It’s the middle of the night and I find myself sitting in front of my computer and Googling his name again. I have to know what I’m up against as far as his fans are concerned, and I realize that I could be lumped in with the crazies.
There are many fan sites dedicated to him, along with images of him with women. Lots and lots of women. I’m assuming most are from concerts and public appearances, and some I can tell are Photoshopped, but others look real. In fact, he looks like he’s enjoying himself. I remind myself that he was likely high when these were taken, so I shouldn’t worry, but I do.
Especially when I see the same woman pop up in most of the photos of him. They’re together a lot, and she’s either by his side or walking behind him. The captions call her Aspen Lawrence, and while some say she’s his girlfriend, others say that she works for him. I feel doubt start to set in. A lot of my worries are probably no different from those of anyone else entering into a new relationship, but because this relationship is with a famous man known for his looks, they feel different. I don’t know if I’m enough for Bodhi, or why he chose me.
And most importantly, did he fall for me only because we spent so much time together? I think back to his first night here, when he had his paranoid episode. He told me that he loved me, but there’s no way he meant it. I don’t believe in love at first sight. For him it was probably lust at first sight.
And it was lust at first sight for me too. I’m not gonna lie. Bodhi is walking, talking sex, and I let that get to me. I couldn’t resist him, even though I tried. I let my body dictate how I was going to react, my job be damned.
I stare at the image of Bodhi and Aspen and wonder if I have what he’s looking for in the long run. Will next week change things? Will he call me in a few days and tell me he’s busy and to come next weekend instead, only to blow me off the next time as well? I don’t have a hold on Bodhi; we barely know each other. By the looks of Aspen and the way she’s touching him, she knows him well.
Shutting off my computer, I pick up my phone and bring up the text I sent him earlier. Instead of texting, he called me back. That’s a good sign, at least in my book. But what’s he doing now? That’s what I have to know.
I’m thinking about you & hope everything is well on your first night home.
I send the text without rethinking it. I kept it professional and to the point. The dialogue bubble pops up, telling me that he’s writing back. I feel a slight sense of relief that he’s awake and not too busy to respond.
The reply includes a picture of his dick with the message We’re just in bed, thinking about you!
I can feel myself blush and I quickly turn my phone over, screen down. But a second later I turn it back over and look at the image again. It dawns on me that this is first time I’m seeing it up close.
I have a wicked thought, and text: How do I know that’s yours?
I sit back, trying not to giggle. I don’t want to wake Daphne—the last thing I feel like doing is sharing this with her, but if I wake her up by laughing, I know she’ll ask.
The next image to pop up is one of Bodhi. I sigh when I see his blue eyes looking back at me. He looks peaceful and happy, completely different from when he was first here. His hair is so much longer than when he arrived, and it sort of fans out over his pillow. And his smile…it warms my insides to see that grin beaming at me.
Does this help?
I smile to myself and text back, A little .
I’ve never gotten a text like Bodhi’s before. I guess it’s pretty normal as long as you trust the person receiving the message. My heart soars knowing Bodhi trusts me like this.
My phone vibrates and another image is there. This time my mouth is hanging open and I’m left speechless. Bodhi is standing in front of a full-length mirror with his shirt off, showing me his amazing washboard abs and his…well, let’s just say I know why I had trouble walking after we had sex.
Better?
The best. You didn’t have to do that.
I don’t want you to forget me.
That’s never going to happen.
Good. Sweet dreams, my darling. Tomorrow we’ll make plans
for you to come visit.
Good night.
I hold my phone against my chest and sigh. I’ve never been one for pet names, but each time he uses a new one for me, a piece of me starts to fall for him all over again. How can someone have this much of an effect on me so quickly? When I was a teenager I hated the insta-love my friends would feel, and I often told them they were foolish. Yet here I am falling for Bodhi as if tomorrow doesn’t exist.
It’s easy to imagine that when you spend every day with the same person, you can fall in love with them. Maybe that’s what this is. But if that’s the case, what happens when we don’t see each other nearly as often?
Chapter 17
Bodhi
Waking up in my parents’ home is a peaceful experience. When I come downstairs, there’s soft music coming from somewhere in the house, and the smell of bacon and eggs greets me. My mother is out on our patio doing some sort of yoga. Seeing her like this reminds me of when I was little and I didn’t have a care in the world. It’s funny that we’re always eager to grow up but once we do, we don’t want to act like adults.