I made my way to the conference room doors and just as I was almost there, I heard my name shrieked. I turned around and there was a twenty-something blonde jumping up and down and pulling her friend's arm. "Oh my God!" she yelled. "Carson Stinger, I LOVE you!" Then she ran over to me and pulled her shirt all the way up, exposing her tits. "Sign me!" she demanded, sticking a sharpie pen in my face.
I managed a smile and took the pen from her. I scrawled my name across her br**sts and handed the pen back. "Thanks for the support." I smiled and started to walk off.
"Wait!" she yelled. "Will you take a picture with me?"
I sighed. "Sure," I said, walking back to her and putting my arm around her shoulders. She pulled her shirt back up to expose my signature, as her friend snapped a picture.
I nodded and smiled at them both again and as I turned, I heard her friend whisper to her, "Grab his dick so you can say you felt up Carson Stinger."
I felt them both come up behind me and turned toward them saying, "Whoa, ladies, I appreciate your fan support, but no one's grabbing my junk." I tried to laugh it off, shooting them both my most charming smile, that one that always got me what I wanted with women.
They weren't listening to me though, their eyes cast down to my crotch, their hands reaching forward.
"Back off!" I yelled deeply, making them startle and halt their movement and drawing eyes from those standing nearby.
I turned back around and started walking as the blonde yelled after me, "What the hell? You f**k for a living and your dick's suddenly off limits? Whatever ass**le!"
I clenched my jaw and kept walking. When I got out into the hall, I kicked a plant over, dirt spraying over the carpet. I left it there.
I made my way back up to my hotel room and slammed the door behind me and kicked it for good measure, and then sat down on the corner of the bed staring blankly at the wall. I was pissed and I couldn't figure out exactly why. Those girls were bitches, but who f**king cared? Who cared what they thought? Who cared what anyone thought?
A minute later, I heard a click and the room door opened. Grace came in and smiled big at me, her blue eyes softening when she saw me. "Hi, handsome," she said. "Miss me?"
I looked up at her, so beautiful and so sweet, still feeling anger and something like shame swirling through my chest over my "fan" run-in downstairs.
I opened my mouth to say something full of sexual innuendo about exactly what I missed about her, but I snapped my mouth closed. It was like a reflex, but Grace would see right through it so why bother? So what should I do instead? I frowned.
Her face went serious. "Carson? What's wrong?" She came over to me and tilted my chin up with her finger and looked into my face, her eyes searching mine. I didn't answer but wrapped my arms around her and lay my head on her belly, taking in long inhales of her soothing scent.
After a couple seconds, she started running her hands through my hair gently, soothing me further. "Talk to me. What happened?" she asked quietly.
I took in a deep breath and pulled back from her. "Nothing, Grace. I just ran into some bitchy fans from the expo. Just a hazard of the job," I said.
When her eyes skittered away from mine, I knew that she didn't know what to say–my job was probably something she really didn't want to think about. Frankly, it was something I really didn't want to think about either.
"I'm gonna take a quick shower, okay? Then we can get ready for dinner?"
She smiled a small smile at me and nodded. "Okay." She took her hand and brushed a piece of hair off my forehead and then brought her hand to my face and looked into my eyes, telling me everything was okay. I leaned into her and closed my eyes. I didn't really need a shower, but it would give me the time to get into a better head space and let the run-in roll off my back. It was my last night with Grace. I'd be damned if anything was going to ruin it. Plus, we needed to talk. We needed to figure something out. I couldn't let her go.
CHAPTER 12
Grace
I heard the shower turn on and sat down in the chair at the desk to check my phone and shoot Abby another quick text. I had been sending them to her since I had talked to her and told her about staying with Carson. She wanted to know that I was okay. I didn't blame her–if the positions had been reversed and she was spending the weekend with a stranger, I'd want her to check in frequently too.
Carson hadn't told me exactly what happened with his fans, but he looked disturbed. And truthfully, just hearing about them had me a little disturbed too. I needed to shake it off. This was our last night together and I wanted to enjoy it. I sat biting my lip for a minute. I had enjoyed the presentation downstairs, but my mind had continually wandered to Carson and the fact that we were going to be saying goodbye in the morning. Maybe we could keep in touch somehow? Was that completely stupid and unrealistic? We needed to talk about this, and in a way I looked forward to it, to potentially figuring out a way not to have to say goodbye forever. God, but in a way I dreaded it. I was pretty sure he'd tell me he felt the same way, but what if he didn't? What if he was still planning on the quick, permanent break we had arranged? He had called us "friends." Did he want to remain "friends?" Or did he–
A knock sounded at the door and interrupted my thoughts. The shower was still going so I walked over to it and pulled it open. A middle aged, short, balding man in khakis and a sport coat was standing on the other side. He looked surprised to see me. "Carson here?" he asked, furrowing his brow.