and so energetic all the damn time. Seems like she has an IV of coffee from her shop,” he chuckles, looking off into space. He takes a pause. Steve doesn’t speak. “I wanna be with her Steve. I don’t… I don’t know if I can go back.”

He’s silent a little longer. “This is some kind of practical joke, right?” Steve says after a beat, barely holding back a laugh. Never has Javier been so sincere, so real and honest and open. And more specifically, he’s never been like this over a girl. Almost… mushy. Soft. “Tell me more,” he says, hoping the joke will give up.

Javier talks about you, describing every little detail with a grin on his face. He tells Steve about Tie Guy and ice skating and your piece of shit car, how you can spin in circles on the ice and how you remind him of a busy little bee, fluttering about the coffee shop.

Steve is genuinely rendered speechless; a hard thing to do. He blinks down at Olivia then straight ahead at the refrigerator, covered in photos and magnets and drawings. He can’t imagine Javier ever wanting something like this, like what he and Connie have, but he sure sounds like it. “That’s… something. Good for you, Javi,” Steve chuckles, resigning to sincerity. “I’m happy for you.”

Javier grumbles back. “Don’t get too happy. I have to go back to Calí in three weeks. She doesn’t want me to leave… I don’t know what to do, Murph. I can’t bring her with, you know that, but I can’t just leave her here. And I sure as hell can’t quit.”

“You could quit.”

“I’m not going to, how’s that?” Javier huffs and crosses his arms, annoyed by Steve and his goddamn wording loopholes. “I just… fuck. I’m gonna go think about it before she gets back.”

“She comin’ to your hotel? You sure you aren’t paying per night?” He smirks.

Javier’s quiet and Steve isn’t sure what it means until he talks. “I’m, uh, staying at her place. She insisted.”

Steve whistles again. “Damn. You’re whipped, Peña. Well, I’ll let you go. Call again soon. I miss ya, bud,” he tells Javier in a moment of earnesty then hangs the phone back on the receiver, bringing Olivia to her nursery to change her diaper.

Javi sighs and falls backwards on the bed, admiring the way the mattress holds his body compared to the couch. Yeah, he’ll definitely need to sleep in here tonight or he’s going to crack his spine.

The issue will be you. He could handle it on the couch; it was like a soft, adolescent form of love, innocent and warm. Of course, it could still be the same in your bed. But would it? Is there not a different set of implications that come with the two of you sharing a bed?

Snuggling with you on the couch was nice. Wonderful, perfect even. Javier loves falling asleep with you in his arms. But in your bed, arms curled around him, maybe even being his little spoon… that perfect body pressed flush to his own, your soft ass against his groin, your breathing pushing back into his chest… that would be an entirely different thing. And he wants it, he really does, but he isn’t sure he’ll be able to control himself.

He slept like shit the last night, to be honest. You on top of him prevented him from moving, and Javier is an active sleeper. His neck was at an odd angle and his back twisted. His body feels like it did after that fight with Tie Guy. He can’t- wouldn’t- invade your privacy of your bed without you home to give him the go ahead, but he’s so damn tired. Not even the coffee helps.

So Javier indulges in one of life’s little pleasures he rarely gets to experience: a nap. Curled up on his side on the couch, blankets pulled snug around his fetal-positioned body, Javier drifts off to the sound of the noon news on the television.

That’s how you find him when you come home. He’s peacefully asleep, his lips parted and mustache moving with his exhales. Well, he’s clearly alive. That’s good.

You’re not sure how long he’s been asleep, so you leave him, making yourself something to eat in the kitchen. You avoid the living room as you get settled in, changing out of your espresso-stained clothing and into something more comfortable.

When you’re all comfy, makeup removed and a warm sweater on, you sit at the other end of the couch. Javier’s curled into a ball, his feet just inches away from your legs. You hope when he moves, he’ll feel you there and wake. If not, oh well. He deserves the rest.

It’s gray and cloudy outside, and you snuggle into the corner of the couch while reading your worn copy of The Great Gatsby. It’s the one you’ve been re-reading recently, what you were reading that first day Javi wandered into your coffee shop and subsequently your life.

Javi wakes not long later, maybe half an hour, to the sound of your book crinkling. The paperback’s spine crunches with wear, and his eyes flutter open to see you tucked against a pillow. God, you look like an angel, the light from the cloudy day filtering in and illuminating you from the back. Your face is calm and peaceful, focused as your eyes trace the words of F. Scott Fitzgerald. “Hi,” Javier mumbles groggily.

Your expression turns to a smile and you set down the book. “Hey.” You take his legs and drape them across your lap, tracing your fingers across them. “How’d you sleep?”

He groans. “Okay. Neck hurts.”

“That wouldn’t be an issue if you’d just sleep with me,” you sing-song to him, stroking his legs through the comfortable pants he wears. “My bed is super cozy.”

God, does Javier know it. It felt like your love itself when he laid down and the warmth of it swallowed him, practically whole. “Maybe I’ll give in,” he sighs, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “How was work? Sorry I didn’t visit.”

“Boring as always,” you chuckle. “What did you do today?”

Javi frowns as he thinks about it, his brain fogged with sleep. “Not much. Called Murphy, talked a while. He’s doing good.”

“Good,” you nod and smile. “When will I get to meet this elusive Steve?” You ask, softly kneading at his legs through the blanket and frowning as you realize he’s wearing… jeans. “Wait, pause. Are you seriously wearing jeans?” you ask him and laugh, lifting the blanket to confirm what you already suspected.

He frowns defensively, crossing his arms. “Maybe.”

“Why the fuck would you take a nap in jeans, Javi?” You laugh.

Javier looks away, frowning. The stubbornness shows. “I don’t own many comfortable clothes besides what I wear to work, if you haven’t noticed,” he retorts, but you can’t help but giggle. “Plus I thought I’d only be here to get fired.”

You smile at him lovingly and cup his face. “You sweet, stupid workaholic. Let’s go shopping later, get you some cozy stuff.”

Javier warms against your touch but maintains a pout. “I like jeans.”

Rolling your eyes, you huff out a laugh. “Would a pair of sweatpants be detrimental to your wardrobe, Javier?”

“Stop using big words,” he groans. “I’m barely awake.”

The large mall is annoying to Javier, full to the brim with last-minute (or maybe prepared, he never holiday-purchases) shoppers. He holds your hand, shooting feisty glares at anyone that dares to bump against his or, god forbid, your side. “Relax,” you tease and squeeze his free hand. The other carries a bag containing two hoodies, three t-shirts, and two pairs of sweatpants. “You’re not on a mission, and you certainly don’t have the knuckles to pitch another fight.”

He looks at his hands and scowls. You’re right. They’re no longer black and blue but faded yellows and greens, a spare bit of purple over the bones. The fight wasn’t that long ago, really, even though it feels like an eternity.

You drag Javier into a favorite shop of yours. He follows you around like a lost puppy while you search through clothes. He even hands you one or two tops he thinks you’d look nice in. You kiss him on the cheek and he dares to smile for a moment before returning to his stone-faced annoyance at such a packed area.

The dressing rooms are nicer, much more spaced out and offering places to rest. Javier sits in a chair across from your little cubby as you try things on. Every time you find something, you come out and model it for him. He comments, always positively, gives a little applause and smiles at the twirl you give in the big trifold mirror.

There’s one pair of leggings that hug your ass tight. Javier nearly salivates at them. “I like those,” he comments. “They look comfortable.” The same follows with a pair of jeans, even more flattering. He crosses his legs and nods, giving you similar comments.

Then come the dresses and tops. They’re all low-cut, not the wintery clothing Javier’s always seen you in. They show off your cleavage, and one scarlet colored blouse with a low neckline and fluffy sleeves makes Javier’s eyes simultaneously light up and darken. “How’s this one?” You ask, tugging at the sleeves.

“How much is it?” He asks, leaning back and looking at you through lidded eyes.

“Uh…” you tell him the cost and look back up at him, expecting a comment. “Why?”

“I’m buying that for you myself,” he smirks up at you, eyeing you up and down in a way that makes your skin feel intensely hot. The sight is stunning to him, and your flustered smile makes the smirk a little more devilish.

Javier does end up buying you the shirt, and you purchase a few other things you liked. But that scarlet shirt is stuck on Javier’s mind in replay: the subtle valley between your tits, how they filled out the shirt just perfectly and tugged at the cloth covering them, the way they look painfully soft to the touch, especially through that soft fabric. He wonders if you were wearing a bra under it. Then he has to stop himself.

You eat dinner late, chatting mindlessly over everything and nothing. Javier has no work to speak of now, so he tells you tall tales of the hunt for Escobar, some exaggerated and some underplayed. He mainly listens to you, asks about your past and your future, your family and your job. He could never tire of your voice, the soothing lull that warms him from the inside out, just like your skin flushed in that goddamn red top.

He drives the both of you home, humming softly to the songs on the radio. He’s beginning to recognize more and more of the top-40 hits on a certain preset station, songs he’d never listen to on his own. He glances over at you, gazing out of the window, and feels his body warm again- not just in his heart, but his stomach and lower too. He dares to steal a glance down, at the soft swell of your tits in that sweater. God, he wants to get you naked.

But he doesn’t. He doesn’t know what you want and he’s too afraid to ask, too afraid to shatter this blissful phase of adoration without the sexual attraction. He wonders if you feel it too, if your clothes suddenly feel too restricting and too warm when you run a hand down his bare back.

The nightly routine ensues: you shower. Javier changes, this time into a new hoodie but leaves his legs bare, wearing only boxers on the bottom. He waits on the couch, and when you exit the bathroom, he takes his turn. He returns and sits next to you on the couch.

Tonight, when you ask him to share your bed with you, he doesn’t say no. In fact, he doesn’t say much of anything, just yawns softly and stands, taking your hand.

It’s a sacred space, your bed. Javier knows it. He rarely fucks women in his; whether it’s for his own privacy or fear they’ll fall asleep there, he can’t say. But your bed is such an intimate expression of you, and he can see it. He can see the divot in the mattress where you sleep, the way you arrange the pillows just right for your own head. It is a queen size, but it’s single-occupancy: until now, that is, and Javier feels honored you’re willing to share this holiness with him.

He gets into the bed on the other side of you, the warm blankets enveloping him, and he nearly lets out a moan at the comfort. Compared to the hotel bed and the couch, this is sleeping on a literal cloud from the heavens. He lies still, waiting to see what you do first. Not wanting to overstep anything.

His prayers are answered when you snuggle into his side. You rest your head on his chest, kissing his sternum through the soft material of the hoodie. A hand rests on the other side of your face, and your legs both encircle one of his. Javier smiles, wrapping an arm around you. He presses a kiss into your hair and murmurs a goodnight, letting his head fall back. He has no time to worry about this situation before he falls asleep.

He falls asleep almost immediately, which makes you chuckle through your half-conscious state. He seems to always radiate heat, Javier. Your layers of blankets upon blankets suddenly feel unnecessary when a heat source the strength of the summer sun fills your bed. His chest is strong and firm beneath you. The rise and fall of his chest is like a boat rocking on the ocean, putting you at ease and allowing you to rest.

Fuck. He knew this was a bad idea. Why did he do this?

The clock reads 1:48 and Javier is wide awake, staring at your popcorn-stucco-whatever the fuck it is ceiling. He wasn’t able to process this before sleep overtook him, before his consciousness was wiped and with it, his inhibitions.

Your body is pressed to his so perfectly. You sleep without a bra, and Javier can feel his arm being slightly sandwiched between your breasts, the way they press further into it every time you inhale. Your thighs are warm with sleep, and he can feel your core pressed against his hip, even while you sleep and even through the layers of clothing.

Javier feels like the embodiment of slime. You’re asleep and all he can think about is how fucking hot your body is, how much he wants to press you into this mattress and wake you with an orgasm. He wants to palm your tits and make your nipples harden through that flimsy shirt, to slide his fingers beneath your pajama bottoms and-

He can’t take it. He feels so wrong, the smell of you surrounding him and choking him like a thick perfume, even in its subtlety. He does not deserve to sleep next to you, innocently, like someone you love, when all he can think about is his own carnal desires.

Pushing back the covers, Javier gets out of bed before any more blood can flow to his slowly hardening dick. This is all wrong. He should not be doing this, thinking these things without knowing you feel the same.

But the guilt is as strong as his arousal. He watches you for a moment, torn between his options, before meandering through the darkened bedroom and finding his way into the bathroom. He turns on the bright lights and forces himself to stare at the bulbs, to make his pupils shrink from their blown state of sleep mixed with desperation. He’s fully awake now.

He needs to get the hardened length down. He can’t do this, can’t allow himself this suffering while you sleep in the next room.

The sink. Cold water. He gasps silently at the splash of the ice-cold water against his face, dampening the edges of his hoodie. It doesn’t work enough. Again. Nothing. He feels like a teenager, unable to control himself. The cold water is a good idea, though.

Javier strips down, trying to avoid the urge to take himself in hand and fix this here and now. Turning the water as cold as it can go, Javier turns on the shower and steps in.

Agony is the best term he has. It makes him want to squeal like a fucking pig as he shudders from the cold. It doesn’t work to force his erection down, but what use is it when it’s not something physical but mental stimulating him? The cold shock didn’t do shit. Javier’s still achingly hard. He turns the water warmer and sighs as it gradually turns to a tolerable temperature, one that he can relax under and allow himself to let out a deep sigh.

He has no other options, unless he wants to wait it out. Leaning against the wall, Javier strokes himself, biting his lip and hoping the water pressure will cancel any soft moans he can’t avoid. It doesn’t take long when he’s this aroused, when he knows exactly what the fantasy in his head would feel like.

Javier is panting and sweating, from the effort and the growing heat of the water. He feels disgusting but it feels so good, and he can’t help imagining you doing this to him, you spreading your legs and feeding the fire between his own.

It only takes a few minutes. He gasps as he cums, with a force he’s never brought forth with his own hand. He bites his lip so hard he’s sure he might cut it off, not allowing the desperate sounds to reach a level you could hear. When he’s done, he groans and cracks his neck. “Oh, little bee,” he whispers, agonized as he lets the water wash the evidence of his sins down the drain.

When he’s done, Javier walks into your bedroom, silently, in the dark. His previous boxers were stained with a patch of his precum; he can’t put those back on. He drops the towel and puts on different boxers.

After he’s changed, he looks at your bed longingly for a moment. The soft sheets, soft mattress, the soft body between them. But in Javier’s head, he’s forsaken his right to the warmth, the comfort.

When you wake in the morning, hours after you thought you heard the shower running, you find Javier is not in your bed. There isn’t even a warm spot where he lay, just your body shifted further from your normal sleeping position. When you wander out to make your morning coffee, you find him. He spent the night on the couch again.

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williamlitt · 5 years ago

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Moonshine

Today is Sunday. A peaceful mid-June afternoon, the sky is clear and there's a soft heat in the air. I've started my backpack Eurotrip a week ago. Last night was my third in Zagreb. But while getting up this morning, I got the feeling I was done here. So I just picked my bag and booked a ticket for the next train to the seaside.

Now I'm boarding on the wagon, and the seat assignment from my ticket is occupied. I had been going out quite often these last days, socializing a lot. So in this moment, I'm just feeling like isolating myself a bit. I see a free 1-seat spot in the corner. I sit there, anticipating a quiet and studious journey. It's the natural way to continue a quite introverted day. A few meters away, there's a sweetest spot though: some 2 & 2 facing seats, with a wide table in-between, perfect to write on my notebook more comfortably. Unfortunately, some random guy is already set-up there, and I happen not to be really in the mood for talking.

Okay, fine. Let's go anyway. At least I'll be enjoying the landscapes from a wider window.

Unavoidably, some conversation starts flowing with my new neighbor, a freshly graduated chilian backpacker. His name is Javier. Unexpectedly, we immediately get on very well. He had been traveling for a month already. We are quickly skipping the small-talk part, and his epic little stories end up reviving my empathy.

The train is almost ready to go. A large group of (probably) british guys have already filled up the other part of our wagon.

I haven't paid much attention to any newcomers until then. But when three (probably) foreign girls settle right next to us in the parallel row, I raise my head. Among them, one is really easy to notice. She has long and straight dark hair, blue eyes, a pale skin, a graceful silhouette.

Her appearance is rather pleasing to me, but there's something else. Perhaps the way she moves into space smoothly, her way of being present or something. She chooses the seat facing mine, but in the parallel row; so I have her on my right diagonal, not even 2 meters away.

It's not taking long for the train to depart and soon my conversation with Javier quiets down naturally ; so I pick my notebook while he grabs something to read.

The girls are chatting together, in some lenguage hard for me to identify. I'm apparently taking some notes, but these are kind of random. I cannot get a single word of what they are saying, but I love the sounds of it.

Then, I feel like trying to guess, so I clear my throat. « Hey; by any chance are you from the Baltic area? »

They look at me gently, and answer they are from Finland : Helsinki and Turku.

To fill the following silence, I go for the first genuine compliment popping up. « Finnish is a lenguage that is... » but I realize mid-sentence that using the word « beautiful » would be too generic and lazy, so I pause and look at her specifically - it then strikes me how stunning she is - I forget about the whole Finnish lenguage compliment thing - and just go like « ... special. »

My sentence altogether probably ends up sounding pretty weird, but well. What's there to answer? not much. We all get back quietly to our business.

Some minutes pass by. Then all of a sudden, she asks Javier and I if we have a pen to lend. He immediately answers « For sure! » but I'm quicker... I proudly offer her « a multicolor pen! », as if it was some seriously fancy item. She smiles.

I observe her writing down stuff on what seems to be a diary. She is charmingly expressive when writing, playful yet serious. Meanwhile, I'm also taking some notes. Kind of useful ones this time.

This lasts quite a while. And when she hands the pen back to me, I turn my head to find her eyes - they are captivating - clear blue but somehow dark - kind but untamed.

She says « thank you » kindly. I'm thinking « you're welcome » while looking at her, but no actual word comes out of my mouth (even though I have half-opened it). It's okay though, I feel she got what I meant.

The journey continues peacefully. Everyone is getting a bit sleepy. I lean my head on the window, watching the green landscapes go by. By now, she has moved out onto the two empty seats behind Javier, her back on my window. I can see her hair in the narrow space.

I'm thinking of the many hours left to spend on the train; of the many times I had pathetically watched my chance slip away; and of stuff being all so ephemere anyway, etc.

As logical conclusion, I go and rip off a piece of paper. The note I write on it is basic: I'm asking for her name while giving her mine. I fold it into a tiny paper plane. Then, I discretely throw it to her, above the seat in front of me.

While awaiting for a reaction, I start conditionning myself to appear all cool and casual about it, even though I'm experiencing a little rush of stress.

Several seconds later, her face appears from in-between the front backseats. She's looking straight at me. Her expression is a mix of shock, interrogation and amusement. It seems like she is mentally asking « are you serious?! »

The intense eye contact we have makes me forget about all my plans. I have the impression I am talking to someone I've known for a while already.

So just like that, this little game suddenly feels like the most obvious thing to do. I spontaneously smile, shrug and rise my eyebrows, mentally answering "why not?"

Then her face suddenly lights up; she agrees with a genuine smile.

It doesn't last long until I see her answer rolling down to my feet, on the same tiny paper.

Her name is Eva. And she's enquiring about what is up.

I tell her I'm going to the city of Split. She tells me they also are. I tell her about my backpacking plans. She'd been around before and gives me a few tips.

Now and then, to make sure new notes are well-received, we glance at each other discretely, in-between backseats and window.

The notes are progressively growing in length. By now, an official mailing channel has been established below the seat next to Javier. At some point, he notices something is off, and looks at me interrogatively. I say I'd explain later, then wink at him.

Little by little, we start to get to know each other. I learn she's fond of some old French photographer I had never heard of ; that she's been especially into Finnish music recently ; or that her grandma loves bossa nova.

Time and landscapes fly. Now there's only one hour left to roll. Soon our little game would be over and we would both go our way. She's still there but I'm already thinking about how to see her again.

We've already exchanged contact infos to keep in touch « in case we hear of any cool musical event happening in Split ». But I start doubting about whether that's enough or not. Without any further calculation, I draw two little squares to check on the next note. I'm openly wondering « what would be the coolest thing between: a) keeping the notes flowing; and b) just starting to chat casually ».

She answers drawing a third little checked square which says « or you're very welcome to come and sit next to me ».

Then I feel half-enchanted, half-tensed. Everyone around us is pretty quiet at the moment, and I have no idea what I'm supposed to tell her. On the notes, I had the time to think, to choose my words correctly; there it would be total freestyle.

But now it's to late for hesitations. So I stand up, move toward her, offer her my hand to shake, say out loud in a jokingly formal voice « nice to meet you », and just sit next to her.

She is close now. Her pupils are dilated. She smiles at me in such a manner that my brain stops operating correctly.

It's relevant to say something else now, right ? I don't know. I have to look away to regain cold control.

« So... what do you do... like... in life ? », I ask her finally. She says she's a singer and an actress back in Finland. Plenty of new interrogations pop up in my mind. How did she get into this ? What are her inspirations ? How is daily life like ?

She is answering each of my questions briefly, while always asking back about me right away. That's funny, I think. I had been so used to meet people who enjoyed it more listening to themselves.

I can feel her confidence. She speaks with a clear and expressive voice. And the more I look at her, the more I can't help but feeling a bit impressed. She probably meets up with lots of cooler-than-average guys everyday. I'm feeling like I need to stand out, somehow.

It's harder to connect with people when we're in our head. And that's where I'm getting back right now. I'm thinking about what would be the best story to tell next, how could I tell it so subtly I'd appear cool and humble at the same time. I want all my questions and answers to be unexpected. I can't stand any small-talk or generic statements anymore.

I don't manage to really look deep into her eyes, now. She would see right through me. The conversation keeps going, but I've become more focused on playing my part correctly than actually connecting with her. I'm hearing myself telling stories I've told before. I notice all the little mistakes in my speech. She smiles and sometimes laughs sincerely, but I'm slowly starting to dislike this egocentric character I'm into.

Our relation is now not as natural. Topics are dealt with fast. There are short silences. She kindly also does little efforts to keep it alive. Not all my answers are as deep or funny I wish they were. I fear to be boring. And as I feel there's no harmony anymore, my confidence is diminishing.

We have been talking for more than half an hour, but I've become slightly doubtful. What if I had been staying by here side for too long ? What if she'd also like to have a chat with her friends now ? I really hate being the clingy guy. We've already exchanged contact infos, that's time for me to go.

While I'm telling her I'll get back to my seat, I'm struggling to say a proper goodbye. It's kind of abrupt, there's no particular reason for me to suddenly leave her. And she may interpret it as if I haven't been enjoying her company ; this perspective makes me feel awkward. I'm trying hard to tell her in a cool way that we may « team up » tomorrow, for « some adventure » at « some beach ». But the way I'm saying it makes me realize she could interpret it as if I was feeling lonely and looking for friends. I've been loving my solo backpacking trip so far, and the idea of her thinking otherwise instantly kills the last bit of confidence I had left. And while I'm finishing the most confused sentence ever, she looks at me with so much kindness and comprehension that I foresee an unrepairable failure, and my goodbye ends up sounding as sad as a farewell.

Back at my spot, I sit down, motionless, defeated. Damn it, I usually never get that vulnerable, why did it have to be this way at this particular moment? Well, I had a little chance, I screwed up. Truth is I didn't expect she'd affect me that much ; this doesn't happen with the girls I'm used to meet. It's alright, I accept the lesson, and will learn from it.

A moment later, the train hits the final destination. We're all reaching for our bags and stuff. We agree to go for a little beer with Javier. And without really believing they'd be interested, I also politely suggest this idea to Eva. She says they'd first settle down at their flat, then keep me in touch if they feel like it. I'm kind of pessimistic.

To pack my things, I take my time. I don't want to be that stingy guy who coordinates to stick around. Out of the train, I see her glancing at me one last time. I can't help but smile with a mix of politeness and sadness. She answers doing the same.

It's 10 pm. The air is warm, humid. It smells like the sea. The city is a charming old port, the tiny houses there have beige stone walls and reddish tiles. There are little lights everywhere. Lots of people are hanging out at restaurants and bars. The atmosphere is festive.

We're walking down the street toward our hostels. Javier is laughout out loud when I reveal to him the whole train story. « So... are you gonna see her again ? », he asks. I don't think so.

Today is Tuesday. I had been texting with Eva since yesterday. She told me that tonight they'd probably be going out for some drinks on the beach. I was « welcome to join » them, and I could « bring some people along » if I wished to. For sure, I told her I was « in ».

I didn't have anyone to bring, though. Javier had gone away in the morning to some nearby islands, so I said I'd be coming alone.

Today was a hot, sunny day. I've been chilling at the beach all along, walking by the shores, swimming, sunbathing.

Right now, the evening is perfect. It's still warm, the sky is clear, the moon is really big.

She just kept me in touch : they have bought some wine and are about to leave their flat to the city. Although she warns me she'd have no internet there. I try to call her but it doesn't work. She says she may use her friend's phone to reach me later. Alright, let's do that.

The streets are filled with enthusiastic, often fancy-dressed people. All bars and restaurants are full, music is blasting everywhere. I've bought some beers at the shop and I'm looking for a nice panoramic spot by the sea.

Down at the harbour, there is a large and wide dock crowded with people sitting on stone blocks, drinking. These are mostly young people, many different lenguages are spoken and the mood is nice. That's where I'll hang out for now, I guess.

At the end of dock, I'm watching far away toward the horizon. The water is peaceful. I have my earphones on, playing loudly uplifting tracks.

Time goes by. I'm enjoying spending time alone, I feel I can do whatever I want to. I may think about all my favorite things while never being interrupted. I'm lightly grooving to my music, without caring that much about other people around.

It's getting late now, and still no news from the girls. It's okay though, I've got my mind made up. Doubtlessly, I had appeared socially unskilled in the train's last conversation. She probably felt that me joining up solo would be a risky addition in terms of group dynamic. Plus, her two friends certainly wanted to spend some time altogether and avoid having their friend subtracted by some random guy. That's all fair to me, I got it, I don't mind.

At some point however, I decide to leave the dock to go for a little walk around. Otherwise when I'm sitting and drinking for too long I get sleepy.

These sweet vibes got me in a good mood. The perfume of the sea, the tropical atmosphere, the happy people around. I don't need anything more, honestly.

I'm taking the main alley by the hearbour, eastward. It's where all the fanciest bars are situated. All the terraces and alleys are packed with loud people eating, drinking.

I've been walking for not even 100m and some element of the whole display suddenly puzzles me. On a small stone block, I see three girls sitting. They have their back to me, so I get around and pass them by to check their faces. It's them.

I'm glad to bump into them randomly like that, of course. And I'm not even mad they haven't tried harder to contact me. Okay, maybe a slight bit, in the deep of the emotional side of my mind. But on a rational level, I totally get it.

The fact that I had been kinda disregarded somehow eases me down. Now I feel expectations from me are pretty low. I don't have much to lose, nor much to prove. It's a bit of a paradox, but now I don't care that much. I'm just welcoming things as they come. And it feels good.

They appear positively surprised, I greet them all cheerfully. The two other friends are named Hanna and Anna. The meet-up is all benevolent and smooth. They had been sitting down here for a little while, drinking wine from a bottle, but were willing to move around. They agree to go and see that same dock I just came from.

I still have my mind set on Eva, obviously. But I really want her friends not to feel ignored, I sincerely want to connect with them as well. So I'm paying a careful attention to all of them equally, with the same curiosity.

We find a free spot at the end of the dock, which offers a wide panorama on the sea. I'm opening my second beer. I feel we've all quickly found a way to get along. It's natural. I like their openness and simplicity.

The lenguage topic is quite lively. They are teaching me some Finnish while I help them with some French. Hanna knows a whole lot of numbers, and her pronunciation is quite decent.

Beyond the usual classics, I'm feeling like teaching them the essential sentences to to survive in the French hood, just in case. They are enthusiastically practicing three different ways of asking « how is it going ? », gangster-style. I try to persuade them that it's the most useful thing there is.

The conversation is flowing all pleasantly but soon, all of our bottles are dry. We're all on the same page, it would be best to keep on getting hydrated. We'll walk by the eastern shores of the harbour, and see if we can find a nice location for drinking supplies.

While we hit the road altogether, Eva comes right by my side. I'm sensing an early form of magnetism in the air. And I'm glad to see how easy it is to connect with her now. I'm profoundly feeling each thing she means, and it seems to be mutual.

Anna listens to classical music, but for dancing she likes radio hits. We spend a little while talking about music composition with Hanna, she's also into it and uses a different software than mine.

We're passing by some night clubs, and many bars which are all kind of look-a-like to me. It doesn't take us long to settle down at one of the terraces by the sea.

The waiter there argues that for cocktails, it'd be nice to go for the « local experience ». So be it. I'm picking some kind of a Mojito derivative. It's not bad.

We're now discussing bout party traditions worldwide.

To my dismay, I just found out that scandinavians actually don't start at 6pm to finish and go to bed early. That was just a legend.

I'm telling them about the mexican drinking game culture, advocating for their top-notch expertise in that field of research.

The timing feels right to go and try some.We'll just go for that app-based one. Turn by turn, it gives a randomly selected little challenge to one of us. It's quite basic, but it offers a nice playground to learn new things about each other.

I appreciate the girls' enthusiasm to try and do it all fully. Anna demonstrates a rather skilled fluidity in her dancing moves, while the struggle is real between avoiding some forbidden words and remembering not to answer any of Eva's questions.

At some point, I'm selected for the « staring challenge » ag ainst... Eva. I'm immediately ready to go and last forever, while, according to her prompt reaction, she seems to be quite motivated as well. But Hanna foresees the everlasting situation to come, so she adds right away « alright, so the first person to blink loses as well ».

Eventually, this game turns out to be quite rewarding for the most prominent sinners among us. It helps to be knowledgeable in liquor brands, to have been involved in fights already, or other types of improper behaviors.

It's getting late by now. We're about the last people on the terrace. The waiter comes around and tells us the bar is about to close. We'd better be on our way.

I'm standing up, stretching, while talking to Eva. And when I turn and step toward her, she does the same. We end up standing in front of each other in quite an usual short conversation distance. I'm so close to her face I could nearly touch her. We aren't saying in anything special, but all I see is her eyes, wide open, fascinating. I'm out of order again.

Hanna's voice wakes me up. Where shall we go now ?

It's passed midnight but the air is still cool. We're all in a light mood. The idea of chilling a the beach is pleasing everyone.

There's a charming and quiet one I know, but it's by the other side of the harbour, on the western shores. It will be a bit more than an half an hour walk.

Hanna warns us she had been texting to some Finnish friend who'd like to come along. He'd catch us up nearby, at the central alley of the harbour.

We're off in that direction, by the sea. Anna and Hanna are leading the way, and I'm walking beside Eva. I'm with her 100%. And I forgot about the whole group dynamic thing. Little by little, I'm letting the flow take over.

Our meeting point is down a large alley with palm trees on a side. Lots of festive people are passing by. The girls just picked a bench to sit on and wait.

I'm also sitting comfortably, my arms spread on the bench's backrest. She's so close I can feel her thigh subtly touching mine. She's a bit worrying I'd get bored just waiting. I'm telling her « it's all good, I'm all happy here. » As long as she'd be around, I thought, I didn't care that much about what was happening and where.

In some matters, sometimes, I happen to be kind of shy. Especially, when it comes to do the first physical steps. All typical approaches usually seem to me a bit too cliché, too soap-opera style. I find it hard to know the right timing to do the right thing the right way, etc. There's always a probability of unpleasant rejection, and I particularly dislike feeling invasive.

But now, for once, I'm pretty confident. I have the impression I can read her, more or less. How she's feeling, what she wants. And in this moment, I'm sensing rather positive vibrations.

Therefore, all casually, I'm delicately laying my hand on her shoulder. But surprisingly, it feels as if it was the 1000th time I'd be doing that. It's the tiniest thing, the most simple touch. But still, it does light me up inside for a second.

Eventually, the Finnish guy shows up. He has some kind of an indie-artsy-skater-style, if that means anything. Hanna said he was a pianist. He just told me his name but either it was too complicated, either my mind was still somewhere else. Anyway, he takes a few cans of beer from his bag and offers one to each of us. We start talking and he seems like the nicest guy ever, easy-going and chill. In a deep and dark corner of my mind, I can't help but wonder why would Eva like me specifically, among all others. This thought soon vanishes, though.

On our way to the beach, everyone is happy. Anna and Hanna are having an engaging conversation in Finnish with the new guy. And I'm walking behind with Eva.

The alleys start getting way quieter, especially in the area we're going to. The western beaches are kind of less popular, less artificial somehow.

I'm not paying much attention to the surroundings, if we're going the right way or not. I'm just enjoying the walk, her company. I like the lower-than-average tone of her voice, and her subtle Finnish accent. I like the way she listens carefully, all ears.

When I finally look up to check what's up with the other guys ahead, I see our group has enlarged again. Two new guys are now walking along. Getting closer, they greet us. They are both swedish. They seem pretty friendly, cool people. They admit still being a bit tipsy after their night out. They say they'd be glad to join us for our little beach quest.

Soon, there starts a private joke session, scandinavian style. I'm not getting it all, of course, but I sometimes laugh anyway just because it sounds funny.

At some point, the tallest-blond-muscular swedish guy comes around Eva playing it all smooth operator. It's quite obvious he's not indifferent to her. He's doing his little show, but I don't mind.

She's far from falling for it though, I'm not surprised but it's still nice to witness. I'm charmed by her assertiveness, by the way she implicitly dismisses his advances.

We are now reaching the rocky side of the shore. There are cliffs, old small stairways carved in stone, and a lush kind of tropical vegetation.

The night is clear, all so peaceful. The moon is gigantic.

The winding pathways we're going through are pretty narrow. I take her hand. It feels like something normal we had been used to for a while already. We're now getting more comfortable in that double dialogue, between spoken and silent things.

The beach we had been searching for soon appears to us from the distance. As far as I could remember, it was much further away.

It's shaped like a large bay. The shores are made of sand and tiny rocks. It's all calm, we're the only people left.

There's a fresh breeze in the air now, it's kind of late. I think we'll eventually just sit by the ocean and enjoy the view. The girls didn't bring their swimming suits, and I believe I'm the only one with a towel.

Yet, as an evidence, Eva starts taking her clothes off, so do I, so do the others.

The tallest swedish guy hurries to go first. I'm second. The water temperature is survivable. In relative darkness, we have to step carefully among the tiny rocks.

I'm advancing slowly toward the unlimited horizon. And when the sea level reaches my waist, I'm diving in. It's delightful. I'm turning around to lie on my back, looking up to the starry sky. I have an impulsion to swim away from the shore, far. So off I start drifting away. But then I see her, coming along. Despite everything, I'm still genuinely amazed she cares.

Our friends are now quite a long distance from us. We still hear them laughing while splashing water to each other.

The sea level is still below my chest when she stops and stands just in front of me. The moonshine reflects white flickering halos on the calm waves. I didn't know the night could be so bright naturally. I see her face clearly, her hair is wet, waterdrops run on her shoulders. I'm admirative. This makes me recall some cool cinematic scene from a fantasy video game I used to play years ago. Hopefully, no one can read my thoughts.

But then I find her eyes. She is giving me that same magnetic look, inflexible, penetrating.

My thoughts are fading away one by one. No analysis anymore. No judgement. My mind is silent.

The train, the city, our friends, everything feels far appart now. Time is like suspended. The scenery and the sounds become dim, and she's the only one left. Attraction is slowly and inevitably pulling me toward her. When we eventually collide, it feels like a tiny firework inside. Her skin is silky, and a bit cold. She's light, delicate.

Now I'm taking her hand, and lifting it up to invite her for a dance. It makes no sense but it feels just right. She slowly sways round below my arm, amused. The sea is playing its quietest and most hypnotic tune.

We're drifting in circles around each other, floating in every way. My senses are all awaken. There's no need to explain, no need for words, it's all balanced.

Apart from the fresh breeze blowing gently, there are some colder streams swirling underwater. Two seconds away and it's pretty cold, two seconds closer and it's not cold at all.

On the ground however, there are some rather spiky things among rocks. And it really hurts like hell when we step on them. It's as if we were dancing on a minefield. We both find it funny though ; the way we alternate between solemn grace and sudden sparks of agony.

I have no idea how long we had been in the water, but it seems like our friends are now moving back to the beach. We'll catch them up.

In the deep of the night, we're all dripping wet, frozen, yet cheerful.

I see she's shivering, so I'm wrapping her in my towel. I look at her, and we both know it's a whole new paradigm now. Rules have changed. Walls have fallen.

Our feet are slightly bleeding from few tiny wounds, « but it was worth it. »

It's time to head back home. My left foot is severely aching, which causes me to limp a bit while walking. She grabs my arm. We're now leading the way together, through the rocky pathways.

We aren't saying anything particular. Silences don't feel awkward anymore. There's no fear to do too much or not enough. I just know I'm feeling good, in her presence simply.

The swedish guys are sleeping in their boat, which is parked by some dock along the way. We leave them there, saying we'd keep in touch.

Not much further away, we reach our crossroads. It's almost 3am. They'll go back to their flat and me to my hostel, and it's all natural that way. I'm telling to Anna and Hanna it was nice to meet them, while sincerely meaning it. I don't even have the time to think about how to say goodbye to her, she reaches to me for a kiss. One last charming glance, and she turns away for good.

Now I'm the only one left by the harbour's shore, limping around. I'm kind of stunned. I hadn't anticipated any of that.

The night is still clear. The streets are completely desert. I'm taking a deep breath of the sea. In this moment, I don't want or lack anything particular. I'm just glad to be here, to do each little thing coming my way.

0 notes

suallenparker · 8 years ago

Text

Philinda Fanfic: Behind the Scenes, Chapter 5

RATING: T

SPOILER: This is set in a Universe where Phil quit his Tony Stark babysitting duties after the first gig and returned to active field work. So, basically their backstories stay the same until after the first Iron Man Movie.

SUMMARY: After her former partner Phil Coulson almost got killed in action, the traumatized SHIELD agent Melinda May returns to duty. She and Phil go undercover as contestants of the celebrated TV show “Forever Love” to catch a stalker and to trip a traitor.

NOTES: See Chapter 1. I’m sorry this took so long. Life was crazy! On top of it all, the story itself demanded to be replotted – as stories do. *sigh*. But I figured things out and here we are! Thank you all for your support and patience! I hope you enjoy. :)

PREVIOUS | NEXT

o0o

Chapter 5: Taking a walk in which Eric and Diane take a walk

Melinda bit her lower lip as she grabbed the secret cell she had hidden underneath the sink in Diane’s bathroom. In two hours Eric would take Diane on another group date, before that, she wanted some updates.

It was still early, not even seven p.m. After her early morning routine she had taken a shower and had slipped into a blue wrap dress. She would wait to put on heels until she really had too. After the phone call, she’d still have to put on some make up and figure out her hair.

She brushed a strand of wet hair behind her ear as she hit the speed dial for Hill. The only number on that thing. She wished she’d have a line to Phil too, just to check in with him about Diane and Eric. But it was simply too risky. Just one crew member needed to catch them talk on the phone with each other. Not to mention that someone might hear it if one of their two cells would receive a call. They had agreed before to just use them to make calls to the outside.

The phone rang.

Hopefully Hill would have good news.

Finally, Hill picked up, “May?”

“Anything new?”

Hill sighed. “Broke into his apartment and searched it. Only weird thing was a postcard of a big octopus from the New York Aquarium. It was stamped here in New York, no note on the back, just Dickface’s address. Not sure what it means yet. I also found a private laptop. I have an outside source breaking into that one.”

Melinda pulled her brows together. “What outside source?”

“Calls herself Skye. She is one of those Rising Tide hacktivists. Almost found one of our servers once. Mistrusts the government. Thinks we’re hiding things from the public.” There was a smile in Hill’s voice. She was definitely impressed. Melinda didn’t have much to do with SHIELD’s online protection but she knew that all their servers were deeply hidden in the dark net.

“So you have a weird postcard and a paranoid hacktivist working on a laptop that might or might not hold information.”

“It definitely holds something. And I seriously doubt Dickface’s the type of guy who protects his porn with four layers of protective code. Skye was very impressed with it. Asked all sorts of annoying questions.”

Figures. “What did you tell her?”

“That I stole it from a secret agent.” There was that smile in Hill’s voice again. “She’s smart. I might make her a job offer once this is over.”

“Has she found anything yet?”

“She cracked two of the four layers without blowing up the laptop.”

“So no.”

Silence.

Melinda sighed heavily. “I could speed things up.”

“No punching him yet, May!”

“I really want to hurt him.” That bastard. That dickface!

“Same here.” Hill took a breath. “How are things on your end?” she asked.

“Nobody sticks out yet. Javier, the assistant producer responsible for Diane, is a slime ball, but I don’t think he is the stalker. Dickface is still doing background work.” That stinking worm. Dickface really suited him! But he wasn’t the only reason they were here … “Maggie is busy producing us all, especially Phil,” she added. “She’s very impressive.” She really was! “She’s doing ok, Hill. She’s handling things.”

That was as much reassurance as she could offer.

Hill exhaled. “Thank you.”

Of course. Everyone worried about their loved ones, right? And it was hard enough when you got to be close enough to actually protect them. Having to be away from her sister must be hard on Hill.

“I better go,” Melinda said. It was best to keep those calls as brief as possible.

“Call me when you can.”

“Will do!”

“And …”

… Look out for Maggie? “Will do that too.”

o0o

His face hurt from smiling too much. His head hurt too. Third week and he just wrapped up his second group date; half a day of having to split his time between five beautiful and amazing women, knowing fully well that the best he had to offer them all was lies.

And the one he was being truthful with better never believed him or he might lose her.

God, this was a mess!

It smelled like paint. For this shoot, Maggie had seated him on a stool next to a cleverly placed easel with a blank canvas on it.

Almost five hours ago he and seven of the women had arrived at this art school for this week’s group date. Of course Maggie and parts of the film crew had followed them.

It had been a long day, not that he was allowed to show it. He straightened his back and smiled at Maggie who kneeled next to the camera. The camera woman who had captured his moments with Melinda in the garden that first day stood behind it. Her name was Rebecca, as Garrett had found out. And she was new. No priors, nothing weird in her social media. But still. She was new.

“Now that we in our third week, how do you feel?” Maggie asked. “Do you still believe you’ll find your bride with us?”

“More convinced than ever!” Phil smiled brightly. “The women …” He shook his head in happy disbelief. “They’re all just breath taking.”

“You really had a moment there with Diane. Tell me what you two did.”

“Diane and I painted a painting together. Splashing paint around was really fun! I haven’t done this since school, I think. She really has a great eye for color.” The painting still turned out ugly, but the light yellow and green tones on the dark blue ground had looked like flowers by night. Or something else made of splashes of paint. One drop of paint had hit Melinda’s left jawline. He had wiped it away and she had laughed …

“Could you see yourself falling in love with her?” Maggie asked.

“Yes.” He already was. He fell in love with her every day, ever since they met. How pathetic was that? But Eric would get a happy end so Phil kept his hopeful smile planted on his face. “I could easily see myself fall in love with Diane.” He looked straight at Maggie. “I could see myself marrying her.”

Maggie tilted her head. “But you gave the group date rose to Anisa.”

“Anisa is a stunning woman!” Phil said.

The camera shook.

He and Maggie both looked at Rebecca, who shrugged. “Sorry, I had to sneeze.”

Maggie raised a brow. “Next time just step away from the camera.”

Rebecca pressed her lips together and nodded before she vanished behind the camera again.

Maggie focused back on Phil; “You were telling us about Anisa, Eric.”

“Anisa and I experimented with paints and mixed different colors,” he said and went back to that happy smile that hurt his cheeks. “We talked about sports. We both love Brazilian Jiu-Jitzu. Maybe we’ll find time to go a few rounds someday.”

o0o

Six more hours and he would get to send away another woman. This time it would be Abigail Hopper, a lawyer from Detroit. She had an eight year old daughter at home. Divorced for three years. Last thing she needed was to fall in love with an illusion. Last thing anyone of those woman needed was to fall in love with Eric.

The background checks had helped him make his decisions so far. The most vulnerable ones first. The one with the dead husband. The one who had just lost her mother to cancer, the one with the two year old baby at home.

His rejection had hurt them, he had seen it on their faces whenever he said goodbye, but this was the best he could do.

And tonight he would send Abigail home to her child.

But first he had to make a call. He had maybe ten minutes before he would have to leave his room and step underneath the camera lights again.

His fist clenched as soon as Garrett picked up.

“Kissed anyone yet?” his partner asked.

What a jerk. “We’re in week three.”

“Exactly!”

God, he wanted to punch him! Some of the women had given him clear signals, Phoebe, a pilot with a love for candy had even tried to kiss him on their one on one date yesterday, but he had told her that he’d rather take it slow.

“Coulson, you know it’s okay to have fun like once every two years, right?”

Yeah, because deceiving people was such a blast!

“Does your arm still hurt?” Now Garrett’s voice was softer. Filled with worry.

Phil just wanted to punch him harder. “It’s not that.”

“It’s about May isn’t it?” Garrett asked. “You worry about her?”

He hated how good Garrett knew him. “I worry about all the women. I hate lying.”

“Of course you do.” Garrett sighed. “I’m a jerk sometimes, I’m sorry partner. I’m just so bored.”

“It’s okay.” Phil gave his best to sound placable. “Found anything new about our stalker?”

“Nope. The Forever Love team takes their vetting seriously. Their research is almost as good as ours! Couldn’t find anything new and interesting about any of the contestants.”

“Anything about the crew?”

“i still have to check through some people’s finances but nothing yet.”

Phil waited.

“Think you’ll be okay to go through this to the end?”

“That’s the job.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Garrett could be such a good friend … Phil pressed his lips together. Damn him for that especially. “May and I will be fine,” he said. “But the other women … They don’t know this is all fake. This will hurt them.”

“Sometimes we just have to lie for the greater good, right?”

“Right.”Stopping Nazis and catching a stalker were good reasons, right?

Someone knocked against Phil’s door.

“I have to go,” he said and hung up. The shorter the phone calls with Garrett, the better. Bless whomever stood in front of his door.

While he put the cell back into its hiding place beneath a loose board underneath the bed, it knocked again. Louder this time.

“Coming,” he called. Not five seconds later he opened the door. “Maggie?”

She wore dark jeans and a black, loose fitted, silky blouse. “Fifteen more minutes before we start,” she said. “May I come in?”

He nodded and opened the door wider.

She closed the door behind herself and looked at him. “We do good here, you know?”

“Excuse me?”

“This show. It’s not just a circus.” She snorted. “Believe me, I know it’s a circus! But it’s so much more. We help people to connect. We help people find love. We could help you too.”

Oh my God, was she seriously trying to play him? “Excuse me?”

“Just because the story for the show has to be set, yours doesn’t have to. You have real chemistry with those women, Phil.”

Yes, she definitely tried to play him. He grinned. “You’re really good!”

She raised a brow.

He chuckled and shook his head. “Producing is definitely the right job for you. I always thought Hill was good at manipulating people but you … You’re almost on Nat’s level.”

“Of course I’m doing my job,” she said and tilted her head. “Doesn’t mean I’m lying.”

“Every day, whenever I talk to those women, I lie. How is that a base for a relationship?”

“Nobody can lie all the time. Yes, they don’t have all the facts, but I’ve seen you with them. You give them as much truth and dignity as possible.” She sighed and patted his arm. Like he hadn’t seen that move before.

“I’m not guaranteeing you’ll find love,” she added. “I just want you to consider that you might.”

o0o

Again, it was Rebecca who followed them with a camera when Melinda led Phil into the garden for some privacy two hours later.

After the women had pulled at him to get a few moments with him alone, he was glad that it was now just him and Melinda. Well, and Rebecca.

But Rebecca and her camera were the only reason Melinda was holding his hand right now, so he happily accepted their company.

Melinda squeezed his hand and his heart skipped a beat. The way she looked at him made him catch his breath. As selfish and as self destructive as it might be, he longed to kiss her. If this mission would last long enough, Eric would get to kiss Diane … But they weren’t there yet.

For now, Melinda pulled up her shoulders slightly. She had beautiful shoulders. The green, fitted cocktail dress she wore tonight left her shoulders exposed. A thin necklace with a little diamond accented her collar bones and thanks to the black heels she wore, she was almost as tall as him.

“I’m in this for you,” she said and swallowed. “I mean I …” She shrugged.

Just for once he wanted her to look at him like that in real life. Like he had something she wanted. Like he was somebody she wanted. All he could do now was to stare back at her.

“I know I’m sometimes distanced and that I can be standoffish and cold but I’m here because of you.” She squeezed his hand again. “I’m here because I want to get to know you.”

Damn, he wanted to kiss her. “You’re not cold,” he said.

Her eyes widened.

Now he squeezed her hand. “And you’re not standoffish. You’re a badass. And I can wait for you to lose distance.” His heart was racing. “You’re worth every wait.”

o0o

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