Page 17 of In Love with Lewis Prescott
“Naomi! Oh my god, you’re not gonna believe what I just did. Er, almost did.”
Instead of answering me, I hear the muffled sound of mumbling. She must be talking to Simon, which means my phone call probably woke him up too.
“I’m sorry, I know there’s nothing you hate more than an early phone call on a Saturday morning, but I promise, this is an emergency. I need your help.”
“Crap, are you okay?”
“I’m fine. It’s just...okay, what I’m about to tell you, you absolutely, positively cannot tell a single soul. Okay?”
“Okay...”
She yawns, and I brace myself to break the promise I made to Lewis less than twenty-four hours ago.
“I found a contractor to fix up the house. And it won’t cost me anything extra.”
“Harper, that’s great!”
The sounds of Naomi’s coffee maker echo on her end of the line, making my mouth water. I spot a drive-through coffee shop with a line ten cars long and pull up to it.
“Why do you sound so panicked, then?” Naomi asks.
“Because...well, because the contractor is Lewis Prescott. As in, the famous actor Lewis Prescott. He’s moved in with me during the duration of the remodel. And I just... I just... I just grabbed his dick. And then I almost got myself off fantasizing about it.”
I cover my face with my hand and grimace, even though no one can see me. The sound of Naomi sputtering is the only thing I can hear for five seconds. Then she laughs.
“Okay, very funny. This is your idea of a joke, right? Well done.”
“No. Naomi, listen. I’m telling you the God’s honest truth. Lewis Prescott, the hot TV veterinarian, the guy who had a very public drunken meltdown in front of the paparazzi last month, is living with me for the next three months—and he’s remodeling my house.”
“What?!”
Naomi’s shrieked question pierces right through my eardrum. I have to hold the phone away from my face for a moment before I explain everything to her: our random run-in, how he used to be a professional contractor before he was an actor, how he offered to resume the renovation in exchange for letting him hide out at the house so he can let the bad press die down before heading back to LA.
“I—I can’t believe this,” Naomi stutters.
When she squeals, I quickly shush her. “Don’t, you’ll wake Simon.”
“Don’t worry, he’s just left to go to the gym. Oh my god...just...oh my freaking god! Harper! Do you know how lucky you are? You’re living out my fantasy—you’re living out millions of people’s fantasies, actually. Shacking up with Lewis Prescott!”
“Don’t tell Simon. Lewis is super private, and I shouldn’t even be telling you about him.”
“Of course, don’t even worry, I swear I won’t...” She stops talking suddenly. “Wait, hold on. Did you say that you grabbed his dick? And then rubbed one out?”
That familiar burn makes its way up my chest, neck, and cheeks for the second time this morning.
“Almost masturbated. But, uh, yeah. I did, um, grab his dick.”
I tell her it was a total mistake caused by this morning’s early wake-up call and that I was so randomly turned on.
“Okay, well, I’m gonna need details. Very specific details. How did it feel? How big was he? Did he seem kind of into it when you touched him?”
“Jesus, Naomi.”
I tell her to hold on while I pull up and order coffee from the barista. As soon as he hands me my drink, I pull into a nearby empty parking spot so I can put my full focus on this conversation.
“Truthfully? He felt...impressive.”
Naomi gasps.
