Page 20 of VIP
Arlo
“Hotdog,” I said, smirking when Max groaned under his breath. “With ketchup and relish, please.” The vendor nodded and dressed my dog for me, passing it over the cart wrapped in a napkin.
Sure, hotdog was my safe word, but it was also my favorite food, and I took great pleasure in the automatic sexual connection Max now made between the two.
“Uh, the same for me, thanks,” he managed to say, though I didn’t think he was even aware of what he’d just ordered because he kept his eyes on me, and they were filled with intense heat. I could just imagine the dirty, dirty thoughts going through his head right now—and now I was thinking them too.
Once we had our hotdogs, we walked over to a park bench to eat them. He’d been quiet since picking me up. The insecure part of me wondered if I’d done something wrong. Maybe I shouldn’t have sent him a dick pic when he was on set. Or at all? If someone saw it, it might tarnish his reputation that he was working so hard to keep clean. When we sat down, though, he made sure that our bodies were touching, at our shoulders and thighs.
“Are you okay?” I asked tentatively, trying to keep my tone of voice light. “Anything bugging you? You seem a bit quiet.”
Instead of answering, he shoved his hotdog into his mouth for a too-big bite. “Mm,” he moaned, exaggerating how good it was. By the time he’d finished chewing, he made it quite clear that he had no intention of answering, and instead changed the subject. “What do you have planned for today?”
Fine, I could take a hint. “Um, not much. Just going to visit my grandmother.”
His eyes sparked with interest. “Oh yeah? We haven’t talked much about our families. Are you guys close?”
“The closest,” I said. “She pretty much raised me after my parents died. Car accident, when I was 12,” I explained before he could ask. “She had a stroke a few months ago, so she’s in an assisted living center now, but I visit her every Sunday.”
Max balled up his napkin, already finished his hotdog while I still had half of mine left. “Maybe I could go with you?” he asked, sounding a little nervous. He hurried on to add, “You know, to keep up appearances. I mean, if we were getting married, it would only make sense to meet your family.”
“Oh… okay. I guess that would be all right.” I squirmed in my seat, occupying myself with my lunch. The thought of Max coming to Golden Years with me made me feel… weird. Jittery and nervous. He’d said it was to keep up our act, but then why did it feel more like I was introducing a boyfriend? Gran would certainly see him that way, and a voice whispered in my ear that maybe I saw him a bit like that too. As mine…
“What about your family?” I asked. “Do you have any siblings or…”
He was shaking his head. “Nah. I’m an only child, and I still talk to my parents, but we aren’t close. They’re proud enough of me, I guess, encouraged me to follow my dreams, but I always got this impression they wanted me to do something more with my life. A teacher maybe, or a police officer. Something in service to others.”
“You service me,” I told him, bumping his shoulder with mine before staying like that, close enough to breathe him in and feel his warmth. “Seriously, though. Your movies make people happy. Nothing wrong with that.”
“No, nothing wrong with that,” he agreed, smiling that grin that made me melt.
I really shouldn’t have agreed to have sex with him in the first place, because it had not just blurred the lines between us but totally obliterated them. Now, though, there was zero chance of me taking a step back, because now I knew what I was missing, and I really didn’t want to give that up.
And it really didn’t help my confusion when he said, “You’ve got a little ketchup right there… here, let me get it for you.” Then he leaned in and licked the corner of my mouth—slowly, smoothly—capturing the bit of sauce.
Great, now I associated hotdogs with sex too. I would never look at them again without getting an instant stiffy.
“Should we go?” he asked, his voice raspy. “I wouldn’t want to keep your grandmother waiting.”
“Uh-huh,” I breathed on a sigh as he pulled away, leaving me cold and needy.
As many times as I told myself the little caresses were all an act, it didn’t feel like it. If it was fake, would it make my heart skip a beat when he took my hand in his? Or leave me breathless when he gave me an innocent kiss? Would it make my skin prickle when he called me precious? Maybe I was wrong, but it made me feel like there was more going on, that something was growing between us.
Just as I was about to open my mouth and ask, he said, “Quick, smile. Or maybe laugh, make it look like I said something funny. There’s a photographer over by the gate.” When I turned to look, he said, “No, don’t turn around. We want it to look candid.”
Of course it’s fake. What was I thinking?
So, I smiled as naturally as I could, even as a part of me shriveled up inside. Max must’ve caught on that something was bothering me, because he hurried us back to where he’d parked. We swung by Crave on the way, as usual, and I left Max in the car while I ran in and grabbed my box of goodies.
When we pulled up at Golden Years, Max got out of the car and hurried around to open my door for me. “I’m not an invalid,” I grumbled, still feeling prickly, but he kissed away my frown.
“I don’t have to come in if you don’t want. I didn’t mean to pressure you into anything.”
“No, it’s fine. I’m just… not in the mood for an audience today, I guess. At least with all their attention on you, maybe they won’t notice if I steal one of the jelly donuts.” I smirked, and he laughed, a warm throaty sound.
As we approached the door, I could practically see him putting on his public image. He tipped his chin up, with that charismatic smile teasing at his lips, his shoulders back, chest out. Honestly, now that I knew the real Max, I kind of hated this version of him. It was too stiff. Fake.
“Hey, Arlo,” one of the volunteers, Tanner, said as he walked beside a man shuffling with a walker down the hall.