I just stand there, stunned, until Christine folds me into a hug. She leans down and whispers, “Surprise.”
My voice unfreezes. “I hate you. I’m never forgiving you for this.”
Her whisper is so quiet, so close, I’m sure only I can hear. “Good. I like how tight you clench around my cock when you’re angry.”
Now that I’m not only embarrassed and horrified but alsohorny, I am immensely grateful to be ushered off the stage.
“Sorry to spring it on you like that,” Haley says, “but Christine told me that if we said anything to you, you’d probably refuse to go on stage at all.”
“Yeah, probably…”
Christine reaches over and tousles my hair.
I bat her hand away and quickly fix my waves, now that I’mvery self-conscious.
She chuckles at me, and I seethe, plotting revenge.
Then the screen comes to life, and the movie begins.
Christine makes it as far as the title sequence—sweeping helicopter shots of the breathtaking New Zealand vistas—before pulling me into her lap.
I gratefully fold into her warmth, and my nerves quickly settle.
Watching myself in movies isn’t so bad, since I don’t have to see my face or hear my voice. It’s always interesting to see how hours of filming distill down into seconds of tight, grippingaction or dialogue, and the soundtrack and special effects take everything to the next level.
The crowd gasps and laughs and cheers when they should.
Then my body goes tense before I realize why—Electra leans down for the kiss that sent me panicking, crashing through the trees.
Christine’s hand slides gently over my eyes, and she pulls my head to her chest, pressing firmly.
A sense of profound and complete safety flows from that touch.
Based on the audience’s reaction, the rest of the movie is truly special, but I don’t see it. Even long after Christine’s hand has slid down to my waist, I rest against her chest, eyes shut, listening to the beating of her heart.
Past me would be deeply offended by such…omegabehavior.
Present me is…happy.Grateful.
The story my life tells won’t be one of gritty, determined independence in which I triumph over every obstacle placed in front of me, fully transcending every aspect of my biology.
But maybe that’s okay.
The story will be full of laugh-‘till-you’re-sick friendship. Of love that grabs you by the bones and won’t let go. Of peaceful evenings under moonlight, and chaotic wrestling matches to pick the next show to binge.
I wouldn’t give it an Oscar, or anything.
But I still think it’s pretty damn good.
The premiere’safter-party is like the wrap party finale I never got. I think Christine pulled some strings and subsidized someplane tickets to make sure everyone I’d befriended could make it tonight.
Bella’s the one I’m both most excited and most nervous to see. Back during our stay in Santa Barbara, I called Bella shortly after Christine called Lana, wanting to make sure Bella heard it from me first.
She gave me an earful about how stubborn I’d been, and I was sure she’d never want to work with me again. But then she said stubbornness is basically the defining trait of a stunt performer, and I’d proven myself ten times over. So I’mpretty surewe’re okay?
Still, I brace as I find her by the table of appetizers—until she pulls me into a warm hug.
“I hope you’ve been working on the training regimen I sent you,” she says with a grin, clapping me on the shoulder. “I’ll be acceptingnoexcuses for sub-par performance.”
