Three Months and You're Mine (In Too Deep) (14 page)

Chapter 14

Zack

"Go lock the door," I said.

She looked at me like I was speaking Chinese.

"Get up and go lock it," I repeated. "My mom never remembers to knock, and I'm not trying to have her walk in and see you with your hand on—"

"Okay, okay, I'll lock it, but won't it be kind of weird if she catches us in here with the door locked? Won't that give us away?"

"I don't care if she knows what we're doing, I just don't want her to see it."

"Oh, God Zack, I'm scared. I don't want your parents to think I'm some kind of—"

"Meredith, I'm twenty-four years old. I own a home. I can have a girl rub on my Johnson if it suits me. Just go lock the door."

Her eyes widened, but she obeyed, standing and crossing the room to lock the door without making a sound. She came back to sit on the bed next to me. "So, is it safe to assume that I'm the lucky girl who gets to rub on your Johnson?"

I smiled. "If that's not your thing then, you don't have to. I just didn't want my mom at the party, I'm sure you understand."

"Oh, it's my thing. I just thought we still had a couple of months before—"

"We do. Have a couple more months, I mean. I didn't say we were… there's no way I'd be able to physically, it'd be really hard to, uh, I thought we could just mess around a little."

She flashed me a mischievous smile. "I like how you think," she said.

For some reason, that smile made me curious about her
and her dating habits. I wanted to know how many guys had been on the other end of it. She had said she wanted me to teach her a few things, but her self-assurance had me feeling like she had more experience than she let on.

"How many guys have you been with, Meredith?"

The question took her by surprise. She thought about her answer for what had to be a full minute. I assumed she was trying to count, and I was beginning to think I probably wouldn't be able to teach her anything.

"None."
Her voice was soft and vulnerable when she said it. What's more was that she appeared to be totally serious.

"What's that mean?"

"It could only mean one thing, as far as I know."

I used my hands to straighten and sit upright. "Are you serious?"

She nodded.

"You're a—"

She nodded.

I couldn't just leave it like that. Someone had to say the word before I could feel comfortable believing this new information. I turned her toward me by the shoulders, and looked into her eyes.

"You're a virgin?"

"Yes, Zack, I'm a virgin. I wasn't sure if I should tell you or not. And obviously by the way I'm losing you here, I should have just kept my mouth shut."

All I could think was, Collin Blake is going to murder me in my sleep if I sleep with his sweet, little virgin sister. Then I took a few seconds to take her in and thought she just might be worth being murdered over.

"It'
s really not that big of a deal," she said in an agitated tone. "I've been with guys in other ways. I'm not totally sheltered."

"I didn’t' say you were sheltered, but I'm just not sure I'm the right person for an, uh, honor such as that."

She threw her hands in the air. "I should have known you'd make a big deal about it. I just haven't gotten that far with anyone because I
stop liking the guy
before we have the chance to do it. The only reason I asked you was because I knew I could trust you, and I knew you knew what you were doing. I wanted to learn how to do it like a pro so I could get jobs in show business."

"I know you're not planning on sleeping with people at that soap opera to try to get a role on the show."

"No, I mean, I
thought
about it. That was my plan at first, but I'm pretty confident that I'll be able to work my way up the real way. Not just as an actress either. In fact, I might forget that dream altogether. I think I might have a lot to offer on the set of a TV show. It feels natural to me. Anyway, my plan was to seduce anyone who could help me climb the ladder, but now I'm feeling pretty good about climbing it by myself."

"So does that mean you don't need me to teach you anymore?"

"Of course I still want you to teach me. Why else would I be here? Listen, you've got to get it out of your head the whole virgin thing is so special. If it's not you, it'll be someone else. I want to learn about sex. Are you in or are you out?"

Several things about that comment stung.
Why else would I be here was the first place
, and
if it's not you, it'll be someone else,
stood out as highlights.

"Ouch."

"Oh come on. Don't act like you want more than that with me, Zack."

"You're right, I guess. I just hate to think of it as a business transaction."

"You should take comfort in
that exact thing
."

"I'm
gonna show you a thing or two about providing me comfort, Miss Blake."

She
smiled and got wide eyed with excitement. "You mean right now?"

I smiled and she looked down at my la
p as she reached out and put an extremely tentative hand on the bulge in my pants, gently cupping her hand around it.

"Okay, now what you're trying to do is mimic the motion it would experience if it was, uh, in your, you know. So you're recreating that motion, but it's best if you start sort of slow. Provide a little build-up, if you will. You'll get more and more comfortable with that stuff as you get more experience.
" I smiled and reached up to rub her head. "I was just messing around when I said you were gonna pleasure me, though. We're not in a hurry. I'm okay with keeping it in my pants for now. I just wanted you to feel for yourself that everything's in working order down there?"

"You mean
all I get to do is touch you through your pants? Can you still get off like that?"

"I think it happe
ned one time in ninth grade, but it's not ideal. I wasn't planning on letting that happen tonight anyway. I'm sticking with the three months. Especially now that I know you're a—"

"Two."

"Two what?"

"There's
like sixty-five days left on the bargain. That's closer to two months than three."

"
I can't believe you know the days, that's cute. I don't mind messing around, but we'll have to keep it PG if I'm gonna stick to the original agreement, and I think it's only wise that we do. Just to make sure you still think it's a good idea."

She shrugged. "I can tell you right now that I will, without a doubt, still want to have sex with you at the end of three months. But I'm also okay with
taking it slow. Especially with the…" She gestured at my leg. She looked into my eyes and gave me a shy half-smile. "Can I touch it? I'll be a good girl and not ask you to
see
it, but I'd like to touch it again if you'll let me."

Oh God, yes! Yes please touch it. In fact, there are about a hundred ways I'd like you to
be touching it right now
. I didn’t say it, though; I just thought it. What could I say? I wasn't going to deny the girl what seemed like such a reasonable request. I nodded my approval.

She rested her hand lightly around my shaft again. It was hanging to the right and she gently stroked my length through the fabric of my sweatpants.
I closed my eyes and took a labored breath.
How sad would it be if I lost it in my drawers like high school?

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay. I'm good. It feels good."

"Can I kiss you?"

"If you want to."

She moved closer to me until our faces were close enough for our breath to mingle.

"I want to," she said.
She leaned in the rest of the way until our mouths made contact. I absolutely loved the feel of her lips. She began to stroke me through my pants again while continuing the kiss. The feel of her tongue teasing mine made me want to surge forward, forcing my shaft into her hand, but I refrained, reminding myself we needed to go slow. She kept rubbing, somehow knowing how to apply the perfect amount of pressure for it to feel good through my pants.

During the course of our kiss, my piece went from hanging to the right, to standing at full attention. It was still being forced to lie to the side since it was under my pants, but the difference in the position and firmness was obvious. She'd been stroking it the whole time we kissed, and when we came up for air, she looked down at my lap.  "Dang, Zack. I thought you were excited a few minutes ago."

"Shoot girl," I looked down at my erection as it strained against my pants, "This ain't even all I got."

Her eyes got wide. "Can I please look at it? I won't touch it. I just want to see what it looks like
under there."

I gave her a resigned nod, knowing she
was too stubborn to give up. She moved the hem of my T-shirt out of the way before carefully lifting the elastic of my sweatpants. She was staring at my member when I made it jerk a little bit. The movement startled her, and she looked at me as if to ask if it was okay that it moved on it's own. I smiled and she took that as confirmation that there was nothing to worry about.

"I'm not just saying this to flatter you, but I seriously
like
how that thing looks. Can I touch it?"

I so desperately wanted to take her up on that offer, but I couldn't let myself do it. I had to take
it slow. "I want to let you do that. You have no idea how badly I want to, but we should really be patient. I already let things go further than I wanted. I think you charmed me when you weren't totally disgusted with my face."

Her head snapped around to look at me. "Don't you
ever
let me hear you talking bad about that scar again. I love that thing. I even like it with the tape. Imagine how I'll feel once that stuff's gone."

"It'll probably look darker once the tape's off."

"Oh please. Quit trying to talk me out of it. I like your scar. Get over it."

She'd sat up and was perched on the edge of my bed. I could tell by her posture that she'd be leaving soon.

"You heading out?"

"I really should be getting home. I'm putting together a few ideas to present to Max Mitchell."

"Ideas for the show?"

"Yeah."

"Like what?"

"Just a few things I've noticed that might help things run a little bit smoother around there. I have this idea for a story line too. I know they already
have things mapped out, and I'm sure he'll just humor me then throw it away, but it's worth a shot."

"I think it's great that you
're putting something together. I'm sure most people in your position just show up for their jobs and go home."

"They do. In fact, most of them are pissed at me for putting any thought into the job at all. Even this guy Kermit who
's really good and loves the show tries to discourage me from thinking I could change things."

I
touched her hand. "The world is full of people who'd rather try to discourage you than do something for themselves. You'll do better not to pay attention to them."

"So you're saying you believe in me?"

"Are you kidding? I'm a fan from way back."

She beamed at me. "The feeling's mutual, so you better keep working so you can get back on your feet."

"Here's to making things happen, then."

"You know it," s
he said, standing up to leave. "I have a meeting with Max this Friday. I'll let you know what he says."

"I know you'll do great."

"Thanks."

She leaned over and placed a kiss on my cheek. It seemed slightly awkward since we'd just kissed on the mouth several times, but neither of us made a move to go for more. She left the room and I heard her footsteps as she went down the hall. Seconds
later I also heard her talking to my mom, although all I could make out was a low murmur of their voices. She stayed for a few minutes before I heard the close of the door behind her.

My mom came in
less than a minute later to get the scoop. Even though I'd had other female visitors since the accident, my mom never assumed I had anything going on with the others. She was full of questions about Meredith, though, asking me what she was doing living in L.A., and why she'd come to see me twice already without her brother. I artfully dodged her questions, never indicating that I was interested, but never denying it either. I went to sleep thinking about Meredith Blake that night and hoping she'd make something of herself at that soap opera. I always loved an underdog story, and I thought Meredith had enough tenacity to beat the odds in show business.

Chapter 15

Meredith

That Friday,
I had a meeting with my boss, Max Mitchell, and can I just say… I knocked it out of the freaking park! I'd only been working on the show for two weeks, but I had instincts with production that I felt shouldn't be ignored. I spent the better part of the last week putting together notes and ideas. Some of the things I brought up were small, like ways to make hair and makeup flow better simply by switching the seating arrangements. Other things were bigger, like story lines. I had an idea for a Wentworth family reunion that would be the perfect way to introduce this character who'd turn out to be a love interest for Ashton.

Some of the things I said would inevitably get swept under the rug, but Max really liked my insights, and didn't hesitate to tell me I'd be moving up the ranks quickly if I kept up the same level of hustle. I was on cloud nine as I drove home from work that day. I listened to loud music and sang at the top of my lungs, not even caring that I was stuck in traffic for an hour.

I had plans to hang out with my brother and Rachel and all of their friends that night. We were
getting together at Gretchen's house. She had a game room where we could play pool or darts. Collin said they tried to get together once a month or so, and usually they did it at Joel and Gretchen's since their house was the biggest.

I was hoping Zack would grace us with his presence that night. I knew it was a long shot, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I
thought he might show up. I wanted to tell him how my meeting went, and it would have been so nice to do it in person. I knew everyone else would be excited for me, but I was really looking forward to telling Zack.

Zack didn't show up. All night, I expected him to come rolling in or walking in on crutches or however he was getting around, but he never
came. I knew he could have physically made it to Gretchen's house, and the fact that he chose
not
to stop by made me feel a little irritated with him. Maybe I was just mad because I
wanted
to see him and hoped he wanted to see me too, but I assumed if that were the case, he would have sent me a text by then anyway.

I got madder and madder as the evening went on. At first, I was upset that he wasn't showing up to Gretchen's, and then I started feeling hurt that he hadn't even remembered to send me a message asking how my meeting went.

I went to bed angry with him that night, and didn't really feel much better the whole next day. It was Saturday, and I had plans to go out with Chelsea from work. She and I had gone out the previous weekend as well, and I was having a good time getting in trouble with her.

She and I had plans to meet up at one of her friend's house. She didn't tell me that her friend was an old, eccentric millionaire who liked to have young people over to party. Once I arrived,
and started looking to her for answers, she told me she liked to start her evening at Mike's if he was having a party because there were so many drugs going around. She was right. I was offered three different things during the first hour.

Chelsea, who was absolutely crazy, ingested or smoked everything that was passed to her. I wasn't quite that brave (or stupid), and only popped one pill. The guy who gave it to me said it wouldn't mess me up to
o bad, but an hour later, I found myself lost, wandering around his house with no idea where Chelsea was. Come to think of it, I didn't know where
anything
was.

I patted my sides, checking for my purse, and was relieved to find it securely strapped to my
shoulder. I dug through it, feeling like my fingers were somewhat numb and clumsy. When I finally retrieved my phone, I stared down at it, thankful for the sense of familiarity in the drug-induced chaos that was happening in my brain. I got an email from Macy's saying they were doing a friends and family sale, and I clicked on the link underneath a photo of a pair of boots I thought were cute. I stared at the boots in chestnut brown for a few long seconds and even had time to picture them with an outfit before I realized I was lost from my friend at a weird guy's house. I looked up from my phone and took in my surroundings. How had I ended up in the kitchen? And how would I ever spot Chelsea in this ever-lovin sea of people? I'm not sure how long it took to hit me that I had a phone in my hand and I could just call her. One thing about Chelsea was that she answered her phone no matter what, and right then I was so thankful that I could depend on her to pick up. It took me way too long to find her number in my contacts, but once I accomplished that task, I pressed the button to call and put the phone to my ear.

Chelsea: "What are you doing? Are you still at this, give that back you little fucker.
" I heard a thump and then, "Hello, Meredith? Are you still at this party? It's my friend. Shut up!"

Me: "Hello, Chelsea? I'm still at the party. Are you?" I had a finger in my other ear in an effort to hear her over the noise. Or maybe that noise was in my head. Either way, it was noisy. "Chelsea?"

Chelsea: "Yeah, it's me. Where are you?" 

It took Chelsea and I a really long time to find each other even though turns out we were only one room apart the whole time.

"Where in the world were you?" she asked. I could tell by the way she swayed instead of just standing still that she was really messed up. I wondered if I was as blasted as her and I looked down, giving myself a once-over just to be sure. I thought I must surely be better off than Chelsea, and I took some comfort in that idea alone.

Looking back, I should have known how messed up I was. I should have just called it a night and made an effort to get home. But I caught sight of this guy a few feet away who was all tatted up. When I say he was tatted up, I mean just about all of his exposed skin was covered in ink. Even totally sober, I loved the looks of tattoos, but in the state I was in
right then, I absolutely
loved
, was
over the moon
about that guy's tattoos.

Upon closer inspection, I could
see that he had the word freedom in script on his neck. I'd always liked neck tattoos and that one looked especially sexy on him. I also really identified with the word freedom and maybe it was the drugs, but with the way that tattoo was hitting me right then, I felt like it was a sign from God that I should get the word freedom tattooed on my neck.

I looked to Chelsea.

"Come with me to get a tattoo."

"What like right now?" she asked.

"I was thinking about it. Why? Do you think it's a bad idea?"

"N
o, I think it be a freaking awesome idea. I just don't know if anyone here can do anything like that."

"Well I wouldn't be getting anyone here to do it now would I?
I said
come
with me to get a tattoo. Did you think I wanted to go in the bathroom with a Bic pen and a sewing needle?"

"Shut up!"
Chelsea said. I could tell she was embarrassed, but she was too messed up to care for very long.

"We have to go to a tattoo shop."

"Okay, I'm in. What are you gonna get?"

"I'm getting the word freedom."

"Nice. Where?"

"I don’t know.
I was hoping you'd know a place."

"How about on your butt cheek?"

"What? Oh, I get it. I thought you meant
where
I was getting it, as in what tattoo shop. That's what I was hoping you could help me with. I know where on my body I'm getting it."

"Where?"

"On my neck."

"Like that dude?" she pointed at my inspiration.

"Yeah. What do you think?"

"I think it's
an awesome idea you little hot mamacita."

"Really? You do? You
wanna go do it?"

"Hell yeah. We have to find a shop that's open."

Chelsea and I managed to find a shop that was not only open but also willing to take a walk in. We promised the guy we were on our way and left the party immediately. I drove, which might have been a stupid thing to do, but we somehow made it to the tattoo shop in one piece. I told the tattooer what I wanted, and chose a font similar to the script I'd seen on the guy at the party. It was going to be roughly an inch and a half tall and four inches wide, wrapping from the side of my neck to the front.

He asked me ten or twelve times if I was fully committed to getting a tattoo on such an obvious part of my body, and Chelsea helped me reassure him that it was a good idea. She told him I'd been talking about it for months even though I'd only known her for a couple of weeks and
had come up with the idea of getting the tattoo tonight.

Anyway, after some convincing, she managed to get him to leave me alone with the questions. He said the work would cost $280, which seemed a little steep, but what other option did I have in the middle of the night?
I told him I only had $230 in cash on me. It was the truth, but I was also hoping he'd say he'd do the work for less. I knew they didn't take credit cards, so I expected him to say $230 would cover it. He didn’t say that. Instead, he told me I could walk around the corner to the ATM while he finished setting up.

Chelsea came with me.

"I can't believe he's charging me two hundred and eighty dollars for that," I said, on the way to get cash. 

"Is that a lot?"

"It seems like it. I mean, that's not a really big tattoo."

"Yeah, but it's on your neck. Maybe that's harder to operate on."

"It's not an operation."

"Whatever. He is sort of hot, don't you think? In a sort of dirty way, you know. He's all mean and mysterious."

I honestly hadn't noticed how mean or mysterious the guy was; I just knew he was charging me three hundred Goddang dollars for a tattoo. Maybe that
did
make him mean. I keyed in my pin number and the rest of the information the machine needed, and waited for my cash. We were in downtown Los Angeles, and even though it was the middle the night, there were people passing us on the sidewalk as I used the ATM.

"Hey, I know you," a voice said from behind me. I turned to see a guy who's face did indeed look familiar, although I couldn't for the life of me figure out where I seen him. "You were in a limousine with my friend Zack."

My initial reaction to hearing a guy's voice from behind me while I was holding cash at an ATM was that I was just about to be robbed, so it took me a second to trust him enough to make sense of the words he said.
When was I in a limo with a Zack? And who's this guy who thinks he saw me there? But wait, I was in a limo with Zack the night of our birthday. Oh yeah, this guy must be his friend who peeked in and talked about those girls Zack was partying with. I didn't think I liked him very much.

"Logan.
My name's Logan. Remember? I tried to get Zack to stay out with me that night? Zack's my boy."

"
He got in an accident that night," I said without thinking.

"I know that,
Kitty Cat. It was all over the news. How's he doing? Is he your man?"

Chelsea looked at me with great interest.

"No," I said. "We're just friends, and he's doing good as far as I know."

"That's good, that's good. So, uh, what are you two beautiful ladies doing
roaming the streets by yourselves?"

I couldn't really remember why we were roaming the streets exactly, but I was sure it was going to be fun.

"Meredith's getting a tattoo," Chelsea said.

Oh yeah, that's right.

"
Yep, I'm getting a tattoo."

"Aw, that's too bad because I'm meeting my friend Thad who's
got the good stuff tonight."

I was reasonably sure by goo
d stuff he meant more drugs, but my head was swimming already, courtesy of the mystery pill.

Chelsea must have liked the idea of getting the good stuff, whatever that was, or she just liked Logan because she got all giggly and flirty. "You want to come with us to get her tattoo before we hook up with your friend?" she asked.

"Na, I'm not about to sit in a tattoo shop all night even if you two are on fiya, which you are. Why don't y'all just ditch the tattoo and come with me? My car's two blocks away and Thad's waiting."

"Is he as hot as you?" Chelsea asked, weighing her options.

"I can't tell you whether or not he's hot because that would be kind of gay, but I will tell you we share a lot of girls, and none of them have complaints about how Thad looks."

Chelsea looked at me as if she couldn't imagine a harder choice than the one we had in fr
ont of us at that very moment—neck tattoo, or Logan with the good stuff? I shrugged, feeling like I could go either way.

After some brief deliberation, and the news that Logan drove a nice car, I made the call to go with him instead of getting the tattoo. I
made that choice partly because I thought he was really cute, and partly because the tattoo guy's warnings had started to sink in and I was slightly reluctant to go through with the tattoo. Chelsea was really into the idea of me getting it, so I was going to go through with it, but honestly, having Logan as an excuse was somewhat a relief.