But it doesn’t. Our personalities may contrast, but Connor is exactly what I need. He’s the salt to my pepper, the light to my dark, the calm to my storm.
The only thing that’s got me a little on edge is that I have no clue whether he feels the same way about me as I do about him. Okay, so there are some clues. Like the fact that he’s here, surrounded by crazed comic fans in the middle of autograph alley, the last place on earth he’d choose to be voluntarily.
For all I know, that could be his way of thanking me for last night’s blow job. It doesn’t necessarily mean he’s ready for any kind of commitment. He’s still fresh off his break up with Giselle. Then there’s his parent’s train wreck of a marriage. There’s no way that hasn’t messed him up. Maybe he’s sworn off serious relationships altogether.
But that doesn’t seem like the Connor I’ve been living and sleeping with. The one who gives me foot rubs and leaves little notes for me everywhere and lets me pick the movie for our Netflix and chill nights.
Although that last one’s probably not such a hardship. The guy seems to enjoy chick flicks as much as I do.
When the line of autograph seekers finally thins out, he chucks his empty water bottle into a recycling bin and makes his way over to me.
“Hey,” he says, his eyes flashing as they drift down to my chest then back to meet mine. “Nice outfit.”
My heart does somersaults in my rib cage. I can’t help it when he looks at me like that. He’s got the whole Tyra Banks smizing thing down pat, even though I’d bet my grandmother’s false teeth he’s never seen an episode ofAmerica’s Next Top Model. Chick flicks: yes. Reality TV: no, unless it’s some sort of educational program, like the stuff they show on Nat Geo or the History Channel.
“You, too.” I take in his crisp white polo and neatly pressed khakis. “Who are you supposed to be? Jake from State Farm?”
“His shirt is red.” His tone is mildly accusing, but any bite is undercut by the smizing. “No one told me I was supposed to dress up.”
“Not everyone’s in costume. I didn’t think that would be your scene.”
He bends down, bracing his hands on the table, and lowers his voice. “It’s not. I’m just messing with you.”
I raise myself up slightly and lean in so we’re almost nose to nose. Not quite kissing, but close enough that I can feel the heat of his breath on my cheek. “I know.”
“Is this guy bothering you?” Steve, one of the volunteers assigned to our table, asks from over my shoulder.
Way not to read the room, buddy.
I lower myself back into my chair and give the clueless volunteer a reassuring smile.
“No, he’s not. This is my boyfriend, Connor.”Boyfriend. My heart flip-flops again. “Is it okay if he waits back here with me while I sign these last few autographs?”
Steve shrugs. “Fine by me. As long as he’s not in the way.”
He ushers Connor into the booth, and I make some quick introductions to my cast mates and the production assistant who’s been shepherding us around all day. Steve rustles up a stool from somewhere, and Connor sits quietly in the back of the booth playing a game on his phone until I’m done signing.
“Ready to head out?” I ask, stooping to drag the duffel bag with my street clothes out from under the table. So much for the glamorous life of an almost famous actress.
He hops off the stool and stuffs his phone in his back pocket. “Would you hate me if I said I’ve been ready since I got here?”
“No. Because you stayed anyway. For me.”
I go up on tiptoe to give him a quick kiss, earning me a dirty look from Steve. I’m not sure what his problem is. Probably has tickets to one of the big after parties, and our PDA is holding him up.
Sorry, not sorry Steverino. I’m not apologizing for kissing the man I’m 99.9 percent certain I love.
“Yeah, I stayed for you.” Connor tugs on a stray curl that has escaped from my ponytail. “And for the five-dollar water.”
I playfully smack his hand away and hoist my duffel bag onto my shoulder. “I have to change. Then we can go.”
“Damn.” He snakes his arms around me and pulls me close so he can whisper low and sexy in my ear. “I was hoping they’d let you keep the costume for the night.”
Steve’s really glaring at us now, but he’ll have to wait. It won’t kill him.
I reach up and pat Connor’s cheek. “Dirty boy.”
“Are you complaining?” he asks, a teasing smile lifting the corners of his mouth.
