Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 116999 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 585(@200wpm)___ 468(@250wpm)___ 390(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116999 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 585(@200wpm)___ 468(@250wpm)___ 390(@300wpm)
It scares me slightly, that I think I may have enjoyed that whisper more than the rest of the movie.
It's like Laurence has reawakened that young boy in front of the mirror with so much world to discover. Everything feels new. Fresh. Unpredictable. Like there are hidden possibilities around every corner, waiting for me to find them.
“You should get that one,” Laurence says as I’m pulling the argyle jumper off over my head.
“It’s when you say things like that, I think you forget only one of us lives on a Hollywood salary.”
I doubt Laurence has even noticed the lack of price tags. He doesn’t seem uncomfortable with the fact we’re the only customers here, either. At first, I thought the shop had been closed specifically for him, but it turns out it’s a by-appointment-only place. I didn’t even know that was a thing until today, that there were clothes shops so exclusive…and expensive…that you had to make a reservation just to visit. I suppose I should’ve guessed when Laurence started picking out socks, where each individual pair is displayed in its own little box, like fine jewellery.
Seasoned in the life of luxury, Laurence is at ease here, being fawned over and waited on. “Well, be sure to pack something warm of your own then. Still gets cold as shite up in Scotland, even in July.”
I hand the jumper back to the supermodel assistant who’s been lingering a few feet away, pretending not to listen in on our conversation. She asks if she can get us anything else, which includes drinks, and Laurence shakes his head. He disappears while I change into my own clothes, with Ned keeping a close eye on him from the front of the store. I met Ned last week. I refer to him in my head as one of Laurence’s bodyguards, but Laurence said they prefer the term close protection officer. Personally, I think that’s a bit of a mouthful.
Laurence isn’t too famous to carry his own bags and weighs his arms down with five of them while Ned accompanies us to the car via the back entrance of the shop. Laurence and I sit in the back, while Ned goes up front with the driver. It’s a luxury car, naturally. My arse is comfortable. The temperature in the air is just right. But I’m not enjoying the journey. When it ends at my hotel, I won’t see Laurence again for ten days until shooting begins in Edinburgh.
“William?”
I roll my head to the side against the headrest, make eye contact with Laurence. “Yeah?”
“Andy and I are having dinner tonight. Come with us.”
My heart sinks. “Ah, I’m going—”
“Go home after,” he interrupts. “It’s just dinner. Couple of hours.” Those blue eyes, framed by the crinkles of his smile, are so close. They’re pleading with me. But they’re not what convince me.
Looking down, I see his hand on the seat between us, not an inch from mine. His fingertips shuffle slowly forward until they overlap my own, and as soon as I feel his skin, I know I will agree to anything he asks of me. “Just dinner,” I say. “And I can’t drink because I’ll be driving right after.”
His fingers move further over the top of my hand and close around my palm. Hell. His touch is electric. My dick starts to swell. I pull out of his grip. Shift in my seat.
“I’ll let Andy know.”
I nod, I think, but I can’t look at him. Instead, I focus out of the window. I study the blur of buildings as we speed past them, the shade of the clouds in the sky, anything except the throb between my legs and the continuing warmth spreading through my hand left behind by my…friend.
“We’ll be in my hotel lobby at six,” he continues. “I can send a car or—”
“I’ll drive,” I cut in. We’re pulling up at my own hotel and I’m more eager to escape than I was when we set off. “See you at six.” I manage to say that without looking back at him once. I hope I haven’t upset him, but I don’t fancy walking around in public with a massive hard-on, so seeing him is a risk I can’t take.
Up in my room, I finish packing for the final time. I completed most of it this morning, leaving only toiletries, my toothbrush, and a change of clothes out. After showering, I call Becca and tell her I’ve been asked to assist the rigging team strip down the last of the cables before I leave and that I’ll be a few hours late. She’s fine with it. I’m not sure I am. It’s unsettling how good I am at lying to my wife considering I never felt the need to do it before…him. Before Laurence. Before my…friend.
Still, I’ve got over a week to make it up to her. An extra special week at that. True to his word, Laurence called his father and has arranged a cottage for my family and I to spend a few days in. My wife can’t wait. The kids are indifferent, she says, at least outwardly. As for me, I’m…nervous, I think. Which is bizarre. Outlandish, even. Nervous about spending time with my own family. Or my wife, more specifically.