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“I didn’t hear you snore last night.”
“You’re probably getting used to it by now.”
Nick grabs his phone from the nightstand. “What time is it?”
“A little after eight,” I say, reading the hands on my watch.
Nick rolls on his back and lets out a soft, easy yawn that makes me want to hit the snooze button and stay in bed with him the rest of the day. “We should probably get up and get going.”
“Just a few more minutes.” I slink my arm around him, caressing the valley of his collarbone.
“Your audition’s this afternoon. I thought you’d be jumping out of bed.”
I glance up at him, resting my chin on his chest, and slip my hand between us. “Right now, I’d rather jump something else.”
His head rolls back into his pillow, a naughty smirk on his mouth. “Mmm, how much time do we have?”
Giggling (yes, that kind of giggle), I rise up, hovering over him. Soon our bodies are intertwined once more. The rush and ecstasy return and I find myself close again.
Ding-a-ling-a-ling!
Ding-a-ling-a-ling!
Who could be calling me right now? Whatever it is, it’s not more important than this. I let it go to voicemail.
It rings again.
“Dammit,” I whisper, and find the phone on the floor next to my pants. “It’s Bernie. I swear that woman has some kind of radar.”
“Answer it. Could be important,” Nick urges, wiping his lip.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Olivia, you’re not still sleeping, are you?” she asks, the city street noise competing with her voice.
I sit up, covering my chest with the duvet. “No, I’m just getting ready.”
“Good. Now, how are you feeling about your audition?” she asks.
“Great! I have an improved set. The bookers will love it,” I say, attempting to trust my comedy.
“That’s what I like to hear. Now try to leave as early as possible.”
“My audition’s not until two thirty. We’ve got plenty of time.”
“In theory, but don’t underestimate Los Angeles traffic. You didn’t go all the way out there just to spend a few extra minutes at the buffet.” Bernie may be referring to eggs and sausage but I’ve got a craving for breakfast in bed. Though, she’s probably right—better not to risk it.
“I’ll get there on time. Don’t worry.”
“Good,” she says. “Call me afterward so I can follow up. Got it?”
“Got it. And Bernie?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks. For setting all this up for me. It’s been life-changing,” I say, looking over at Nick, who’s been patiently waiting.
“No sweat, kid. Safe travels.”
