Page 90 of Behind the Camera


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Myhottest things I’ve done in lifelist is short, almost nonexistent, if I’m being honest, but that video call takes the fucking cake. It’s the most spontaneous I’ve ever been. I’ve replayed it over and over again in my head. I’ve tried to commit it to memory, because I don’t want to forget a single second.

I can still hear her moans and the way she said my name mid-orgasm. I can still see her wrist moving in a slow, lazy circle as she ran that vibrator up every inch of her body.

I didn’t know I could be jealous of a sex toy for fuck’s sake, but I was. Knowing it got to touch her while I had to watch idly from the sidelines was torture.

I’m going out of my fucking mind. The only way to put myself out of this misery is to jerk off, and every thought I have when my hand is wrapped around my dick is so depraved, I’m embarrassed to take the seat next to her.

We’ve been around each other plenty this week. We’ve had dinner with June every night and worked in tandem to get hertucked into bed. There was co-narrating JB’s favorite story as she drifted off to sleep, and washing and drying pots and pans like a team.

But now we have to sit side-by-side and chat about our day like I haven’t admired her cunt and she hasn’t seen my dick.

It’s totally fucking fine.

“Why are you standing there?” Maven asks, and she looks up at me from the couch. The smile she’s been wearing all night dips into a frown. Little creases form across her forehead, and I have the urge to smooth them out with my thumb. “Is everything okay?”

“Peachy,” I answer as I hand her a beer. “How was your day?”

“June and I went to the neighborhood Harvest Festival and ate kettle corn until our stomachs hurt. She won’t stop talking about Halloween and what costumes she wants to wear.”

“What does she want to do? Last year we were princesses—Mav and Reid dressed up and came with us, too. The year before we did Peppa Pig.”

“Stop. All three of you wore princess dresses?”

“Is there any other way to do it?” I pull out my phone and toss it to her. “Password is 5863. There’s a whole album for Halloween.”

“Oh mygod. You’re wearing a wig. That is a serious commitment.”

“You can’t walk around in a sparkly dress and not wear a wig, Maven.”

“Sorry. I don’t know the Halloween protocol around here. Pretty sure I was at the bars last year to celebrate the holiday.”

“Do you want to join us?” I ask, and I don’t know why I didn’t consider that she might already have plans with someone other than me and my four-year-old kid. “We can pick out another group costume. We can all go as Barbies or something.”

“Oh.” Maven dips her chin, and that smile is back. “As long as I’m not intruding.”

“You’re not. I promise.”

“Okay. Then, yes, I’d love to join you.” She motions to the couch. “Are you going to stand all night?”

“No.” I take a seat at the far end of the sofa, and there’s enough distance between us to be respectable to a fucking priest. “Just taking my time.”

“What’s the topic of conversation tonight?”

You, naked in my bed, and how we can make that happen without someone losing their job.

I shrug. “It’s your turn to pick. Two weeks ago, I rambled for thirty minutes about fantasy football draft positions, and you fell asleep. I’m not making that mistake again.”

“It wasn’t you. While your speech about why the kicker’s field goal distance to awarded points ratio was passionate, it was my own fault. I was exhausted.”

“I appreciate you looking out for my ego, Mae. Pick something good, please. Practice was brutal again today, and if you start talking about the difference between shades of chalk, I’m going to be out in two minutes.”

“Okay. Something good.” She stretches out her legs and rests them in my lap, just like she always does. There’s hesitancy in her voice, and I brace myself. “Am I allowed to ask about June’s mom?”

Her question catches me off guard.

It’s a conversation I always find a way to dance around. No one knows the real story—not even Maverick and Reid—and I’ve been content to keep it that way.

But I’ve already shown Maven all these other parts of me, and this feels like the last thing that’s missing. The final puzzle piece, and I want her to have it.

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