Because Fat Girl

Chapter Thirty-One

Drew was stroking my hair when his alarm went off, and he quickly reached over to silence it, thinking I was asleep. With one last kiss to the forehead, he pulled away from me and quietly crawled out of bed. I listened as he turned on the tap and briefly thought about joining him in that glass shower, both of us exposed for the world to see, but my confidence was waning quickly. Drew might have enjoyed the softness of my body against his at night, but it was another thing to see the way I folded in on myself in the light of day, every roll, bulge, and insecurity exposed.

As quietly as I could, I jumped out of bed and grabbed his Guns N’ Roses shirt and my underwear from where I’d thrown them the night before. I contemplated finding the outfit I’d arrived here in, but I didn’t know where it was in the house and who I’d run into trying to find it. I was sure the housekeeper and gardener were used to seeing half-naked women in Drew’s home in the morning. I just couldn’t handle anyone seeing me here like this.

I heard Drew turn off the water, and I quickly hopped back into bed, hiding underneath the covers. Part of me wanted him to just leave without saying goodbye, to go and let last night be what it was, no strings attached. Another part of me wanted him to come in here, wrap me in his arms again, and promise that everything would be okay.

“Good morning,” Drew said, walking into the room wearing nothing but a towel. A primal part of me longed to rip it off and have another go before he left, but uncertainty had hold of me, and I turned my head so he kissed my cheek.

“Morning breath,” I explained as my excuse.

“I don’t care.” He tried to kiss me again.

“Just one second.” I hopped out of bed and headed to the guest bathroom, buying myself some time to think. I found the toothbrush and paste that Drew kept for guests and took my time cleaning myself up, brushing my hair and washing my pits and bits, “the double-p shower” as Cecily called it. When I got back, a set of luggage was ready near the door and Drew was sitting in the sun on the patio just off his room. I’d completely forgotten that Drew had to leave for post-production pickup scenes today.

“You packed quickly,” I said, squinting against the Southern California sun as I joined him outside.

“I packed yesterday,” Drew reminded me, scooting over to make room. “Just had to throw in some last-minute things.”

I joined him on the sofa, and he went for my hand. I flinched a bit when he touched it, making him pull away.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized, seeing the look of hurt in his eyes.

“No, no, it’s okay.” Drew shook his head. “I get it.”

“It’s just, um…” I glanced around at him, his house, his world. Everything was perfect, except for me. “It’s a lot to process.”

“I get it.”

“Do you though?” I asked. “Do you get what it means for someone else to wake up in this house?”

“What’s the quote Julia Roberts says in Notting Hill ? ‘People go to bed with Gilda and wake up with me?’”

“Yeah, except I went to bed with Andy and woke up with Drew Williams.”

“How is that different?” he asked.

“The part that attracts most people to you is the part that repels me,” I explained.

“Nice to know I repel you.”

I could tell I’d hurt him and hated myself for it.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” I promised, touching him reassuringly. “I meant that I really like the you that I get to see—my friend Andy, the one who gets me fries with cheese and plays putt-putt. But I’m not sure what it means to be intimate with the famous Drew Williams.”

“‘You know all that fame stuff means nothing. At the end of the day, I’m just a boy standing in front of a girl, asking her to love him.’”

“You’re really gonna pull that line on me right now?” I laughed.

“I’m going to double down on it, too,” he avowed, moving closer to me. “‘I have to leave today, but I thought, if I didn’t, I was wondering if I could see you a little. Or a lot.’”

“Quoting Notting Hill won’t make me like you more,” I protested, but I leaned in toward him anyway, our lips touching.

“Won’t it?” Drew pulled me on top of him, our bodies entwined. He tasted like peppermint and smelled of expensive soap, and I wondered how long we had until his driver came to take him to the airport, how far we could go on like this before life interrupted us.

I twirled my hands through Drew’s hair and pressed down into his lap, feeling his eagerness poking into me, my own excitement seeping through my lace-thin underwear. His mouth left mine and hungrily found my right breast, licking and sucking my nipple as his free hand made its way down to my thighs. My head lolled back in ecstasy, and I felt my body vibrate with anticipation.

No, wait, that wasn’t coming from my body. It was coming from Drew’s pocket.

“Someone’s calling you,” I moaned.

“Whoever it is can wait.” Drew pressed his finger against my clit, stroking it through my underwear.

“You’re going to miss your flight,” I reminded him, my breathing growing heavy.

“That’s the glory of flying private,” he said, his fingers pushing aside the lace. “They don’t leave without you.”

I let out a cry as Drew entered me with one hand, his other reaching around and pulling a condom out of his pocket.

“That’s rather presumptuous of you.” I smirked as he unwrapped the foil.

“Call me an optimist,” Drew said, rolling the condom over himself. “Come here.”

“Gladly.” I threw off my clothes and climbed on top of him, insecurities be damned. I grabbed his shirt in my hands and tore it off, too, needing to feel our skin touch again.

“God, you’re so fucking sexy,” Drew said before his mouth engulfed my breast, his tongue flicking my nipple, sending shocks of pleasure through my body.

His phone vibrated again, but we ignored it as I rode him hard, our bodies smashing into each other, seeking release. Drew’s hands were on my ass, pushing himself deeper into me.

“I’m so close,” he cried, our eyes meeting.

“Me, too,” I breathed, reaching my hand down in between my legs to rub my clit.

“I want you to come with me,” he moaned, moving one hand up to my face. “Oh, Diana, please come with me.”

“Yes.” I gasped. “Yes, Drew, yes.”

We pushed into each other harder and harder, both on the verge of exploding as his phone rang again and again.

“Shouldn’t you get it?” I said breathlessly, my orgasm coming. Drew didn’t answer me, his mouth too busy sucking hard on my nipple. I could feel that rising tide within me, a tsunami about to break. Just a few more strokes.

“Drew?” a high-pitched voice yelled from inside his house. “Drew Williams, where are you?”

“Fuck,” Drew swore, his mouth leaving my breast.

“Should we stop?” I whined.

“God no.” Drew pulled me into him, kissing me hard as he thrust into me, taking us both over the edge, his mouth absorbing my scream.

“Drew Williams!” the high-pitched voice repeated, this time on the other side of his bedroom door.

“I’m coming!” he yelled back.

“I’m sure you are,” the voice nagged, “but tell whatever hussy you’ve got in there that you’ve got a publicity shoot before the voice-overs and you cannot be late for this.”

“Did he just call me a hussy?” I growled, climbing off Drew and heading back toward his room, searching for my clothes.

“Diana, wait,” Drew said, running after me, trying to pull the condom off and his pants on at the same time.

“Is it normal for you to keep your team waiting while you fuck girls on your patio?” I asked, pulling his Guns N’ Roses shirt over my head.

“I hear you,” the voice yelled.

“Who is that asshole?” I pointed toward the door.

“Gary, my manager,” Drew explained, throwing on his shirt. “He prides himself on the promptness of his clients.”

“How did he even get in?” I wrapped myself in Drew’s blanket, not wanting to have Gary see me half-naked.

“I have no idea,” Drew said, loading his arms with luggage. “But I’m going to fire my security team.”

“Drew Williams!” Gary yelled.

“Dammit, Gary.” Drew flung open his bedroom door. “Just give me a minute!”

“One minute,” Gary agreed, taking Drew’s luggage and giving me a judgment-filled side-eye.

Drew looked at me apologetically. “I’ve gotta go.”

“I know,” I said.

“Can I call you when I land?”

“I don’t know. Can you?”

“Actually, I can’t.” Drew sighed. “We go straight into shooting. But I can call you tonight.”

Soon, Drew would be in Hawaii filming promo shots and pickup scenes with his gorgeous sidekick, Elena. Meanwhile, I’d be back here in L.A., going full speed ahead on pre-production with Chris. We’d worked it all out as a team weeks ago, and every detail was accounted for.

Every detail except us sleeping together.

“Last night was great,” I said. “Can’t we leave it at just that?”

“I don’t think I can, Diana.” Drew lifted his hand to cup my face. “I’ve waited too long to kiss you. Now that I have you, I don’t want to let you go.”

“What if I need to be let go?” I asked. “What if I can’t handle this?”

“Then I’ll walk away knowing I at least got to taste you for a night.” Drew lowered his lips to mine. Our kiss felt desperate, wild, the primal longing in it drawing us together. Drew broke away first, leaving my body needing more.

“And what happens if I want to stay?” I wondered, standing there, feeling like my whole self was laid bare by that kiss.

“You can stay as long as you want.” Drew hugged me tightly.

“Careful, I’m a queer woman,” I quipped. “I might pull up here in a U-Haul with all my stuff.”

“I’ll move the Tesla over so it can fit.” Drew laughed, then kissed my forehead one last time before releasing me. “No one will be around today, so the house is yours. Just press two fingers on the door to lock it when you leave.”

“I’ll head out soon,” I promised, wrapping the blanket around me as Gary began walking back toward us. “I should get home. Cecily and I need to have a chat.”

“I hate leaving you like this.” Drew pulled me toward him again.

“I’m fine.” I stiffened.

“When a woman says she’s fine, she never is,” Drew stated, stroking my face with his hands.

“You should go,” I urged, overwhelmed by this whole situation.

“I’m going to be pretty booked, but I’ll find a time to call you,” Drew promised, letting go of me. “Please pick up when I do.”

“I’ll try,” I replied, unsure of what else I could do.

“I’ll see you soon,” Drew said before heading down the hallway toward a loudly chattering Gary.

I closed the door and turned to look at my surroundings. Last night, there had been a moment when I found the perfect crook in Drew’s arm and laid myself in it, my whole body fitting into his like a missing puzzle piece. Now, standing in his bedroom alone, I felt completely out of place, unsure of where to go or what to do.

I wanted to cry, but tears wouldn’t come. I wanted to shout, but I couldn’t find it in me to scream. What I really wanted most of all was to lift this weight of fear and insecurity off of me, so I could think. Realizing exactly what I needed, I walked out of Drew’s bedroom and directly into his pool, Guns N’ Roses shirt and all.

In an hour, I’d leave this mansion in the hills and drive back to Arcadia to try to mend things with Cecily. In a week, all of the cast and crew contracts would be solidified. And in a little under a month, I’d be expected to direct a full-length feature film. All while trying to figure out what it meant to be falling in love with one of my producers, a cishet man to boot. The pressure of it all could crush me alive, if I let it. But right there, in Drew’s pool, I felt weightless. Right then, with Drew’s smell still on me, I felt like I could fly.