Chapter 4 - Becca - I’m the One Who Does the Touching
Ipulled into the drive at Alex’s new place, not quite half an hour after we got off the phone. After the week I’ve had, it didn’t take much for me to agree to Alex’s invite to dinner. Especially after she mentioned that Johnny would be here. I’ve been reminding myself not to act desperate the entire drive over here. To Connor’s house.
I still can’t believe Connor wound up being Alex’s mystery client. If that isn’t some sort of cosmic sign they should be together, then I don’t know what is.
I’m keeping the moving boxes in my car just in case, though. Alex has bad luck with boyfriends cheating and forcing her to move in a hurry, so I’ve been keeping an emergency box stash in my car for a while. Well, boxes and the bat I started keeping in there for revenge on said cheating boyfriends. I hope Connor doesn’t turn out to be one of them, but it never hurts to be ready.
I’ve prepared myself for this dinner by wearing long sleeves. I don’t know if these guys will ask questions, but it’s usually easier on everyone if I keep covered up. I learned that, at least, from my mom. She hates looking at my arms, and she doesn’t hesitate to tell me if I ever make the mistake of wearing short sleeves in her presence. Which I just so happened to do last weekend after that disaster of a wedding that I didn’t end up shooting.
I was so hot when I changed out of my suit that I threw on shorts and a tank before I picked up lunch and went over to her place. It was like she couldn’t even look at me, the disgust on her face evident. For someone who thinks the accident was her fault, she sure has issues with looking at the results of her actions. And it’s not even that obvious anymore, not since I’ve had my tattoos done. They do a great job disguising things, unless I’m in a certain light. But with mom, every light is that light. No wonder I try to hide my hideousness from everyone.
She hasn’t let me forget that mistake for the past week, either. Calling me every day, asking if I did it on purpose to make her feel bad for the accident. Blaming me for people thinking she’s a terrible parent. Saying the accident is the reason my dad left us all those years ago. Telling me again how lucky I am that she stayed and took care of me. That other parents would have put me into foster care rather than deal with the issues the accident caused.
That woman is bad for my self-esteem. The therapists that I’ve seen off and on over the years assure me that none of it is my fault, but my mother’s voice in my head is too loud. One day I will set proper boundaries with her, but I’m not ready yet.
I don’t know if I ever will be.
Pushing thoughts of mom and therapists and scars aside, I take a deep breath and get out of my car. These guys won’t even see my arms, so I don’t need to worry about that tonight. I repeat that to myself as I walk to the door and ring the bell, only stopping my internal monologue when the door flies open to reveal none other than Johnny.
I jump a little, surprised to see him at the door. I was hoping to see him tonight, but I wasn’t expecting him to be the first person I would see.
The moments pass in a blur, with Johnny attempting to grab my hand and me pulling away from him abruptly. I can’t let him feel my scars, or he’ll never look at me the same again. I’ll get that combination of pity and disgust that I’ve seen more times than I care to remember, and I can’t bear to have that happen tonight.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I just… that was… Sorry,” Johnny apologizes, the hurt shining from his eyes.
“Oh, no. It’s OK. It’s just, um… I’m just not a big fan of having my arms touched. It’s not you. I was hoping I’d see you tonight, actually.” His eyes light up immediately, my words having their intended effect.
Johnny says something about phone numbers and he passes his phone over, I guess for me to put my number in. I wish I knew for certain, but I was too busy watching his lips as he spoke, wondering how soft they were. They look soft. He smiles, waiting for me to add my phone number, and the little heart he has tattooed high on his left cheekbone crinkles with the smile lines. His smile reaches his light brown eyes, doing funny things to my insides.
“Can I touch your face? Your hair? Your lips?” he breathes.
My chest erupts in tingles as I nod frantically and grab his shirt to pull him against me. So much for not acting desperate. The only way I could seem more desperate would be if I’d jumped him as soon as he opened the door.
At least I said hello first.
He teases me, brushing his lips against mine, and my body chases the kiss, pushing my lips closer even as I pull him against me. I keep my fists wrapped in his shirt, not trusting my hands to behave themselves if they get the chance to feel his chest. As it is, the backs of my hands are burning with the feel of his muscles pressing against them.
Fuck it.
I wrap my arms around his waist and pull him to me, forcing our bodies closer. Johnny grinds his body against me, pushing his erection against my hip. I crush him closer, deepening the kiss, kneading the muscles in his back as I furiously attempt to touch every inch within my reach. Johnny’s hands stay in my hair, tilting my head this way and that, his lips and tongue exploring my own with a reverence I’ve never experienced. He has even tried to move his hands lower, and that alone fills me with ravenous desire. I can feel the liquid heat pooling in my panties, making me ready, inviting him in.
Just as I’m about to suggest that we leave and continue this elsewhere, Johnny pulls back and a disappointed groan escapes him. He kisses me softly and lets me go.
“That was so much more than I imagined it would be,” he says, tilting forward and kissing me again just as the door opens.
“Oh, hey, guys. Am I late?”
“Nope,” Johnny answers the woman who I recognize as having been at the meet and greet last week. “You’re right on time. Have you met Becca? Becca, this is Denise, the band’s manager. Becca is Alex’s best friend, and she was also the photographer after the show last week.”
“Yes, hi.” I compose myself enough to make conversation. “We spoke last week, I think.”
“Yes, we did. I saw some of the pictures the radio station posted. You made the guys look so good. Wholesome, even. I was shocked.” Denise laughs. “You have a gift. No wonder the station called you for this assignment. Have you ever thought of working in image management? You could really help some of the more deplorable celebrities get back into the public’s good graces.”
It’s my turn to laugh. “I hadn’t ever thought of that, honestly. I’m not sure I’d be comfortable participating in that level of deception. Some of those celebs deserve the shit they get.”
“Ha! You’ve got that right.”
We enter the kitchen together, and Alex greets us right away. She talks to Denise a little, since it’s the first time they’ve had a real chance to talk since the interview for the position. From what Alex said, Denise had to run off and take care of something this morning before they could really say much.
