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Chapter 5
Eric
This has been the longest damn week of my life. Every hour ticks by, slow and torturous, as if the universe itself is moving at turtle speed as I wait for my weekend date with Eve. The anticipation is chewing away at me with the subtlety of a jackhammer. I didn't expect anyone to ever get under my skin like this, but fuck, here we are.
By Wednesday, I’m climbing the fucking walls. I can't focus on the screenplay I’m writing, and every little thing seems to find a way to remind me of her. It's more than just her wild red hair or her eyes that seem to have a twinkle of amusement hinting at whatever smartass comment she’s about to make with that sultry voice of hers. I’ve been hit by Cupid’s arrow, laced with a heavy dose of irony. My fucking solitary life is coming to an end and I couldn’t be happier.
To hell with it. My thumb hovers over my phone screen before I cave, firing off a quick text to her. It's supposed to be casual and not too eager. I tell myself I'm just checking in, but we both know that's not the whole story.
Me
How’s your week going?
The response comes back sooner than I expect with her same dry wit threaded through every syllable. Eve’s got a knack for leaving me on the edge, waiting to see what she'll toss back my way.
Little Siren
Great. I don’t want it to ever end. I hope the weekend never comes.
Her response makes me chuckle, appreciating the way she loves to get under my skin. God, I want to see her sass in action, not just through the safety of a screen. I fire back, fingers dancing over the screen.
Me
You’re begging for me to turn your ass red.
There’s a pause, and then the phone buzzes in my hand.
Little Siren
I’m game. If you think you can handle me, bring it on.
Her teasing winds me tighter. The banter is both a relief and a new kind of torture, ramping up the magnetic pull between us.
I feel my pulse tick up a notch, and a part of me is already reliving the few short hours I spent with her. The thought of showing her my world, free from the glittering façade of Hollywood, thrills me more than I care to admit. I’ve got so many ideas for how I want to spend those two days together, getting to know each other beyond the playful veneer.
Me
I plan to.
It’s a little enticement intended to keep her on the edge until I can finally sweep her off her feet this weekend.
What is it about this woman that has me acting like a giddy fool? I scoff at myself, recalling a time when I was all about the business, no-nonsense, keep-your-head-down-and-power-through-the-bullshit kind of life. But Eve’s shattered that carefully constructed state of mind with nothing more than a smirk and a challenge in her eye, and I find myself wanting more.
I slip my phone back into my pocket, feeling the comfort of her words nestled against the dramatic rush of a week that's drawing closer to what I know will be one hell of a weekend. It's a promise and a dare wrapped into one—something intoxicating in its simplicity and thrilling in its implication.
Whatever comes, I know it won’t be dull. Not with Eve by my side, ready to explore what’s happening between us. The hours may still drag, but the wait will be worth it. She’s a flame, and I’m craving the burn, all fucking in with her. The game is on.
We spend the rest of the week getting to know each other over text and with nightly calls.
Finally, the long, torturous week drags its ass across the finish line. My heart pounds as I pull into the parking lot behind Eve’s art gallery. When she told me she lives in an apartment above the gallery, I started to worry about her safety. To ease my mind, I called a friend of mine and arranged to have extra cameras and a more advanced alarm system installed when we get back from our trip.
I step out of the car, and I’m embarrassed to say my goddamn palms are sweaty. I’ve got big plans for my siren this weekend.
I walk up to the front entrance, adjusting my dark sunglasses on my face. The late afternoon crowd on Main Street is thinning as the work week comes to an end.
As I stride toward the entrance, I settle into my grumpy persona, but the truth is, I can hardly contain my excitement. I push open the door, and my senses are immediately engulfed by the vibrant energy of the gallery. Paintings pulsate with life, colors explode across the walls, and the atmosphere hums with creativity.
“You’re early!” Eve calls out, popping her head out from the back room. She’s wearing a fitted black dress that hugs her curves in all the right places, and my breath catches in my throat. Damn, she looks gorgeous. The way her smile lights up the room drives all the remaining tension from my frame.
