14. Hunter

Playlist: Dips | Daisy the Great

Hunter: help.

Hunter: i’m supposed to shoot our favorite brides this weekend.

Hunter: on sunday

Hunter : in central park

Hunter: all my photographer groups say it’s gonna be swimming with tourists so i told them that and they were like “oh well”??????

Jo: hahaha, that’s becky and kelsey for you.

Hunter: wanna come to the shoot? it’ll make kelsey’s eye twitch and make her look ugly in her pics.

Jo: i’m actually coordinating a wedding at the boathouse, so if you’re over there, i might see you.

Hunter: they want to shoot in multiple locations but wouldn’t specify where besides starting at bethesda fountain.

Jo: yikes. they probably wanna wander and shoot where they decide is pretty that day.

Hunter: yeah, i’m gonna highly encourage them to choose three shooting locations and if we have time we can do more, but walking aimlessly around central park on a weekend with them sounds hellish.

Jo: tell them they’re shooting at bethesda fountain, and the bow and gapstow bridges. Great photo locations, and if they don’t like them, ask them to specify. If they don’t, let me know and i’ll get on them.

Hunter: i’ve shot at those locations before! They’re close to one another, right?

Jo: yup. That’s why i picked them. Less travel time means less time for you to have to talk to them.

Hunter: my god, jo. I could kiss you right now.

Hunter: i mean, i won’t. Cuz that would be weird as fuck.

Hunter: right?

Seen by Jo Quinn.

“Okay, calm down,” I say, wincing as Jo slams the door behind us and walks ahead of me. It’s been a week and a half since book club, and today was the engagement shoot from hell. “It could have been worse.”

I’m just saying that to be nice. It really couldn’t have gone much worse.

“How? Please, tell me how it could have gone worse,” Jo asks, stalking down the hallway to her room without looking back at me. I gingerly place my camera, Loretta, on the kitchen counter before jogging after her.

“Freak snowstorm,” I offer.

Her bedroom door is open, which I take as an invitation to follow her inside. I realize as I look around that even though we’ve lived together for months at this point, I’ve never been in her room until now. It feels intimate. But she’s not kicking me out as she pulls her black blouse over her head and—oh.

Oh.

I should leave, because I’m achy and turned on by the sight of her bare skin. The rolls and bumps of her back and hips, a single freckle on her right shoulder blade, the way her waist delicately curves inward with silver stretch marks etched into her skin.

“The freak snowstorm would have made for gorgeous pictures at least,” Giovanna grumbles as she reaches behind her to unclip her bra. I watch in equal amounts of horror and lust as the black fabric falls to her feet.

Oh god, I think, feeling dizzy.

“Wait, what are you doing in here?” she yelps, spinning to face me and covering her breasts with her hands. Oops, I guess I spoke out loud. I understand what she’s trying to do, but my god, her hands just create incredible cleavage. I want to lick—

“Get. Out,” she seethes as her eyes darken. I’m both terrified and turned on.

“Yep. Got it,” I manage to say, backing out of the doorway and pulling the door closed.

I turn and walk into the living room as images of what Giovanna’s breasts would look like overflowing in my hands swirl in my mind.

I am no better than a straight man.

I squat in front of Dolly Parton’s terrarium.

“Stop looking at me like that,” I tell her.

She blinks.

“Yeah, I know I’m unhinged. Thanks for the reminder.”

She stares at me.

“Okay, no. No, this isn’t a bad idea. This is gonna go fine. I can control my lustful urges fine.”

“Are you talking to the little monster?”

I screech and jump at Giovanna’s voice, spinning to face her. She’s changed into pajama shorts and an oversized I Love New York t-shirt. Her dark waves flow over her shoulders, like a chocolate fountain, and what a coincidence: I deserve a sweet treat.

“You call her little monster like you didn’t feed her breakfast this morning.”

Her cheeks flush pink, like she’s embarrassed to be caught caring for Dolly. “Whatever. We need to talk about…the park incident.”

“Yeah. We fucking do,” I agree, crossing my arms over my chest. “Why did you look like I murdered your dog when we ran into each other?”

“Oh my god, I did not,” Jo argues, scowling at me and mirroring my movement, crossing her own arms over her chest.

“Yeah, you did. And Kelsey’s already texted me the most bullshit backhanded compliments.” I pull my phone out of my back pocket and begin to read. “‘Hey, I know dealing with Jo’s moods and blood sugar is sooooo’—she used five o’s there, by the way—‘exhausting, and I can tell by the dark circles under your eyes that it’s taking its toll on you. Also she doesn’t seem to be herself when you guys are together. I’m here if you need me. Heart emoji, heart emoji, heart emoji, heart emoji, heart emoji.’ That’s right. Five heart emojis.”

I hold my phone out to Giovanna, who takes it and quickly reads the message. “Wow. Five o’s and five heart emojis. Her record with me was three.”

“It’s not funny! I can’t tell which one of us she thinks is the bad guy in our fake relationship, but she definitely doesn’t think we’re happy.”

“Why doesn’t she think we’re happy?”

I throw my hands in the air. “I don’t know, Jo. Maybe because you act like you fucking hate me whenever you see me.”

She looks taken aback. “No, I don’t.”

“You do! You didn’t even acknowledge me when you bumped into us at the boathouse. You were so chatty with Becky and Kelsey and like…you barely looked at me. When you did look at me, it was like I was the last person you wanted there.” I swallow, trying not to show how much it hurt. “We’re supposed to be dating. That’s not how people who are dating act towards each other.”

“I was surprised to see you,” she counters.

“You knew it’d be a possibility since we were both working in the park! You were the one who said it was a possibility, and you still looked at me like you got coal on Christmas morning. And let me tell you, Giovanna, I’m not just saying this as your fake girlfriend, I’m saying it as your roommate, your friend. That was weird as hell.”

Jo’s eyes meet mine, and I’m taken aback by the emotion in them.

“I don’t know how to act around you.” It’s so quiet that I have to ask her to repeat herself. “You’re my fake girlfriend, and I’ve never had a fake girlfriend before.”

“I think the whole point is to not act like I’m your fake girlfriend.”

“I’m your friend?” She asks, suspicion and what I think is hope in her voice.

“No, I help all my former lovers convince their ex-fiancées that they’re over them,” I deadpan.

A small smile curls at the edge of her mouth. “That’s pretty on par with being sapphic.”

I can’t help but smile back. “Cute joke. Stop deflecting. I don’t have ulterior motives and yes, we’re friends. I shrug helplessly. “I’m helping you, but you’ve helped me, too. More than you’ll ever know.”

She eyes me with caution. “So you’re just a genuinely kind person? Like this sweet southern girl shit isn’t a facade?”

“What sweet southern girl shit?”

“The naming your camera and pet after country powerhouses. The ‘y’alls.’” Jo’s attempt at copying my accent makes me giggle, though the look on her face lets me know that’s not the right reaction.

“Sorry,” I say, forcing the smile off my face. “No. That’s just me.”

“Huh.” Jo appears to ponder this. “You’re as southern and sweet as tea.”

“That is a fantastic metaphor. But you’re forgetting that I can also be a bitch to the people who deserve it.”

A small smile breaks across her face. “I thought it was a good one, too,” she admits bashfully. “Anyway, back to business. You’re not doing this to, like, break my heart again and leave me all sad and shit, right?”

“Not that I’m aware of?” The way she’s insisting I can’t just be doing this to help her almost has me convinced I have ulterior motives unbeknownst to me.

“Okay. Okay.” She inhales shakily. “Okay.”

“Since it’s so okay, we need to find a solution to your ex-fiance thinking we’re in a toxic relationship because of how you interact with me.”

Jo groans and flops onto the couch. “How?”

“You stop acting like you hate me,” I say, walking over to Dolly’s terrarium and opening the hatch on the front. “Hi, princess,” I coo, as she crawls into my arms.

I feel Jo’s eyes on me. “How?” she repeats.

I turn around and walk to the couch, sitting next to her. “I think we need to practice intimacy.”

She jerks away from me. “I’m not having sex with you.”

I roll my eyes. “You read too many historical romances, Jesus Christ. Sex isn’t the only type of intimacy that exists. Think of the stolen touches and kisses before the big event. The longing stares and words exchanged before they take their clothes off. All of that is intimacy, and you’re absolute shit at it.”

“Gee, thanks,” she deadpans.

“I’m serious. The only way we’re going to convince anyone is if we perform for them. And what do you do before a performance? You rehearse. So we’re going to spend the nights you’re not working getting to know each other.”

Jo groans and lets her head flop against the back of the couch. “Goddammit.”

“Okay, you know what? See, right there is why Kelsey thinks things are weird between us,” I exclaim, cradling Dolly Parton closer into my chest. “You’re acting like I said I’m going to pull out your teeth and burn all your romance novels.”

She lifts her head, having the decency to look at least a little ashamed. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” I shove my emotions into a box to deal with later and wave my hand at her. “But if you want to convince Kelsey and Becky that we’re a thing, you have to figure out how to fake excitement and love around me. I think us getting to know each other and fostering a friendship would help that.”

She ponders it for a moment. “That’s it? I just have to pretend to like you?”

“Um, no,” I say regretfully as my cheeks heat. “Giovanna, we gotta be physical in front of them. It’s fucking weird that we don’t. I can count on one hand the amount of times we’ve touched around them. We have to touch, hold hands…maybe even kiss.”

I think that Jo’s going to oppose again, but she’s silent.

“Did you hear me?”

“Yes. Give me a second,” she answers, chewing on her bottom lip. Finally she exhales heavily. “God, you’re right. It’s fucking weird that there’s always like, a foot between us.”

“A little.”

She looks down at our legs, which are only a few inches apart. She and I both have thick thighs that expand when we sit, so that part of our bodies is closer than the rest. “It’s not hard when it’s just us.”

“Maybe because this closeness we share as roommates is real?” I suggest. “Like we’re not trying to convince anyone of anything. We just both sat on the couch. That’s why I think it’d be helpful to do a little more at home.”

“I keep wanting to argue that this doesn’t make sense.” She reaches out a hand out to scratch Dolly under her chin. “But none of this makes sense, does it? So why would fixing it make sense?”

I bite back a smile. “Fair point.”

“We have to practice kissing?” Jo says, sounding nervous.

“A quick kiss every once in a while wouldn’t hurt. We don’t have to make out, or use tongue, or anything like that. But it’ll sell us as a couple. Plus, with us both going to the bachelorette weekend, I think it’d be really weird if they didn’t see us kiss for the entire weekend.”

“Oh. You’re going to hate me,” Jo says sheepishly. “I asked for two rooms for the weekend in Port Haven. Told Becky that I wanted my own space to organize everything I needed, and that you needed your own to edit.”

“You’re not wrong. Having our own separate rooms makes it easier to do our jobs. But, I think that means we need to work on touching and being couple-y extra, extra hard.”

“Okay,” Jo says, her eyes on Dolly. “Where do we start?”

I shrug. “Like this.” I hold our bearded dragon out to her. “Wanna hold her?”

Jo nods and takes Dolly into her arms. “My favorite little monster,” she says, a soft smile spreading across her face.

As she cradles Dolly, I reach out and brush her hair off her shoulder. She tenses and looks at me, eyes wide. “Oh. Like that ?”

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. “Mmhmm. Like that. Let’s put on a show or something and just sit here and platonically touch.”

She places her hand on my thigh and I almost spring through the ceiling at her touch.

This was a terrible idea.

“Good,” I croak. “That’s good. How does it feel?”

“Like I’m touching your leg,” she responds without even a millisecond of hesitation.

“Thank you, that’s very helpful.”

She’s fighting back a smile, and she sucks at it. This woman wants to smile big . “I mean that it doesn’t feel forced or fake.”

“See! It can be as simple and straightforward as touching my leg.”

We spend the rest of the night watching the 2005 Pride and Prejudice , during which Giovanna argues that Mr. Bingley is hotter than Mr. Darcy, which is the worst take I’ve ever heard in my life. Her hand stays on my thigh, and I try to regulate my breathing, to tell my body that this is practice and doesn’t mean anything. So stop picturing Giovanna naked, for goodness’ sake.

At one point, her hand slowly moves upward until she squeezes my inner thigh and my soul ascends to a higher plane.

“Is this okay?” she asks, not taking her eyes off the screen.

“Uh-huh,” I squeak.

This isn’t helping me not picture her naked.

Minutes later, she turns her body to me. Dolly is asleep on my lap, and Jo weaves her fingers through my curls, which are especially tangled after today’s Central Park adventures. She cups the side of my head, and I slowly realize what’s happening.

“When I said we should practice kissing, I didn’t mean it had to be tonight,” I whisper, mouth dry and heart pounding.

Jo’s eyes are fixated on my mouth. Stop that , I want to scream at her. But also don’t stop. But stop. But don’t. Kiss me hard, like you used to. But we’re not who we used to be, so don’t. But please do.

“I think we should get it over with. The first time,” she says, raising her eyes to mine.

“Right. Get it over with.”

She pulls me closer to her. Her eyes search mine as she bites her lower lip. Her breath is warm on my face. “You’re no Charles Bingley, but you’ll do, Hunter Cleary.”

She presses her lips to mine and I try to control myself, I promise I do.

But how do you control yourself when this fake kiss is making fireworks go off in your stomach? When your toes are curling and this soft, closed mouth kiss is the greatest kiss you’ve had in years?

I can’t help it. I sigh and lean into her, head swimming.

And she immediately pulls away, eyes snapping open.

“What was that?” she asks, sounding panicked.

“Nothing,” I answer, way too quickly for it to be nothing.

“You sighed. And leaned into the kiss.” Giovanna scrambles to her feet.

I stand with Dolly Parton in my arms. “It’s not my fault you’re a good kisser.” Maybe I can gaslight her into thinking this is her fault. “We can’t kiss and not act like we’re into it. That ruins the purpose of kissing altogether.”

She runs her fingers through her hair. It’s so thick and long and I want to see it splayed out around her as she moans my name and I kiss her everywhere I can reach.

“I guess you’re right,” she says slowly.

Holy shit. I’m a little concerned at how easy that was.

“Yeah. We need some movement. We can't just push our lips together and not move. That doesn’t look real.”

Though it felt incredible. What am I doing telling her we need to do more? Doing nothing was plenty to make me weak in the knees.

She nods. “Can we try again?”

“Yeah. Let me put the little monster away first.” I motion to Dolly Parton with my head before putting her back in her terrarium.

I turn back to Jo and we lean into each other. We both still for a moment, lips a breath apart, breaths hot on each other. And then she’s kissing me with the movement I’d demanded of her.

And it was a terrible idea, because I once again lean into this fake kiss that means absolutely nothing to us. But this time I moan.

Loudly.

Giovanna pulls away, eyes wide. “Was that…”

“A moan? Yep. Sorry. It just kinda happened.”

“No, it’s fine. Makes it really believable.” She clears her throat. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“You and me both.” I inhale deeply. “Are you open for some constructive criticism?”

“Only if you are,” she answers.

“Is your constructive criticism that I moaned too loud?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“Okay, well. Your hands were limply by your sides.” I demonstrate the position I’m describing, raising my shoulders and straightening my back to drive the point in. “Like you were standing at attention, not embracing me in any way.”

“Jesus.” She rubs at her temples. “I promise I’ve kissed people before.”

“I’m guessing when you usually kiss a partner, you’re not so…in your head. When you’re kissing, you follow your partner and intuition, right? With this, you’re trying to kiss right . Not just kiss.” I motion to the TV with my head. “So pretend I’m that goofy ginger dude…wait, you don’t like dudes.”

She giggles and that’s it. Her giggle is my new favorite sound. “I wouldn’t actually want to kiss him, but like…lesbians can have crushes on male fictional characters or celebrities.”

I blink at her in surprise. “ Really ?”

“Mmhm. Doesn’t make me less of a lesbian.”

“Okay, well. Imagine I’m him.” I’m thrown off by this information. I always thought that having crushes on men, fictional or not, disqualified you from being a lesbian. “Or if that doesn’t do it for you, pretend I’m…a beautiful woman,” I finish lamely.

“You are a beautiful woman,” Jo says earnestly, a blush creeping down her neck.

“Just imagine I’m someone you want to kiss.” My throat is dry, my voice quiet.

Her eyes meet mine again, soft and earnest. “I can do that.”

She cups my face in her hands again. She stares at me for a moment, like she’s drinking me in, or waiting for me to pull away. But then she takes my mouth with hers and my arms wrap around her waist on their own accord, I swear to god.

It’s a good kiss. A really good kiss. There’s the movement we’d been missing previously, and she runs her thumbs over my cheeks in a way that has me reminding myself this still isn’t real.

Then, so lightly I think I imagine it at first, she opens her mouth, her tongue gently brushing against the seam of my lips.

I moan and lean into her again, one of her hands moving to grab at the back of my head. I open my mouth and our tongues meet, our kiss growing more frantic by the second until I force myself to pull away.

“Good work,” I gasp. “A+ in kissing class today.”

“Thank you.” Her lips are swollen and her cheeks are pink. There’s a stunned expression on her face, like she can’t quite figure out where she is.

“That was fun,” I blurt out. “Really, really fun.”

She blinks a few times before delicately running her tongue over her bottom lip.

It’s like she wants me to jump her bones.

“Really, really fun,” she echoes.

“Yeah,” I agree. “I think we nailed it.”

“Nailed it.”

“I’m going to bed. I’m tired.” I fake a yawn, stretching my arms over my head to sell it.

“Sounds good,” she says, suddenly averting her gaze. “Goodnight, Hun.”

“‘Night, Giovanna.”

When I close my bedroom door behind me, I don’t know what comes over me, but I’m screaming into my pillow as my feet kick excitedly.

I keep saying I’m fucked. That Jo’s going to make me fall for her and I’m going to get hurt.

Now I know I’m wrong. I’m already gone.