I think back on my lackluster experiences with random celebrities and one-night stands.
About four years ago, I decided it wasn’t worth it: I had much more fun with a vibrator than I ever had with a man. I have to admit, I thought that, just like soulmates and toilet papering houses, amazing sex lives and girlfriends trading stories were some kind of myth, a fake pastime movies and shows made up.
But that suddenly feels unbearably embarrassing, so instead, I move on with the task at hand, choosing the lesser of two evils.
“Aren’t we on a time crunch?” Grabbing the edge of the roll, I toss it up. The roll moves to the roof and then pauses for a moment.
“Jesus, Willa, you’ve got a freaking arm on you,” Hallie says with a laugh.
“I take Pilates classes five times a week and strength train twice a week,” I say offhandedly.
“Well, if the music thing ever stops working for you, consider a career in softball.” We watch as the roll slowly moves again, rolling back down and leaving a long line of toilet paper. When it falls back to the ground, I can’t say I don’t feel a bit of a thrill at the way it looks.
It’s going to be a huge mess for Leo to clean up, but it’s the least he deserves. I mean, if he’s going to accuse me of being trouble, I might as well live up to the accusation.
I’m giggling as I pick up the roll and throw it again, and then again, and again, until the house and surrounding property are absolutelycoveredin the stuff.
“Shit,” Hallie says as I finish my last roll. Everything is covered in thin strands of white paper, and I keep giggling to myself as I look around.
I can’t even begin to remember the last time I had so much fun.
“Shit?” I ask, turning toward where she is, but I don’t need her to explain, not when I can see pinpricks of light in the distance, quickly getting larger. I’m frozen for a moment before I realize a pair of headlights is approaching, moving up the driveway toward us.
“Go, go, go!” Hallie says loudly, waving her hand toward the UTV at the edge of the woods, and it feels like some kind of military drama. My heart drops and my pulse races as I realize what’s happening: Leo is back, and he’s about to catch us in the act.
I bend, scooping up the trash of empty toilet paper rolls, but Hallie shakes her head and starts running. “No! Leave them! Go!”
I don’t question her, not as the light begins to move up and over the driveway, illuminating my legs. “Ahh!” I shout as if it’sa sci-fi movie, with the light a laser. That’s when I start running in earnest. Nat is a few feet ahead of me, and I’m moving quickly and closing in on her when I drop my phone.
“No!” I shout, moving back to grab it.
“Willa!” Nat yells, pausing to look back at me.
“Go on without me!” I yell dramatically. If my pulse weren’t pounding a million miles a minute, I might laugh at how bananas this is. But instead, I wave towards her. “I’ll catch up!” She nods, then turns back towards the woods, sprinting towards the UTV.
“Hallie! Start her up!” Nat yells.
“What the fuck is going on here?” Leo calls from a distance, keys jangling as he jogs toward us.
I reach for my phone and start back toward where Hallie is sliding into the UTV seat and starting the engine, Nat just a few feet away from freedom. I start moving again, forcing my legs to pump harder, to go as fast as I can, but suddenly, I’m not moving.
Suddenly, the distance between the UTV and me is no longer lessening because a hand has grabbed my wrist, and I’m being pulled backward, into a brick wall.
No, not a brick wall.
A chest. A hard chest. A heaving chest. My hand slams into it as I stumble a bit, and on instinct, my head tips back. I meet Leo’s eyes, and my breath catches in my lungs.
I’m tall.
Not crazy tall, not six feet or even five-ten. Just five eight, but considering women in Hollywood tend to be cute and petite, considering the average height is much shorter, it’s rare that I have to tip my head back to look at someone. I remember that on my second fake date, the guy had to wear lifts to be taller than me in my heels for red carpet appearances.
But in this moment, I find myself thinking I wouldn’t have that issue with Leo.
No, it wouldn’t be a problem, because Leo towers over me, and I fight the urge to ask him how tall he is. I bet I could wear six-inch heels and still not be taller than him.
It’s not something I should be focusing on, especially not with the adrenaline coursing through me or the angry look on his face, but it’s all I can think of. That, and the way his chest is hard and warm beneath my hand.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he rumbles. I stare at him, shocked into silence as I take in his face. It’s confused and angry and so fucking handsome that I can’t focus. His arm burns a line along my lower back, and my lungs are panting, though I don’t know if it’s from the way he’s looking at me or the run or the adrenaline coursing through me,
