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Finally, he shrugs and looks away. “I wanted to surprise you. I know I’m seeing the real Autumn when you’re caught off-guard. Not the actress.”
I have to physically stop myself from jerking from the sting of his words. I turn my gaze away from him, tears burning my eyes. It isn’t like I don’t know that people assume I’m always acting. It’s actually very common. But it’s never hurt me before. Not like it does coming from Jackson’s mouth. After everything we talked about, after everything I confessed to him, he still doesn’t think I’m real? That I’m acting with him? I’ve been more real with him than anyone.
Maybe he’s right not to believe me. When is the last time I’ve truly been myself? And this right here is why. Because when I am real, it’s thrown back in my face.
“Let’s turn around. I’m getting tired.”
I feel his gaze on me, but I keep mine straight ahead and concentrate on peddling us in a circle back toward the dock. As we start to emerge back from under the bridge, Jackson takes my hand. My instinct is to shake it off, but I don’t. I’m an actor, after all. It’s what I do best.
Major Fatal Attraction vibes from Autumn Atwood’s latest NSFW voicemail.
I’ve waited and waited for you. Thinking of all the ways I want you to touch me. Of all the ways I want to touch you. And every minute that passed, I got more and more turned on. I’m throbbing for you. And you’re not here.
Now I have no choice but to take care of myself. At least my, um, not so little vibrating friend never stands me up.
Mmmm, no. He always treats me so well. Oh…damn…he makes me feel good. I’m so wet.
As good as this is…I want you between my legs. I want your tongue. Your cock. Fucking me until I cream all over you.
But no…you’re not here. Now you get to listen as another cock gets me off. You get to hear how good it fills me. How…it…makes me crazy. Oh God…
Mmmm, did you like that, baby? Maybe think twice about standing me up.
8
JACKSON
A loud squeal behind me has me grabbing Autumn, immediately wrapping my arm around her shoulders, and pulling her close. It’s the most I’ve touched her in a week.
“Relax. It’s just people having fun.”
There’s a slight annoyance to Autumn’s voice as she tries to subtly pull away before she remembers I’m her “boyfriend.” I still tighten my hold on her, selfishly enjoying having her pressed next to me. Though that’s not the only reason I’m keeping her close. The food and wine festival we’re at is not exactly the posh event I was convinced would be a good PR move to attend, but more a day drinking festival. It only started three hours ago, and people are already on their way to wasted and going crazy to the DJ’s electric beat.
I turn to see a group of women, laughing obnoxiously at who knows what, their drinks sloshing. We haven’t been recognized, but I have a feeling it’s only a matter of time.
This was a horrible idea, especially after the shitty week it’s been.
Another voicemail was leaked. Autumn lost the Home & Heart contract. Ben remains silent about their prior relationship while his singer girlfriend, Hilarie Ray, posts subtle jabs at Autumn on social media. The media has labeled Autumn as a stalker. Oh, and Autumn pretty much hates me. Not that she’s been acting like she hates me. No, she’s simply acting.
All. The. Time.
And out of everything that’s rained down on us this past week, that last one is killing me the most.
The friendly conversations, the laughter, the smiles…it’s all fake. There’s no spark in her eyes. The fight, the mischief - her inner wildcat - it’s all gone. She’s merely a character of herself.
I hate it. I hate even more that I’m responsible for it.
I accused her of not being real with me after all she told me on that swan. Yeah, it was a shitty thing to do, but she lied to me about her relationship with Ben and it pissed me off. Not only do I hate being played, but my gut is telling me Ben is behind this and if Autumn were honest with me, I could figure out why.
A couple walks in front of us, the woman sipping on a yard-long frozen wine drink stumbles and almost bumps into us, but I quickly maneuver us away.
“This place is hot mess. We shouldn’t be here.”
“Haven’t you heard? I’m the very definition of hot mess. This is the perfect place for me.” She smiles up at me, but it’s forced, strained, and for once I’m glad I can’t see her eyes and the lack of emotion that’s surely in them.
She’s been calm and collected through everything this week and it doesn’t feel right. Just once I wish she’d let the wildcat loose and rage, even if it’s only in front of me. But I suppose I lost that right after the swan.
“Autumn…”
