20.
February 23rd, 2020
“No! That’s my ‘OMG-what-the-hell-is-even-this-face-?’ angle. I prefer the left,” Zaira said, and then blinked up at me.
I couldn’t help but laugh at her comment. “What are you made of, you weird, adorable woman?”
She clicked her tongue. “Flesh and bones. Oh, and gas.”
I chuckled. “You weren’t meant to answer my question.”
“I couldn’t leave it hanging in the air, either.” Her expression was serious, but her eyes – they were telling me a very different story.
We were sitting on my rooftop couch, ready to take our first official selfie so we could announce ourselves to the world. Weird, I know, but that’s Hollywood for you. It’s glamorous, sure, but it’s also so fucking staged, that all you wanna do is barf in its dazzling, ever-glowing face. But hey, I loved my job, so a little barf every once in a while was doable.
Right?
Right.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she said, “because when you do, then all I wanna do is pull you by that growing scruff of yours and kiss you until you pass out.”
I just couldnotwith that woman.
Zaira was a dynamite – ticking and exploding as she went. She just couldn’t help being sassy and quirky.
“Come here.” I pulled her close and kissed her once. “You’re a rare species, you know that?”
The corners of her mouth turned up. “Yes…I think.”
I grinned and shook my head. “Ready to take that selfie?”
She sighed. “Yeah.”
“You’ll do great, babe,” I told her. “Just be yourself, and I’m sure people will go crazy for you. I know I am.”
She laughed airily. “How corny of you.”
I winked at her. “Yup.”
She placed a hand on the center of my chest and kissed my chin. “Let’s do this.”
With a smile, I positioned my phone a little above my face angle, and then tapped on the camera app. “Look at me, Zaira.”
She did, and when I grinned at her, she did the same.
I snapped a photo, and was about to check if it was good enough, when she leaned in, placed her soft fingers on my jaw, and kissed me.
I accidentally hit the shutter button, and then almost dropped my phone when Zaira opened her mouth and ran the tip of her tongue over the seam of my upper lip.
“Jesus, woman.” I grabbed her by the waist and kissed her as hard as I could, because damn, she tasted so good. “You make me hot.”
She smiled against my lips and pulled me closer by the collar of my dress shirt. “I know.”
I chuckled, and kissed her a final time before moving back. “I hate to say this, but we should wait in on this and post the selfie before Shane goes all John Rambo on us.”
She laughed and nodded, and God, the gentle bruises around her mouth – curtesy of my facial hair – made me wanna beat my chest like fucking King Kong.
Call me cliché if you wanna.
