SKYE

I fan myself slightly and look in the mirror.

Why is it suddenly so hot in here?

I take a deep breath in.

I shouldn't be feeling so confused right now, but I am. With Jacks, everything is just so comfortable. Things aren't like that with Greg. With him, I feel like I'm forcing him to spend time with me.

It doesn't help that I haven't heard from him at all since I left. Except for one brief call to ask if I had taken his charger, of course.

Does he even miss me at all?

It was easy to ignore before, but with Jacks around...

I shake my head.

Nope. We're not going down that road.

This isn't about Jacks. Maybe it's not even about Greg. Maybe I'm just homesick or feeling ignored and it's nice to have someone paying attention to me.

That's probably it.

I shake it off and head back into the living room, where Jacks is perched on the armchair still sipping on his beer.

"It's nice to be able to use a bathroom that's not shared with six dudes," I say with a laugh.

"I know how that goes." He chuckles and a smile spreads across his face. "Tour bus bathrooms can get pretty trashed."

"And busy. The last time I had to go, I had to wait for almost twenty minutes while three other people went. My bladder almost exploded."

"Well we don't want that. If you want, you can use the bathroom on my bus."

"Oh it's okay, that's your space. That's very nice of you to offer, but-"

"No no, really. I'm happy to share."

"I can't just barge into your tour bus," I say. "It's not respectful of your privacy."

"If I'm in the bus, my bodyguard Bruce will be out front. And then you can just knock. Otherwise, consider the invitation open."

"Well... thanks. I might take you up on that next time. Now uh... where were we?"

*****

Another beer and 30 minutes later, Jacks and I were both sitting on the carpet next to the coffee table laughing our asses off at a particularly explicit pirate-themed fanfiction.

"His bulging member nearly ripped through his jeans!" I read through a fit of giggles.

"Jesus Christ," he says, leaning back onto the foot of the armchair. "Why do all these people think I'm packing a fucking tree trunk in my pants? I'm starting to think I've unknowingly disappointed a lot of..."

He straightens up and his eyes widen and I burst into laughter.

"I mean..." he tries again. "Not disappointed in the sense that... it's not disappointing... it's normal sized. It's not... uggh, this sentence hasn't gone well for me."

I shake my head and giggle.

"No, not your finest."

"Cool, cool. Let's just pretend that never happened."

He rests his head in his hands and sighs. I look back to my phone and continue reading.

This is much easier when I'm filled with alcohol.

"Jacks licks his lips and-" I start to read, but my eyes dart ahead and I get tongue-tied.

I'm a pretty open-minded gal, but I'm not about to read this sentence out loud to the person it's written about.

"Ookay, maybe skip this part..." I mumble.

"Wait, what?" he asks. "You were cool with my bulging member a second ago, but this one you're skipping. Now I gotta know. What does it say?"

I cringe and I feel my cheeks burn with embarrassment.

"Alright, fine. But you've got no one to blame but yourself. I take no responsibility." I continue reading. "'Jacks licks his lips and reaches his hand down my pants. "You're so wet for me, Kitten-" Oh god, too much! I can't!'"

I squeal and bury my face in a nearby pillow, kicking my legs in the air with excess awkward energy. After a second, I look back at Jacks, who just seems frozen in place.

"You made me read it," I say. "Entirely your fault."

"I w- No, yeah, I know," he says. "That's just... I don't know what I expected, but not that." His eyes are slightly hooded and boring into mine as he licks his lips, immediately drawing my mind back to the story.

Damn. It's hotter in person than it is in the book.

We're interrupted by a vibration from the coffee table—my phone is ringing. We both look at it and I see the caller ID: Greg.

"Oh, I should probably take this." He nods and excuses himself to the bathroom.

I pick up the phone and sigh.

At least he's calling me. I mean, it's like... three in the morning, but still. He's not totally ignoring me. Maybe he misses me after all.

"Hey!" I answer.

The other end of the line is loud with chattering voices and booming bass.

"Greg?" I ask, but there's no reply, just more random noise and music. "Greg are you there? Can you hear me?"

I look at my phone again and realize that he didn't really call me after all—he butt-dialed me. I end the call with a huff and sit down on the couch. As I lay back, the ceiling spins slightly and I make a mental note to not have that last beer.

Greg was supposed to be the safe choice. He's a good guy, with average looks, and he likes me... I thought that was all I would need. A guy like that sticks with you.

A guy like that doesn't hurt you, right?

"Are you already done with your call?" Jacks asks, walking back into the room as I sit back upright."You didn't have to cut it short on my account."

"Oh uh..." I start to say. Part of me wants to hide the truth—that my boyfriend can't be bothered to even call me, but I'm too tipsy to come up with a good excuse. "It was a butt-dial."

"Oh." Jacks furrows his brow and sits beside me on the couch. "He butt-dialed you at three in the morning?"

"Yeah, he's probably out with friends. He likes to go clubbing."

"Do you like clubbing too?"

"Every once in a while. I'm sort of over it these days."

"Same. It loses its appeal after a while, doesn't it?"

I nod and he leans his elbows on his knees.

"So you both live in Hollywood?" he asks.

"Uh, more or less. Technically, I live in Hollywood and he lives in Los Feliz, but he works in Hollywood."

"You don't live together?" A slight smile pulls at his lips.

"Oh, no. We figured we would at some point, but we're not in any rush."

We've talked about it a couple of times, but Greg still has to tell his parents about me first, which is a pretty big roadblock. Plus I like having my own space.

"Good, yeah," Jacks says. "I mean, that's a good idea. No need to rush into anything."

"I like my alone time anyway."

"So you're alone a lot?" His voice is softer, almost concerned.

Oh god, I sound so pathetic when he puts it like that.

"No, not at all. I'm pretty busy with work and friends and my brother. That's uh... that's why I like time to myself—when I can get it."

That was a lie. Okay, half a lie. I do spend a lot of time alone, but mostly because it's rare that I find someone I enjoy spending time with.

"I'm not surprised. You're quite a popular girl."

"I don't know about that."

"I do. Like I said, your middle name suits you perfectly—you're like sunshine. People feel your warmth and they gravitate to you."

"I'm not warm. I'm a grumpy old lady in a 23-year-old body."

"You can be both," he says with a smirk. "Nobody is just one thing. Nobody worth liking, anyway. All the best people are contradictions."

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