that if she tired of him, she could send him packing, and he’d have someplace to stay, even in the dark of night.
So far, though, she hadn’t seemed to mind his near-constant presence in her life and home. So far, he hadn’t experienced a single moment of regret for the choice to stay there.
Nothing was keeping him in Los Angeles, not until he picked another role, and he hadn’t done that yet, despite the ever-more-anxious emails sent by his faithful agent. April’s apartment was more comfortable than his house, if significantly smaller and less expensively furnished, and his filming schedule had kept him away from LA for months at a time before. The extended absence didn’t bother him. The Bay Area, despite its painful associations for him, had always felt more like home than Southern California anyway.
His current location also offered a certain amount of extra protection from paparazzi, who would travel north from LA for exclusive pics of a television star with his new girlfriend, but only grudgingly and for short periods of time.
Most importantly, staying in the area meant he now knew April hit snooze two times every morning. He’d memorized how her hazy brown eyes finally, reluctantly, blinked open in the warm glow of dawn as she stretched in bed, her hair tousled and her soft body shifting against his. He understood how the scent of her changed after one of her infrequent days on a job site, from roses in the morning to sweat and earth in the evening. He’d tasted her skin after one of those site visits, and after a lazy, shared weekend shower, and after she’d cried while reading a particularly bittersweet fic and he’d erased her tears with his mouth.
Staying meant he could spend his weekday mornings reading scripts and writing fics to post under a new name, before shopping for food and working out at the hotel gym in the afternoon. Staying meant making her dinner in the evenings. Making her laugh. Making her come.
Any mockery he might receive he considered well worth the reward.
“Can’t say I blame you for settling in,” Alex added. “Looks like a very comfortable lap.”
At that, Marcus narrowed his eyes at his friend. He hadn’t missed the swift but appreciative glance Alex had given April upon meeting her earlier that afternoon, or the way she’d blushed and almost giggled upon shaking Alex’s hand.
She hadn’t blushed and giggled when she’d met Marcus, he knew that for a fact.
Clearly he needed to find a less handsome best friend. That was the only sensible solution. Especially since said best friend was staying overnight in April’s apartment as their first joint guest, which now seemed an unwise decision.
Alex’s grin had only grown more obnoxious, and he held up his hands in feigned surrender. “No need to scowl at me like that, dude. I was stating an objective fact, not indicating any desire to climb into your lap of choice.” He snorted. “Besides, when it comes to female company, there’s no room at the inn. I’m full up.”
Excellent. “Lauren?”
As if Marcus didn’t know. Alex had been bitching nonstop about his assigned minder for weeks via text and email and occasional phone calls. At some point, Marcus expected a carrier pigeon to arrive at April’s apartment with a note strapped to its ankle reading goddammit lauren is such a fucking dour millstone. Or maybe a telegram instead: lauren says two drinks max stop which is unfair because she’s so short i could just rest my beer on her head stop.
“Who else? I’m surprised she let me visit you this weekend without requiring hourly reports as to my good behavior.” Alex flopped back against the sofa and glared in the direction of the front door. “R.J. and Ron directed her to keep watch over me anytime I’m outside my home, and the stupid woman is too stubborn to acknowledge she’s being exploited.”
That was a new line of argument. “How so?”
“Today is her first day off in weeks. And you know I don’t sleep well, so I tend to leave the house at odd hours, and I’m required to let her know when I do, which means she doesn’t sleep well, and . . .” Alex had crossed one ankle over his opposite knee, and his foot was jiggling, jiggling, jiggling. Not surprising, given his ADHD and accompanying tendency to fidget, but the movement seemed especially agitated today. “She looks tired.”
Marcus raised his eyebrows. “Does she?”
“She considers you a good influence, apparently. At least