I watched Addi resemble Layla on the screen, complete with a wig and plain clothing, waiting to feel the poison creep back into my heart… but it never did. Now all I felt was resentment for wasting so much time letting myself think a one-way road was what I deserved. Layla blurred my vision in every way. I saw myself as a villain, unwanted, unloved… just because that was how she saw me.
Addi was a lot of things; reassuring wasn’t something she did naturally. Maybe she physically couldn't. Maybe that was a job saved for people who feel whole. That was their contribution to society: to reassure us.
I woke up and stared up at Addi straddling my lap. Still half asleep, I reached for my blunt that I knew was on the nightstand. Lighting up the end between my lips, I felt Addi’s hips slide against mine and her wetness coating my length without being inside her. My dick was already jumping into action before I was even comprehending what was happening.
“Morning, husband. I'm never gonna get tired of that, ya know.”
“I'm not a sex machine, you know.”
Her smile turned into a shameless giggle, while her hips kept working up and down my length. She was slowly killing me. This girl had a one-way line to my dick, and they communicated without me.
She pushed her hips up enough for her hand to guide my tip inside her, and I felt the rush of a high before my pot could kick in. “Goddamn, Addi…”
I watched her legs shake, like she was pre-orgasming already, when she took my blunt and sucked out the high, while blowing her exhale into my mouth when she leaned down. I felt my dick jerk against her tightness, like it wasn't enough to be inside her and get high with her.
She also had a direct line to my heart, and thankfully, I was included in that.
I pushed her down, craving more than her fucking teasing today. I pushed her legs open as far as they'd go and rested my palms on her inner thighs, holding them down while I watched my length disappear inside her, hugging every inch and begging me to come.
Looking down at her, I had to compose myself before trying to speak. “How many times are you gonna let me fuck you without a condom before you reassure me you're on the pill?”
“I didn't think you were the kind of man who needed reassurance.” I caught the small smile she was trying to conceal, but she was doing a poor job as I picked up my pace.
I didn't let up. I wanted to push her over the edge and watch her face freeze mid moan, because her body gave up before she did mentally. I watched her inhale, and her nails raked down my chest. She did like leaving her mark, like anyone else could handle either of us. We didn't need warning signs.
After pushing her over the edge and proceeding to come inside her for the umpteenth time, I showered and headed out for coffee. Addi’s pussy was magic, but magic wasn’t caffeine. I was going to soak up the five minute drive to Intuition as long as I could before we actually moved to Boston before her transfer was complete.
I was still able to work anywhere. I had even more power now after letting Hector know he had a rat in his circle. Now I had freedom, more traveling to oversee shipments, and I racked in more rewards for selling less than I used to.
Addi screamed upstairs, and I let my Intuition to-go cup hit the counter with a thud, not caring about caffeine. I wasn't athletic, but I sure as hell ran up the stairs so fast I wasn't sure if my feet hit any of them.
I knew I had enemies now, more than before. Amherst was so off the map I thought this counted as hiding in plain sight.
My heart and mind were racing with adrenaline and possibilities when I pushed the door open wider to find her jumping on the bed. You could take all the fake from Addi, but the dramatic? It was imbedded in her soul and every bit authentic.
“Hunter! The Best Years got picked up! I have to fly to LA tonight to film more episodes!”
I didn't mind not having roots. Addi being summoned to LA to shoot more episodes was a complete coincidence, when I had to visit Tinseltown in a few days.
“Good, because Hector wants me there for a drop.”
She stopped jumping, and instead, she wrapped her arms around my neck, sinking onto her knees and bringing me with her.
“I love you, Hunter, with every part of me... and my twenty personalities.”
“Just twenty, huh?”
She laughed into my chest before smacking my arm and trying to shift her mouth into shock, even though laughter had its grip on her.
It took me awhile to feel like I belonged anywhere. I tried with good people, bad people, places, changing who I was for five years, and concealing parts of me I knew were harder to accept. Now I knew home was wherever she was.
Addi
I didn't feel like a new person, like everyone tells you when you fall in love. I expected every part of me to be a new person—one without the resentment and the self-doubt, and one who didn't wear a fake tan like armor—but I was just the best version of myself now.
After washing off the fake tan and pounds of makeup, Hunter didn't look at me any differently. His eyes still got smoky when he looked at me, like a storm was on the forefront—an emotional one.
Hunter was my secret weapon in auditions and the acting classes I was taking, while I postponed my actual classes with Mister. I was avoiding him and, honestly, campus altogether, if it meant possibly running into him. I was a different person now, but that didn’t mean I wanted to see a married man beg me to keep making him happy, because his life didn’t.
Even though throwing I’m married now in his face would be so satisfying.
My master list did its job of matching how bad I let myself feel in comparison to others. Hunter showed me how to ignore what people say and listen to myself.
My soul was singing a beautifully broken song I could put on repeat and sway to. I came to love the melody.
We were spending more and more time in LA, no longer shooting the show, but doing press and photo shoots that came along with promoting it. Tonight wasn't any different. My agent called it ‘Upfronts’ when a network rolled out their new shows and invited the press to hopefully hype it up. I filmed an entire season of The Best Years, and I still wasn't used to any of this. I didn't want to meet the people. I already had fucked up morale and was holding onto the rest of me with a firm grip.
I stepped out of the car carefully, minding the dress that was on loan from Armani, and feeling something I hadn’t yet (it was on my dead master list): nervous. I was never nervous, but seeing the carpet I was going to walk down, putting myself, my real self, out there for people to judge, gave me severe PTSD flashbacks.
I stood there frozen, trying to compose myself and picture which character in my head best suited this moment, just like picking armor. That was the one thing about acting I loved: playing so many roles that after a while, it made it hard for anyone to know who you really were.
I felt Hunter’s arm slide along my lower back, as his lips brushed my ear. “There's only one you, and I love you. Fuck what people think.”
As his words hit my ear with a warmth, I realized I didn't need to hide behind characters or a fake tan and red lips. His love was all the armor I needed.
We slowly walked up to the carpet with my network’s logo patterned behind me sprinkled in with sponsors on the black background. My dress was sleek white that almost matched my hair falling at my thighs and displaying just how pasty I was, just like my dad. Hunter’s arm and eyes didn't leave my body once, making the photographers beg even more to know who the tall, slender, muscled man with the messy bun was.