I was freaked out.
“And don’t watch this series. You don’t want to see it.” He shook his head. “Trust me on that.”
I nodded. “She’s involved with sex scenes?”
Nate smiled. “She is. And they’re hot.”
Fear fizzed up my spine. “Have you jacked off to her?”
Nate swallowed. “Pleading the fifth.”
“You realise we’re not in America, and England doesn’t have the fifth amendment.” I squinted at him.
Nate’s nod was slow. “I’ve got all that, pretty boy. Let me phrase it another way: you don’t want to ask questions about that. If the rest of the team find out about you and Otter, they’ll make a few comments. Be prepared for that, Ry.
“They won’t find out.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because it isn’t like that. It’s a hook up. Not a relationship.” It wasn’t, was it? We didn’t make small talk about our lives because we didn’t know anything about them, only I wasn’t sure that was true. We’d talked about our families, interests, things that were vague enough to still make it an escape from real life. Only I wasn’t sure if was right about it being just a hook-up. If that was all it was, I wouldn’t have cared if she’d given me a fake number.
I had cared. A lot.
Nate looked thoughtful. “Fine. I believe you. So you can handle what people will say when they find out?”
“They won’t find out.” There was no reason for anyone to know I was hooking up with someone, let alone who she was.
“Fine. Just make sure you have a back up plan. You know, just in case.” He picked up his glass again. “Let’s go and watch something shitty that doesn’t have your girlfriend in.”
“She’s not my girlfriend.”
“Yeah, whatever.”
A taxi picked Nate up just before midnight, both of us having the sense to not finish off all the vodka, something that younger members of the team would definitely not have done.
Otter had sent me a message, telling me to video call her when I was ready and it didn’t matter how late. I stared at it for a few minutes, wondering whether I should stop this now. Things made sense – the way she’d used her hair to keep herself hidden, how she’d managed to blend in. She hadn’t wanted to be recognised by anyone.
Like me.
I pressed call and waited. All kinds of anticipation wrangled through my nervous system; too many questions played around my brain. I had to say I knew who she was. I had to tell her my own identity – because we’d both kept a secret and it wouldn’t be fair to blame her.
She answered, the screen blurred at first.
“Ryan! I thought it would be too late!” Her hair was lose about her shoulders and her face was clear of any make-up. She didn’t look like a Hollywood princess. She looked like Otter.
I found myself smiling.
“Never too late.” Because it wasn’t. “How was your day?” I wanted to take the question back because it sounded far too domesticated, far too much like this wasn’t a hook up.
“Busy. I didn’t stop until about an hour ago. We ended up, you know,” she shrugged. “Working late.”
I stayed quiet. I had never been very good at keeping something in that was bothering me, not when I’d made my mind up to do something.
“What’s up, Ry?” Her eyes seemed impossibly bigger.
I shook my head and swallowed. “A friend came round tonight. He wanted to watch an episode of a TV series he was binge watching.”
“Oh. What show was it?” She knew what I was going to say. “Was there a really talented actress in it?”
