“I’m Carter. Drew’s agent.”
“Hi Carter, I’m Julie,” I say as we shake hands. Carter’s hand is warm and clammy. I’d wipe my own hand on my jeans if everyone wasn’t watching me.
Carter smirks. “Well, I guess I’ll get going so you two can hit the hay.” He claps Drew on the back and says, “See you later man.”
Drew isn’t amused by Carter. “Later,” he says with no emotion.
Carter winks at me before making his exit.
Yuck.
Drew and I stare at each other. Neither saying anything. He’s wearing jeans and a white t-shirt that says, “Want it? Earn it.” in dark green ink. He’s got his signature shoes on, but no hat tonight. Every season Drew sports a new haircut. This year his brown hair is short; basically a buzz cut.
Drew puts an end to our staring contest. “I see you’ve met my dad.”
“Yes, she has,” Art says with a grin. “I put her bag on the steps. I’m sure you’ll be kind enough to carry it up for her.”
Mimicking Art’s energy, I plant a smile on my face. “We’ve never been formally introduced,” I put out my hand and wait for Drew to take it, “Julie Michaels.”
Drew looks at me like I’m an idiot, and for a second I think he’s going to leave me hanging. To my relief, he takes my hand. His shake is firm, but he doesn’t crush my fingers.
“Drew Waters.”
His hand engulfs mine and I am a bit intimated when we stand toe to toe. He’s so much taller and bigger than me it’s overwhelming. At 5’8”, I’m not a short girl by anyone’s standards. Standing this close to Drew though, I feel small.
“There!” Art exclaims. “Now you’re ready to sleep with each other!”
Drew drops my hand and we both take a step back. I feel awkward and out of place. Drew seems uncomfortable too, but at least this is his home. I’m in alien territory.
“C’mon,” Drew says. “I’ll show you around.”
Our conversation during the tour of the house consists of Drew pointing out various rooms and me nodding my head. In the basement he has an expansive home gym, a state of the art theater room with two rows of reclining leather seats, a game room with arcade games and pinball machines, and what I would call a “trophy room” filled with his various awards and accomplishments over the years. I am impressed by the room, but Drew seems indifferent to it.
“This is amazing Drew,” I say as I do a 360 degree turn in the room.
There are large trophy cases in each corner, jerseys from his high school and college years, and a ton of framed newspaper articles with headlines shouting Drew’s greatness on the walls.
Drew shrugs his shoulders. “Just a bunch of stuff,” he says before turning off the light.
Our tour of the first floor is brief as I’ve already seen most of it. The second floor consists of five guest rooms, each with its own bathroom. It’s easy for me to pick out Art’s room because it is the only one that looks lived in. A green plaid comforter covers his bed and a picture of himself with a pretty, white haired woman sits on the nightstand. I’m guessing the woman is Drew’s mom, but I don’t pry.
“Where is your room?” I ask when we’re done with the second floor.
Drew points up. “Third floor.”
When we ascend the steps for the third floor, there is nothing but a single set of double doors. I look over the wooden railing and see all the way down to the first floor. A simple, yet beautiful, chandelier hangs from the middle of the ceiling. If I lean over the railing far enough, I may be able to touch one of the twinkling crystals.
Drew pushes open one of the double doors and motions for me to go inside first. I nearly gasp. His bedroom is the biggest bedroom I have ever seen! A massive bed with a soft, grey down comforter sits to the right. To the left is a brown leather sofa and two matching chairs. Each has the Cincinnati Crushers emblem etched into the back. The back wall of his bedroom has several large windows that look out over the backyard.
“What size bed is that?” I ask Drew. “A California king?”
“It’s a custom bed. Nothing sold in stores is big enough for me.”
Drew walks over to a set of doors and opens them. “This will be your closet and bathroom.”
Huh? I knew I’d be given space of my own, but I figured it would be in one of the guest rooms. I didn’t think I would have my own closet and bathroom in Drew’s master suite.
I peer inside the open doors and see a good size closet with nothing but empty shelves and racks. At the opposite end of the closet is a full bathroom with white tile flooring and a glass shower.
We walk to the opposite side of the room and Drew shows me his closet. I don’t want to appear too interested as it is a “forbidden” space pursuant to our contract, but my jaw drops anyway. Drew’s closet is huge. Every white shelf is filled with pairs of brightly colored shoes. There are three built-in dressers and clothing racks filled with shirts and jerseys. In the center of the closet is a large console with drawers. I watch Drew lift the lid on the console and slip his watch into a watch organizer.
I’m snapped out of my revelry when Drew asks, “Will the spare closet and bathroom work for you?”
“Definitely. They’re a lot nicer than the closet and bathroom in my apartment.”
Drew glances over at me. “When they built this house, it was intended to have his and hers closets and bathrooms. The couple who built the house split up before they moved in.”
“How sad.”
“Why? I got a hell of a deal on this place,” he says, apathy in his voice.
Okay... Add “not a romantic” to the list of Drew’s characteristics.
I glance down at my watch. It looks a lot cheaper now that I’ve seen what Drew and his friends wear. I’m surprised to see it’s almost 10:30 p.m.
“Are you ready for bed or are you going to stay up a while?” I ask Drew.
Drew pulls his t-shirt over his head. “I’m ready now. You?”
I’m too befuddled to respond. His body looks just as good as it did in those underwear ads. No airbrushing or fancy filters necessary.
“What?” he asks as I stare at him.
I shake my head. “Nothing. I’m gonna go change into my pajamas,” I say, stumbling over my words.
Drew raises an eyebrow, but says nothing.
As I walk into my new bathroom, I smack my forehead. Awesome. He probably thinks I’m an idiot.
I change into my leggings and pull off my top. I start to unhook my bra, but then think twice. Do I want to be in bed with Drew without a bra? I decide to keep it on. Something about being braless seems too intimate.
When I’m done getting ready for bed, I square my shoulders and walk out feigning confidence. My ego deflates when I see Drew laying on top of the comforter, his back propped up on a stack of pillows. He’s wearing nothing but grey boxer briefs as he reads a magazine.
He can’t be real. No human being can look this good.
I walk up to my side of the bed and pull the comforter back. There are extra pillows and I’m not sure what to do with them. I don’t want to be rude and throw them on the floor. They’re not technically mine.