Following Isaac (7 page)

Chapter 11

Becca

I needed to get a freaking grip on my nerves, but it was almost impossible with the way Isaac stared at me as if he was love-struck. I tried to refuse when he asked me to go to his room, but he easily talked me into it. He seemed entirely sincere about wanting to spend time with me, and even though I still doubted the trueness of the situation, I couldn't refuse him.

He talked to the valet. I handed my keys over and felt oddly out of place as we entered the front door. I was in hotels all the time, but I always showed up with flowers or plants and stayed in the lobby. Crossing the lobby to the elevator felt strange.

"New York Nicky! Do you mind if I get a picture with you?" someone said just before we made it to the elevator. Isaac and I both turned to see who spoke. I knew it was a female by her voice, but didn't know how gorgeous she was until I spun around. She was dolled up to the max and I absentmindedly wondered if she was staying in the hotel or just hanging out to try to meet Isaac. Then I felt bad for thinking that since I wasn't above doing the same thing.

"Of course I don't mind," he said. I stepped to the side to let them do their thing.

She stood on her toes, trying to position her face next to Isaac. He didn't leave her hanging; he bent to put his face next to hers. She snapped a couple before kissing him on the cheek, continuing to take pictures.

"What's your name?" he asked, laughing a little at her kisses as he pulled away.

"Tori."

"It was nice to meet you, Tori," he said.

"Do you mind if I post these pictures?" she asked.

"They're yours," he said, smiling kindly at her. He stuck out his hand for her to shake, but instead, she went in for the hug. She reached around him and squeezed tightly, and he laughed at the shock of her swift movement. It looked just like the photo he posted a long time ago with the girl squeezing him. I just stared at them. I knew I should feel threatened by the way girls threw themselves at him, but for some reason, I wasn't. Maybe it was because I didn't believe I was even there in the first place. I felt more like I was watching a movie of his life rather than being a part of it.

She ran off giggling, and he crossed to me and reached out and grabbed my hand, leading me to the elevator. I was acutely aware of his touch. His hand was big and warm, and I could feel his roughened calluses. I wondered why a male model had blue-collar hands, but then I remembered how much time he spent lifting weights. My gut clenched at the thought of him in the gym. I knew perfectly well what was under his clothes, and I felt a burning need to make babies with him. I wasn't in a huge hurry to have children, but Isaac Charles made my womb ache.

We stepped inside the elevator and he pushed the button to take us to the top floor, which was the fifteenth. The doors closed slowly and we started to move. He took a sudden step to his right, turning to stand with his back against the side of the elevator. He was still holding my hand when he did it, and the motion jerked me sideways. I teetered and fell into his arms, and he caught me up and pulled me to his chest. He looked down at me before cupping the side of my face in one hand. My cheek rested comfortably in his warm palm and I stared up at him.

"Your eyes are the gold at the end of the rainbow, Becca. My brain sees them as magic."

I glanced away shyly. "I'm speechless at such a compliment," I said. "I'm not quite sure how to respond to those kinds of words coming from you."

"Why from me? Would they be okay coming form someone else?"

"It'd be more believable."

He pulled back and looked down at me with a slightly offended expression.

"What do you mean by that?"

I smiled at him and let out a slight sigh. "I mean, I know you have a lot of fans. We just met one of them. And anyway, this moment, this situation is sort of unbelievable since you're, you know, famous and everything."

"I'm not really that famous… and what is famous anyway. It means nothing. It makes me no different."

I just stared up at him. He was different—very different. He used his finger to tilt my chin upward even further and leaned down so that his mouth was only a couple of inches from mine. "I'm glad you're here with me," he said. He leaned in to kiss me, and the very instant our lips touched, the elevator dinged, startling me and causing me to jump. The touch of his lips on mine made a sense of overwhelming need wash over me that I was sort of glad for the interruption.

He laughed and squeezed me a little as we turned and stepped out of the elevator. He led me to his room, which was near the end of the hall, and pulled a card out of his money clip before scanning it on the little box by the doorknob.

"Where've you been, dude? We're already working on our third bottle!" a guy's voice yelled as soon as Isaac opened the door.

He grabbed my hand and I followed him inside. His friend Shane and the two models from before were sitting around in the living room. Shane was kicked back on the couch, but he straightened once he saw me. He regarded me curiously. "Would the two of you like a drink?" he asked, shifting his gaze to Isaac.

He said the words
two of you
as if he disbelieved my presence there as much as I did. I tried to drop my hand from Isaac's, but he held it in place.

"I have a minibar in the room if we decide to have something."

Shane smiled and lifted an eyebrow. "Is that how it is?" he asked.

He looked at me. "In that case, I should warn you. As his manager, it's my job to keep him in top form, and for Isaac, that means no tears. He's a sensiti—"

"Shane," Isaac said, interrupting him with a hand in the air. "I got this."

Shane looked at me, smiling and unfazed.

"You should know that when we leave, you won't hear from him—"

"Shane, seriously, dude, keep your mouth shut right now. This is Becca. She and I will be in my room."

"She needs to know what to expect, dude," Shane said. "You're not gonna be able to deal with tears in the morning. You have to get a workout in before your shoot, and we need you to be focused."

"I love you, man, but if you say another word about tears or expectations, I'm gonna kick your fuckin' ass."

Shane cocked his head to the side and regarded Isaac curiously. It almost looked like he was trying to communicate something without words.

"
Seriously
?" Shane asked, finally.

"Seriously," Isaac confirmed.

I got the feeling that Shane couldn't believe Isaac would want to bring me to his room, which made me feel embarrassed. Unaware of my embarrassment, Isaac smiled and waved at everyone before tugging me behind him toward what I assumed was his room.

"Did you want to stay out there and have a glass of wine with those guys?" he said. "I probably should have asked you that instead of assuming you'd want to come straight back here with—"

"No," I assured him. "I'm good. I don't mean this to sound weird, but I'm not sure I belong here."

"That does sound weird," he said simply.

I smiled as we walked into his room and shut the door behind us. The instant we were behind closed doors, he wrapped his arms tightly around me. "Please stop trying to leave me," he said. "I want you in my arms. I want you with me."

I'd been with him for hours. We asked each other tons of questions and I felt like I had really been getting to know him. He seemed like a caring, honest guy, which was why I had trouble believing that any of this was actually happening. It was way too good to be true. I was Becca Gibson, the girl who was everybody's friend but nobody's girlfriend, and now I was supposed to believe that
Isaac Charles
was smitten with me? I'm sorry, but yeah right.

"Stay right here," he said, squeezing me before letting me go. "I'm taking a picture." He fished his phone from his pocket and held his phone in the air. I snuggled in close to his big chest and smiled contentedly at the phone. I caught a glimpse of what we looked like as he snapped the picture, but wasn't able to get a good look at how it came out before he put the phone back into his pocket.

"I need to use your restroom if you don't mind," I said. Really, I just needed to look at my reflection in the mirror and assure myself I wasn't losing my mind.

"Go ahead," he said. "I'll be right here." He crossed to the side of the bed where his luggage was lying open as I made my way into the bathroom. Even though it seemed unbelievable, it was time to face the reality that I might be in the process of having a one-night stand with him. This was both a dream come true and a nightmare. It was a dream come true for obvious reasons, but I was still self-conscious about my weight, and because of this, I had on one of my famous girdle contraptions.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror feeling horrified at the possibility that Isaac would take my shirt off to find that I was wrapped up in heavy-duty Spanx. I had no other choice. I began shedding my clothes instantly. The sweater and tank top came off in one motion, then my shoes and jeans.

With great effort, I peeled off the undergarment and stepped out of it before getting dressed again. I looked at myself in the mirror, hoping I didn't look terrible without it. I felt okay about my appearance, but there was a problem, and it wasn't a small problem. It was a huge one—mammoth. I had a rather large piece of heavy-duty spandex that I needed to dispose of, and nowhere to do so. I balled it up in my hands, wishing it was small enough to go down the toilet. There was no chance of that. No chance of it going unnoticed in the trashcan either. It was not a small garment, and would have taken up about half of the teeny trashcan that was in the bathroom. I felt a cold sweat hit me as it sank in that I was about to get caught with a girdle.

I looked to the ceiling hopelessly, and when I did, I noticed that there was about a foot of space between the top of the cabinets and the ceiling. There was no way to reach the top, so I decided to toss the garment up there and hope for the best. I stood where I could get the best angle, and made an underhand toss. It was a good shot, but only half of the garment stayed up there… the rest of it dangled precariously over the edge.

I had to get it down and try again, so I jumped, trying to grab the edge of the shoulder strap that was hanging the lowest. Just as I was in mid air on my first jump, I thought I heard a knock on the door. I landed, wide-eyed, and waited to see if the knock would come again. I realized after a minute of listening that the knock had come from the bedroom door and Isaac was taking care of it.

I jumped again, trying to land silently. It took me about three jumps to grab it, but I finally did. I felt a wave of relief that lasted until I realized that I pulled down a ton of dust and debris off with it. Chunks of gross things like dust bunnies and hair fell onto my face, and I sputtered and swatted at the unwanted surprise. I dusted myself off and tried to keep my cool even though my nerves were shot. Two ponytail holders and an unused condom fell from the top of the cabinet with the dust bunnies, and if I hadn't been so frustrated, I would have laughed.

I took a deep, calming breath and made one last toss, aiming for the space between the cabinet and the ceiling. I was just desperate enough to put the right amount of force behind my toss this time, and it landed where you couldn’t really see it unless you knew it was there. I threw the condom and hair ties in the trashcan and put a handful of toilet paper over it for cover. I looked around the bathroom making sure there was no evidence of my episode, and then I checked my face and teeth one last time.

I dug in my pocket for my phone. I figured I'd check it once before I went back out there. I had a text from both my mom and Naomi, but neither of them was urgent, and both of them knew I stunk at returning texts promptly anyway. Out of sheer habit, I opened Instagram before putting my phone away. Because I had done it out of habit I had my finger poised to close out the app just as soon as it opened.

However, I did not close it as planned. Instead, I stared down at the most recent post in my feed in disbelief. It was the picture I'd taken with Isaac only a minute ago. We were both smiling at the camera while holding onto each other.

@newyork_nicky had a caption to go with his picture that said, "Couldn't be happier right now." As if that wasn't enough, it was followed by hashtags that said, #magiceyes and #wantakiss

I stared down at it wondering how I'd been tossed into this surreal whirlwind. Was I seriously the one in that picture? I gawked at it, unable to fathom it was me. The weirdest part was that I didn't look as bad as I thought I would next to him—I maybe even looked like I belonged there.

A few comments had already come in, and I read two or three of them, but after seeing one that said, "Whyyy is this not meeee?" with a string of crying emojis after it, I decided that looking at comments wasn't a good idea.

I knew I didn't need any more excitement after that whole Spanx debacle. I turned off my phone, stuck it in my back pocket, and headed into the bedroom.

Chapter 12

Isaac

Who was this girl named Rebecca Gibson and how did she have this kind of power over me? The instant she closed the bathroom door, I posted the photo I'd just taken to my Instagram account. I stared at it for a few seconds after I posted it, wondering what it was about her that made me feel like this.

I absentmindedly thought there must be some sort of scientific reason for it, like maybe primitively I thought we might have beautiful offspring. I laughed at the idea since my life was spent around models and I'd never felt like that. Becca's face had a precious innocence to it that most girl's lacked. I wasn't sure if her big eyes and pillowy lips gave her that appearance, or if she was actually innocent.

Either way, she did it for me. Everything about her made everything about me come alive. The first thing I noticed was her face, but the more I got to know her, the more I loved her personality. I found myself dreading the moment when I was no longer in her presence—a feeling that was foreign and perhaps a little scary. I'd come up in a rough neighborhood in Philadelphia with a poor mom and no dad. I had to make a way for my mom and little sister from an early age. I was accustomed to being in control, and didn't usually put myself into situations where I felt like I wasn't.

Yet there I was, feeling somewhat out of control with Becca. If I gave a number value to the amount that a girl was in my head, so to speak, Becca's number would far surpass any other. I'd had several crushes over the years but no girl had managed to penetrate my brain the way she seemed to. If Becca was a ten, then her closest contender may be a seven. I didn't even know—could barely even remember if there had been anyone else before her.

I was standing near the door contemplating all of this when Shane knocked on it, startling me. I cracked it open and stared out at him. He wore a skeptical expression.

"What?" I asked since he didn't bother to say why he knocked.

He held up his phone. "Don't
what
me. You know what."

I stared at him like I had no idea what he was talking about, so he continued.

"That photo you just posted."

"What about it?"

He tried to peek around me to look in the bedroom but I moved so he couldn't see anything.

"Who's that girl?"

"She's the one who brought the flowers to the photo shoot earlier."

"I know that, Isaac, but what is she doing here?"

"We're hanging out." I paused. "What's the problem? You're the one who makes me post photos with girls."

"Yeah, but those were just pictures of you partying. That one you posted just now may as well have been a fucking wedding invitation."

I flinched and made a disapproving sound. "You don't know what you're talking about. We're just having fun. She's a cool girl."

Shane stared at me with an earnest expression that begged me to understand how much he meant what he was about to say. "Listen to me, Isaac, we've had this talk before, but I feel like I need to say it again right now. You're enjoying a certain lifestyle that is directly dependent on you being hot and single."

Normally, I would have just agreed with him to get him off my case, but this time I couldn't make any promises. "My job isn't dependent on me being single," I said.

He sighed and put his forehead in his hand. "Isaac, I want you to listen to me right now. Do yourself a favor and don't let this go any further. We leave for New York in two days, and won't be back to L.A. for months. Do not, I repeat,
do not
get attached to this girl."

"I don't understand what your problem is. I talk to girls all the time."

He leveled me with a stare. "You know you're acting different."

"No I'm not."

"Isaac, seriously… don't get attached. I'm begging you. You'll hate yourself."

I smiled as if to assure him I had everything under control and began to slowly close the door. He continued to speak as the door was closing. "It would change your life, and not for the better. You'll thank me later. Don't do it."

I closed the door and heard him retreat to the living room. My first thought was that I was glad she hadn't been right next to me when that conversation happened. As I leaned against the wall, my next thought was that I'd be leaving in two days.

Tomorrow night would be our last night in L.A., and we would fly out early the following day. I only allowed the thought to enter my mind for the briefest of seconds. I'd have to deal with saying goodbye to her when the time came. Right now was all we had, and I was going to make it count regardless of Shane's warning.

I took off my zip-up hoodie and hung it in the closet. I was wearing a T-shirt at the moment, but giving some serious consideration to taking it off. I stared at my reflection wondering what would increase my irresistibility. I ran a hand through the patch of long hair on the top of my head, and made sure it fell in the right direction.

I heard her open the bathroom door, and I crossed the room to meet her when she came around the corner. She gasped and smiled in surprise at the sight of me advancing on her. I scooped her into my arms and turned around one time.

"Oh my God, Isaac, put me down," she squealed in hushed tones. I stopped turning, but held her captive in my arms, not letting her feet touch the ground. Her expression was something akin to fear.

"Seriously, put me down. You're gonna break your back." I stared at her, confused and she stretched, trying to get her feet to touch the ground. "Please, Isaac, I'm gonna hurt you," she said. She seemed genuinely scared.

"You can't hurt me Rebecca. I lift weights every single day of my life. You're like a freaking feather to me." I smiled that she actually seemed to think she was hurting me. "I have duffel bags that are heavier than you and I carry three of them at a time." She sighed. I could tell she was truly uncomfortable with being hoisted up in my arms, so I let her down. "I'm only setting you down because it looks like that's what you want," I said. "But I'd much rather hang on to you."

She took a relieved, shaky breath as her feet touched the ground. I let her stand, but I didn't let go of the tight grip I had on her waist. "You posted that picture on Instagram," she noted.

"Why were you in there looking at Instagram instead of being out here where you belong?"

"Obviously you were on it too," she said.

"I liked that picture."

"I liked it too. It looked good in black and white."

"I'm not sharing your eyes. Not yet at least."

"Well, I must say I'm honored to make your Instagram."

"Did you see what I wrote?" I asked. Her hair was put up, but several pieces had fallen around her face and I tucked one of them behind her ear. I wanted to move quickly, but made myself hold back—made myself appreciate her with my eyes before jumping in to something that would no doubt escalate to the point of no return.

"You wrote that you're happy," she said, shyly, sinking her precious, soft face into my chest.

"What else?" I asked.

She didn't answer right away, and I gave her a shake.

"You said sweet things," she said.

"What were they?"

"One was about my eyes."

"What was the other one?"

She looked up and smiled tentatively at me. It seemed like she was begging me to take care of her heart, and I wanted to assure her I would. "

It said that you wanted to—"

Before she could say the word kiss, I touched my mouth to hers. Her lips were warm and soft, and I was so thirsty for them I could barely breathe. I wanted to deepen the kiss so badly, but made myself hold back. I pulled back after a few gentle contacts.

"That's what it said," she said.

"What?"

"The hashtag. It said you wanted to ki—"

And I put my lips on hers again before she could get out the word. We kissed a little bit longer this time, but nothing more than lip-to-lip contact.

"You're asking for it," I said, smiling and pulling back to stare down at her.

"Is this real, Isaac? Am I really here with you?"

"I hope so, otherwise we're both crazy."

She drew air into her lungs in a deep breath that made it seem like she was contemplating things. She stared up at me through her full, dark lashes. "I'm not good at this kind of thing, but I like you and I want you to know I'm sort of up for whatever you have in mind." She sighed again, but continued, "And I don't want you to think I'm gonna get too attached because I know what your friend was saying was true. I know my role in this situation, and I want you to know I'm okay with it."

"I don't know if I like you being okay with it," I said.

She cocked her head at me.

"Don't say shit like that," I continued. "I don't like you talking about how
unattached
you are to me."

She smiled. "Oh, you want me to
act
like I'm attached? I can do that." She gave me a little wink and I shook my head.

"No, not really."

"What then?"

I almost told her I wanted her to really be attached to me—that I wanted her attached to me in every way possible.

"Just act like yourself," I said instead.

She cupped her cold hands around my face. "Myself wants to kiss you again."

"That's ideal because that's what myself wants too."

"Well, tell you to kiss me, then," she said.

We stood in the middle of the room, kissing and talking and teasing each other for the next few minutes. It was exquisitely torturous to hold back from tossing her onto the bed and ripping her clothes off. I knew she wanted me as badly as I wanted her. I knew our evening would end the way I hoped it would, but I drew it out—made us both wait for it.

Finally, I broke contact with her and walked the few steps to the foot of the bed where I took a seat. I grabbed the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head, tossing it to the ground once I got it off. She stood there and stared at my chest for a minute before letting her gaze meet my eyes.

"This is incredibly tempting," she said.

I smiled. "Good. Take your shirt off."

"What?"

"You heard me. I took mine off—it's only fair."

She hesitated. "I don't look like that," she said, gesturing to me.

I smiled. "I hope not."

"What I mean is that I go to the gym for maintenance not advanced sculpting lessons. Can we at least turn the lights out or something?"

I gestured for her to come to me, and she obeyed, crossing the gap between us. As soon as she stood next to me, I reached for the bottom of her shirt. I lifted it over her head, much the same as I'd done my own. She shrugged out of it and let it fall to the ground beside her. She stared down shyly as if being on display was sheer torture for her. As someone who pranced around shirtless for money, I couldn’t understand why she seemed so reluctant.

"You have a beautiful body, baby girl. Why are you being so shy?" I was sitting on the bed, and she stood between my legs. I squeezed her.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm just new to this."

I pulled her onto my lap. Over the next hour, we transitioned from her sitting on my knee, to stretching out next to each other on the bed. We kissed and talked and learned secrets about one another. Eventually, our gentle kisses deepened, and what was at first small, almost innocent contacts turned into something altogether different. Our bodies began to pulse with a slow rhythm as we let the tension build between us. As the pace picked up, we began to grope at each other, taking needy handfuls of skin and pulling each other closer.

I had to feel her skin on mine or I was going to come unglued. "Take off your pants," I said, finally. At the same time, I rolled over and shed mine. By the time we both rolled over, we were completely naked. I held her tightly and she molded her body to mine. "Let me look at you," I said. She stretched out onto her back, and I sat up next to her, using my hand for support.

She watched me look at her. By the time my gaze made it back to her face, she was staring at me expectantly. I knew she was mine for the taking—I could tell simply by the way she breathed. I took her taught nipple into my mouth, and she arched upward. I put my hand between her thighs and put some pressure there. She met my pressure with her own, arching into my hand. I allowed the tip of one finger to slip past her opening, and she moaned with pleasure.

Within a minute, I was slipping on a condom. It was the first time I was annoyed by having to use one, but it wasn't really an option. That was something I didn't compromise on, no matter how much I loved the… did I just think the word love?

That thought should have probably scared me, but it had me even more intent on getting inside her. We'd taken our time getting around to it, and by the time I entered her, my desire was so great, it was hard to be gentle. Her hips rose as I pushed inside, inviting me to go deeper. Her eyes were closed.

"Are you okay?" I asked. She opened her eyes and smiled up at me before pulling the clip out of her hair. "I think it's the best night ever," she said smiling.