No Interest in Love

  They get a little caught on her ears, but I get them off and fold them up. I push them on top of the ice machine without dropping her gaze.

  Shay is adorable.

  She’s cute.

  Sexy.

  Gorgeous.

  All of the above.

  I push her hair back, fisting it in my hand, watching her almond eyes drift over my flexed muscles. My thumb escapes her hair to stroke her cheek. I’m in absolute awe of this woman who’s been in my life seven years and I’m only just now seeing.

  She reaches up and pulls at my hair. She thrusts up against me. Her legs squeeze my hips tight. I ignore the request for hard and fast and continue to use the soft touches across her face.

  Her eyes narrow, and the corner of my mouth quirks up. My fingers travel down to her beating heart, and it pumps against my palm. I count the beats, then realize that my own heart is alive in my chest, beating in the exact opposite tune. Together we’d sound like one continuous sound. I kinda like that. I like how romantic these thoughts are. Maybe I should say them out loud…you know, directly to the girl who’s twisted me inside out. Tell her about that twitch in the corner of her mouth that I like. How adorable she is. How I like that she’s tough and can take care of herself. That fingernail. How I’m digging that chewed-up fingernail. And confess that I’ve been waiting for an excuse to grab that sweet ass of hers.

  Well, maybe that last one isn’t as romantic, but hell, I may say it anyway.

  I lean down and kiss her slowly, and laugh when she tries to move her mouth in a faster rhythm. She lets out an impatient sigh, which makes me grin wider, and then I link my fingers with hers.

  “I’ve…” I whisper, eyes drifting from her kiss-swollen lips to our woven fingers. “I’ve never held a girl’s hand like this.”

  Shay quietly watches me as I tap her soft knuckles. I’ve accepted other girls’ hands when they’ve given it to me, but I’ve never wanted to reach out, link fingers, hold on tight, and never let go. It’s a feeling I’m so unfamiliar with that it makes the heated air around us shift. It washes over me, stops my heart, and I’m sucked in with a pleasure and satisfaction I’ve never known before. So much so that I have to press my lips to the palm of the hand I so desperately want in mine for much longer than one night.

  Shay’s eyes pop open wide, staring at our hands, my lips, and like she had no clue what’s been going on for the last ten minutes, she shoves on my chest.

  “Oh…oh no…” she mutters, and I let her slither off the ice machine. “Wait, wait, wait.”

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, but something tells me I don’t want to know the answer.

  She fixes her shirt as she puts a fair amount of distance between us. She paces the room, pointer finger out as she scolds…herself.

  “No pen in the company ink.”

  “Um…what?”

  “No shitting where you eat.” She’s still not looking at me. I try my best to adjust myself without her noticing, then head over to her.

  “Hey,” I say, wrapping my hands around her tiny elbows. She stops pacing, stands in front of me without looking up. She’s muttering in Korean to herself under her breath, and I start laughing. “Am I that bad of a kisser?”

  “I can’t do this,” she says, ignoring my joke. “Not with you. Especially not with you.”

  She wiggles from my hold, and I let her go.

  “It’s ’cause I’m an ass, right?” And I say it without a trace of humor. Her eyes lock with mine briefly and she makes a move toward me before stopping.

  “This whole week…for you…has been about another woman,” she answers. I catch that she doesn’t call me an ass—though she doesn’t refute it either. “You want no strings. The one night. And we can’t do that. I can’t do that.”

  “I wasn’t suggesting that we do.”

  “Seemed pretty clear what you wanted.” She nods to Woody, who has now drifted off a bit but obviously not enough. But my brain’s starting to work better and I still…Man, I still want to take her in my arms and spout off sonnets.

  “We work together,” she says, turning toward the door. The humping dogs are gone. “You’re my client. I can’t ever be a one-nighter because you can’t get rid of me anytime soon. Even if I do get fired, I guarantee we’ll run into each other, because some funny guy running the universe keeps placing you in my way.”

  A grin quirks my lips. “That’s what I’ve been saying too.”

  “See?” she says as I step toward her. She puts a hand on my chest. “I’m right. So we can’t.”

  “You’re not right.”

  Her eyes narrow. “Okay, which part am I not right about?”

  I lean in. She’s pressed against the door. The heat from our romp has fogged the glass, and my hand slides a little before it flattens above her head.

  “What if I said I don’t want just one night with you?” My breath comes out shaky, damn it, and I gulp and try to relax. Her eyes keep skating over my neck, where my pulse is hammering out a wicked tune. “What if I said that you’ve changed my mind? That I don’t want just meaningless sex. That I want something a little more, and a lot more often. That you’ve completely warped my brain, turned me into a romantic who wants nothing more than to just hold you all night, every night. What if I said that I think I’m falling for you?”

  The pause is so deafening, I wonder if time really has stopped. In movies this is the climax. This is the part when the leads get together. This is when the screenwriter puts in the suggestion to drag out the tension. That’s all this is. Tension dragging.

  Then she closes her eyes and says, “I wouldn’t believe you.”

  And my chest…rips apart.

  No.

  No, no.

  That’s not the next line. The next line is “I’m falling for you too” or “Are you serious?” or something that ends the movie with the two leads together.

  “Why not?”

  “You don’t want love, Jace. You’ve never wanted it. And of all the people to make the exception for? Well, let’s just say I know I’m not anyone’s number one choice.”

  “Why in the hell would you say that?” I say a little more harshly than I mean to. But I don’t like her self-deprecating tone.

  “I am the most difficult person to be involved with. I’m controlling and overwhelming and I don’t keep my mouth shut when I probably should. I’m not fun. I’m difficult. And you know that. I’m labeled BUZZKILL in your damn phone.”

  “That’s a joke.”

  “Everything is a joke with you. So when do I take you seriously? How do I know if you’re being real or if it’s just a what-the-hell moment?”

  “You know when I’m acting, Shay,” I tell her, making her eat her own words. But she shakes her head, letting her eyes fall to the floor. She has more to say. I know she does. But she’s not letting me hear the thoughts running through her mind. And in the silence that follows, something hits me.

  Hard.

  Right in my ripped-apart chest.

  Maybe I’m not the lead in Shay: The Movie.

  Maybe I’m the mistake.

  I drop my hand from the glass and step back to give her air. I hear her hand fumble over the doorknob before she pulls it open. She’s leaving. She’s doing what I thought she should do before my dick took my brainpower.

  Good.

  Good for her.

  She is right. I don’t know how to do everything I just said. So I don’t really believe myself either.

  Damn, my chest hurts.

  She gets halfway across the parking lot before I spot her glasses still resting on the ice machine. Snatching them up, I whip open the door and follow her out.

  “Hey, wait up.”

  She turns around, eyes pinched closed. “Jace, please—”

  “No…it’s…” I stop in front of her. “You left these.” I hold her glasses out. She takes them, slowly pushing them back into place. I avert my eyes so I don’t have to watch the equivalent of a strip
tease.

  I wait till I hear the click of her door shutting before heading back to my room. I’m still walking off a partial sport, and something keeps pinging around in my head, making me dizzy. I just have to shake her off, that’s all. It’s been almost a week alone with her. After tomorrow, the screen test, I’ll remember what I really want.

  A soft whine echoes down the walkway just outside my room, and I turn around in search of the noise.

  It’s the dog. She’s huddled in a dark corner, whimpering. Her eyes reflect the moon, creeping me out some, but not enough for me to leave her. I cautiously make my way to her, noticing a collar with vaccine and owner tags, so at least I know she’s not a stray. Her ears pull back, tail curled up between her legs.

  “He left without cuddling, huh?” I crouch down and stick the back of my hand out for the girl to sniff. She leans into my palm, and I scratch her ears. “What a fool.”

  Her nose points to the ground, as if she’s nodding. My fingers run over the cold collar, and I see the owner’s address is the motel. Must be a lobby dog. A hint of a grin makes the corner of my mouth twitch.

  “Come on.” Tucking my hands under her belly, I lift her up and take her back to my room. She puts up a little fit when I put her in the tub, but she kinda stinks, so I’m gonna wash her. I use all the shampoo from that tiny complimentary bottle, then I set up a spot for her on the floor. She’s asleep before I am.

  I look at the clock.

  4:35.

  No good decisions are made after 2 A.M.

  Thing is, I’m not sure if the bad decision was kissing Shay…

  …or letting her walk away.

  9:00 A.M.

  The first thing Shay says to me when I open my door to her knocking is “We are not going to be awkward today, so say what you want now before we catch the shuttle to the airport.” Then her head tilts slightly to the side and she points under my arm. “Is that the dog from last night?”

  I smirk and let her inside. “Technically, it was this morning.”

  She shakes her head and brings her eyes back to mine. “You kissed me.”

  “You kissed me back.”

  “It was after two.”

  “Now you’re agreeing with me on that theory?”

  She narrows her eyes at my smart-ass grin and then socks me in the arm. “Are you really going to joke about it?”

  “I thought that’s what you wanted. No awkwardness.”

  “So last night—”

  “This morning.”

  “—was just a lapse in judgment? A 2 A.M. mishap?”

  There’s no way I can answer that right now, but I know she needs to hear it wasn’t a big deal so we can move on. So I play it off, grabbing the handle of my carry-on and trying to give her a reassuring smile.

  “Shay…you’re an attractive woman who I’ve been stuck with all week. Couldn’t help myself, I guess.”

  Her slightly parted lips close as she looks around the room, focusing on nothing in particular. “That goes for me too.”

  A small laugh tumbles from my mouth. “You finally admitting you think I’m good-looking?”

  Her eyes meet mine and a hint of a smile crosses her face. “Until you open your mouth.” She sighs, dropping her crossed-arm stance. “But we’ll be refraining from making the same error in the future?”

  “I’ll keep my lips to myself, if that’s what you want.”

  She doesn’t nod or say yes or give any other affirmation that it is indeed what she wants. Instead she pulls the door back open and starts walking down the steps to the shuttle stop. I drop the hotel key on the table in the room and chase after her.

  She managed to make that very unawkward. Which doesn’t help…because it only makes her even more desirable.

  9:25 A.M.

  My ass is on the edge of my seat the whole shuttle ride to the airport. I look over my shoulder and scope out every person while we get our tickets. When we go through security, I ask Shay about twenty times if she has anything hidden anywhere. She laughs and says, “Oh yes. In my free time this week I bought drugs and shoved them up my rectum.”

  She teases, but I’m at the point that it wouldn’t surprise me if we get stopped for something as insane as that. The fact that nothing has halted our journey today has me paranoid enough to refuse to let Shay run to the bathroom before the flight.

  “You can go on the plane,” I say, taking the seat nearest to the gate. She crosses her legs and bounces in the seat next to me.

  “We have an hour before our flight takes off.”

  “A lot can happen in an hour.”

  “Yeah…like I could pee myself because you won’t let go of my leg.”

  I look down, not even aware that I’ve been holding on to her knee.

  “Okay. But I’m walking you there.”

  She laughs. “You know, I’m beginning to see how I look to you on most occasions.”

  Yeah. I let her go by herself to the restroom. But I’m pretty sure she takes forever just to mess with me.

  The flight isn’t delayed, which I was sort of expecting, to be honest, and so an hour later the guy at the counter starts boarding. Shay and I stand up and make sure we’re near the front so when they call regular coach people we can hop in line.

  The back of Shay’s hand bumps into mine, and I latch our fingers, knowing it’s probably a couple thing to do and that I may have managed to make our unawkwardness completely awkward. But I tell myself I’m only holding her hand because I don’t want to lose track of her, and as her fingers tighten with mine I assume she probably doesn’t want that either.

  We board with no problems. We sit in our seats with no problems. We’re greeted by the stewardess and we go over plane procedures and no one’s kicked off and there’s no engine problem or any delays whatsoever.

  All right, screenwriter. What are you playing at?

  The plane’s speed starts increasing, the rumble vibrating up through my hand that’s locked with Shay’s. The nose points up, and we climb to however many thousand feet and level out. Shay lets out a long breath and turns to look at me with a half smile.

  “Don’t say anything to jinx it,” she says, and I finally let go of her hand and relax. Alabama, here we come.

  12:44 P.M.

  “I can barely keep my eyes open,” Shay says halfway into our flight. We’ve only got about half an hour till we land, but I hoist up the armrest and give her a soft place—well, soft enough—to rest.

  She hesitates long enough for me to look like an idiot with my arm suspended in the air over her, but then she drops flat on my chest, and I swear she’s out within seconds. My hand lands near her hip, and I trace circles on her skin. Another couple-like thing to do. But you know, I’m starting to really dig the couple-like things…especially with her.

  1:35 P.M.

  Once we land, Shay pulls me into a cab. And if I had any doubts about my life turning into a chick flick, they’re snuffed out now. Because we’re on our way to…

  A shopping montage.

  Apparently, I’m not auditioning for a “homeless man,” as Shay put it. Fortunately, Shay’s not overly picky about style, so when I grab a plain black T-shirt and a pair of jeans, she doesn’t make me try on a bunch of ridiculous clothing in the dressing room.

  Shay picks out a green dress she looks killer in but only purchases because “It’s the cheapest thing that works, Jace.”

  But I can’t stop looking at her legs the entire cab ride to the screen test. I think she’s trying to distract me.

  The cab pulls up to this plain office building, and Shay’s fixing my hair as we get out.

  “It’s like Harry Potter’s,” she says with a laugh. When I hoist myself out of the cab, she can’t reach me anymore, so she just shrugs and pretends that it’s fine.

  The paper on the front door says auditions are being held two floors up, but it says they start on Monday. Shay walks past it without a care.

  The building doesn’t look like anyth
ing special. I’m not sure if they just rented out some conference rooms or what, but the bottom floor is pretty much empty…just a long, narrow hallway that leads to an elevator.

  The whole ride up, I recite my lines under my breath. Shay tries to hide her grin from me, but I catch it.

  “Wow,” Shay says, shoulders relaxing as we step out into the foyer. It looks a bit better up here. Large couch, coffee table with a bowlful of complimentary chocolate mints and a bunch of pens, and a guy on the phone behind a cherrywood desk. Shay grabs a handful of mints and tears one open with a sigh.

  “We made it.”

  “I’d ask for some confidence-building words, but I doubt I’d get them from you,” I joke, fixing my shirt and cracking my neck from side to side. The guy’s eyes widen as he sees who I am, and he gestures for us to go on into the room on his left. Shay nods and turns to me.

  “Why?” she whispers, dusting off my black T-shirt. “Because my vocabulary isn’t encouraging?”

  “I think last time you said not to moon the director.”

  “I felt like you could use the warning.”

  “I think mooning Carletta might get me the job.”

  “Will you just get in there?” she says with a laugh, jamming a pen into her ponytail. I take a step toward her without thinking about it, and she sets her hands on my shoulders to push me back the other way.

  I ignore it. I fight it. The screenwriter of the universe is probably damn tired of our fighting. Shay’s warm eyes flick up to mine, and the pale skin on her cheeks turns a fresh pink color. It has my palms sweaty, my heart pumping fast, and my lips turning upward as I take yet another step toward her.

  “I take it back.”

  “What?”

  “I want to hear something encouraging.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Just get your ass in there.”

  “Just my ass?” I pretend to grab for my pants, and she slaps her hands over my wrists. I’m grinning like a damn fool at her, knowing that Miss Sure Thing is on the other side of the door and not giving a single shit that we spent all week to get here and I’m stalling just to spend a little bit more time with Miss Unlikely.