Operation Meet Cute by K.M. Neuhold
Chapter 11
HARLOW
I dance around my bedroom, my Getting Ready for a Date Montage playlist blaring through my smart speaker as I try on and discard several different clothing options. Quinn is supposed to be picking me up in half an hour, and I need to look like a proper leading man.
Even over my music, I can hear the loud thunder of Teddy’s footsteps upstairs. Either he’s decided to break in a pair of steel-toe boots today, or he’s in a crabby mood for some reason. He seemed like he was in good enough spirits when we made out on his couch for an hour last night after eating cake for dinner like a couple of heathens.
I’ve gotta say, adding benefits to our already stellar friendship was one of my better ideas. Of course, if my date goes exceptionally well tonight, things with Teddy will have to go back to the way they were before kissing and nakedness became part of our friendship equation.
That thought makes my stomach swoop unpleasantly. Or maybe it’s just nerves. After all, this could be the last first date I ever go on. Quinn could be my happily ever after. A little bit of butterflies is par for the course.
I shimmy out of the jeans I have on, not convinced they’re the right ones for tonight, and grab a different pair to pull on. I’m immediately happier with this choice of darker jeans. With that decided, I return to the shirt dilemma. While I peruse my options for a third, or possibly fourth time, I absently slip my hands into my pockets.
A smile jumps to my lips when my fingers encounter an unexpected piece of paper. I can’t imagine that I’ll find another man in a million years who will hide silly poems in my pockets like Teddy does.
I wonder if my future husband will mind if I let him keep doing it…
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s eve?
Thou art a refreshing douche
I cackle at the hilariously insulting poem. I start to fold it back up and realize there’s writing on the other side as well. Smoothing it out a second time, I read the longer poem on the back side.
Comparisons to seasons seem cliché and trite
What I really want to say is your smile is bright
I get lost in your eyes
Your skillful lips are quite a surprise
This still feels cheesy and awkward
None of my poems will win an award
I laugh again, a mushy feeling filling my chest thanks to the sweeter version of the poem. Without thinking, I lift the paper to my nose to see if I can catch a hint of his familiar scent. My heart beats a little faster when I do, dragging a deeper breath into my lungs and smiling at the pure happiness that fills me.
I hold the paper to my nose for a few more seconds before I finally fold it back up and stride across the room to put it safely into my box full of terrible poems from my best friend.
My phone starts to vibrate on my bed, snapping me out of the weird, floaty sort of feeling I found myself lost in for a minute. Quinn’s name lights up the screen, so I grab the first shirt my hand lands on and drag it quickly over my head and then answer the call.
“I’m here,” he says right away.
“Okay, I’ll be right down.”
I pause to slip on my shoes and grab my keys before dashing out the door. I’m still in such a daze that I find myself going up the stairs toward Teddy’s apartment rather than down to meet Quinn. When I realize what I’m doing, I chuckle and shake my head, spinning around and jogging in the correct direction until I reach the main floor.
I’m not sure why, but Quinn’s whole presentation made me expect a much nicer car than what he’s waiting for me in. Not that it matters. I may pay a lot of attention to my appearance, but at the end of the day, I couldn’t give less of a shit about what kind of a car a man drives or how he dresses. I want the right man, I want my leading man. That’s it.
“Hey,” I say, sliding into the passenger seat and buckling my seatbelt.
“Hey,” he greets me with a smile. He looks even more fabulous than he did yesterday morning on the bus, decked out in a tailored dark suit and a pair of Armani sunglasses. It looks like he might be wearing a bit of stage makeup too, maybe just some foundation. Hey, if that’s how he feels fabulous, more power to him.
“So, are you from around here?” I ask as he drives.
“No,” he answers. I wait for him to elaborate. After all, almost no one in LA is from LA so I expected the answer to be no. Most people take that as an opening to talk about where they did grow up and what led them to California in the first place. Not Quinn, apparently. He’s silent for so long that it actually becomes physically oppressive.
“I’m not either,” I say, pausing to give him the chance to ask me a follow up question. He doesn’t. Don’t panic, Low, plenty of people are awkward at the start of a date. Power through. “Of course you could probably tell that from my accent,” I go on. “Georgia, that’s where I grew up. Not Atlanta. Most people assume Atlanta when you say you grew up in Georgia, but unfortunately it was a tiny little nothing town that I pretty much left the day I turned eighteen.”
I babble on like that for a solid fifteen minutes, getting very little in return from my date. When we finally pull up in front of the restaurant, I breathe a sigh of relief. Maybe he’s just the kind of guy who isn’t very chatty while he drives. If anything, that’s downright smart and responsible to focus so thoroughly on the road. He should be commended.
The hostess seats us, and we both order a glass of wine.
“So,” he says once the two of us are left with our menus. He speaks! Thank you, Great and Powerful Keanu. “You’re an assistant director, huh? You probably have quite a bit of say when it comes to casting.”
Fuck a duck.
I give him a tight smile, lowering my menu and pulling my phone out of my pocket to discreetly send Teddy a short message: SOS and the name of the restaurant.
“Not really,” I answer, really wishing they would hurry up with that wine we ordered already.
“But you know casting directors?” he presses.
“Technically, yes, but—”
“Great. Here, let me do a quick monologue for you, and you’ll see why it’s an absolute travesty that I haven’t been cast in any major roles yet.”
“Oh no, you don’t have to—”
Too late, he’s already launching into Salvatore Corsitta’s opening monologue from The Godfather.
I sink lower in my seat and pray Teddy shows up soon.
It only took us fifteen minutes to arrive at this restaurant, but it feels like it takes Teddy an eternity to get here. Maybe he’s not coming at all. It would serve me right for meeting a man on the bus, frankly. This is worse than the date I had with a wrong-number meet-cute who turned out to be a taxidermist who lived with his mother. I spent the entire meal thinking of the movie Psycho.
Quinn doesn’t just have one monologue for me either. Oh no, the man came prepared. After the first, he pauses just long enough for us to order food, and then he launches into an account of his acting resume, following it up with a Morgan Freeman monologue from The Shawshank Redemption.
I’m about to tell him I have to go to the restroom, with plans to never return, when a shadow suddenly looms over our table.
Teddy to the rescue.
“We broke up yesterday, and you’re already out with someone else?” he asks dramatically, gesturing between the two of us and then hitting me with a pathetic expression. “I thought we were in love. I know I am.”
“Henry,” I say, reaching out to touch his arm. Teddy thought this ruse we cooked up ages ago to save me from bad dates would work best if he had a character name to go with his heartbroken ex-boyfriend role. “We were in love. I mean…” I look meaningfully at Quinn and then back at Teddy. “We are. It’s just—”
“I want you back.” He takes both of my hands in his, giving me the best pleading look I’ve ever seen. Honestly, Quinn should take acting classes from Teddy. The man is a born thespian. “Please, just come home with me. We can fix everything. I swear I’ll never sleep with your brother again.”
I hide my surprised gasp with a fake cough, trying not to glare at the minute smile that curves Teddy’s lips. That is not part of the script, and I can’t say that I’m a director who likes his actors going so outrageously off-book.
“Yes, well, we can talk about that later.” I hurry to wave off the ad-libbing. “I’m so sorry, Quinn. I hope you understand.”
Before Quinn can respond, Teddy sweeps me out of my chair and throws me over his shoulder. I barely have time to wave at my stunned date as my best friend carries me out of the restaurant.
Teddy doesn’t set me down until we’re outside.
“My brother, really?” I complain, smoothing down the wrinkles in my shirt from being manhandled by him.
He smirks and shrugs. “I thought the script could use a little more drama.”
“You’re fired,” I grumble, but he just continues to smile shamelessly.
“Is everything okay? Was he just a bad date, or do I actually need to go back in there and set him straight?” he checks, and those stupid butterflies take over my stomach again.
“This wasn’t a date. It was an audition, apparently.”
“Ah.” He nods, dragging his fingers through his hair and looking around for a minute. “You haven’t eaten yet, right?”
“Nope. And I’m starving, actually.”
“Come on, there’s a new Thai place around the corner that I’ve heard great things about.” He throws an arm around my shoulders, and I lean into him, engulfed in a gallon more of that heady Teddy scent that lingered on the paper he stashed in my pocket.
“Thai sounds great,” I agree.
TEDDY
When I got Harlow’s SOS text, a momentary flair of panic came over me. I spent the entire drive there reassuring myself that it was no doubt another one of Harlow’s terrible dates and nothing more sinister, but my heart didn’t beat normally until I saw him sitting in one piece inside the restaurant. Bored but safe.
“You know the worst part of that stupid, bad date?” he says as I unlock my apartment door when we get home from dinner.
“His douchey haircut?” I guess, and he chuckles.
“No. I kind of liked his hair.” He kicks off his shoes and scoops up Eileen to kiss her on the head before carrying her to the living room and flopping down on the couch. Eileen jumps out of his arms and saunters away with a sassy little tail flick.
“What was the worst part then?” I sit down on the other end of the couch and allow myself just a few seconds of shamelessly undressing him with my eyes.
“I waxed and douched earlier, and now all of that prep is going to go to waste.” He sighs theatrically and casts a coy look in my direction.
“That is tragic,” I agree, tugging his feet into my lap and massaging one of them. He relaxes into my touch, moaning when I dig my knuckle into the arch of his foot. The sound goes straight to my dick, taking it from half-hard to fully interested in the situation.
“Mm-hmm,” he hums in agreement, closing his eyes again and gasping pornographically at the way I work on the ball of his foot. “You know, between the two of us, we could probably brainstorm some alternative ideas that would make my prep worthwhile.”
I bite back a smile, keeping my face teasingly serious. “How about if you call your doctor and see if they can fit you in for a routine colonoscopy?”
“That’s one idea.” He doesn’t sound terribly impressed with my suggestion. “Or I could go meet the new neighbor who just moved in on the fourth floor, see if he might be the one.”
There’s obvious mischief in his tone, but that doesn’t stop a possessive growl from rumbling through my throat. “Or we could go to my bedroom and see if we can come up with any other ideas.”
“Now you’re talking.” He pulls his feet out of my lap and sits up. My cock is uncomfortably hard now, pressing against the zipper of my jeans as I get to my feet. Feeling playful, I sweep Harlow up and toss him over my shoulder like I did at the restaurant. He makes a surprised noise and then starts to laugh. “I am so here for the caveman shit, Teddy Bear,” he jokes, reaching down and squeezing my ass as I carry him to my bedroom.
I run my hand up along the curve of Harlow’s ass, my cock throbbing in anticipation. He wiggles against my shoulder, the evidence of his own excitement more than obvious. There’s something strangely primal about carrying him to my bedroom and tossing him down onto my unmade bed.
It shouldn’t be any different watching him frantically tug his shirt off in here than there was out in the living room, but something about seeing him in my bed is really fucking doing it for me.
I reach down and palm my erection through my jeans, groaning when he pops the buttons on his pants. I swear to Christ, there could be porn dedicated to the simple movement of Harlow lifting his hips and shoving his jeans and underwear down. His cock slaps against his belly, and he spreads his legs, looking up at me with an impatient smile.
“Planning to fuck me with your clothes on?” he asks.
I glance down at myself and realize I’m still dressed, too busy watching the show he was putting on to worry about myself. As hot as it would be to simply unzip, whip my cock out, and fuck him fully clothed because I’m too impatient to undress, I’m desperate to feel all of his bare skin against mine.
I grunt in response, yanking my shirt over my head and then getting rid of my jeans. I take a second to grab a condom and the bottle of lube out of my nightstand before I finally give into the urge to cover Harlow’s body with mine.
We both groan at the sensation of miles of hot skin pressed together, his hard cock against mine, his legs tangling with my legs, Harlow’s mouth on my mouth. Our lips and tongues clash, and our hips roll as we grind together, sharing muffled gasps and grunts.
His hands are all over my body like he’s afraid to miss an inch. I’m familiar with the feeling. I memorize the softness of his skin, contrasted by patches of coarse body hair or the bumps of moles and scars.
His tongue slides wet and heavy against mine, the taste of him making my cock throb and my balls ache, precum dripping from me as we grind together.
“Jesus, you have such a big dick,” he pants near my mouth, thrusting up to drag his cock harder against mine. “This is really important friendship information.”
I make a noise that’s somewhere between a laugh and a moan as I tunnel my fingers through his hair and kiss him harder. As happy as I’d be to kiss the hell out of him for the rest of the night, there are other parts of Harlow I’m dying to taste.
“Any particular feelings on rimming?” I ask as I kiss my way down his throat, nipping at his collarbone when I reach it.
“Strongly pro,” he gasps, arching against me and then burying his fingers in my hair to shove my head down and hurry me along.
I chuckle, kissing his skin even more stubbornly slow, tasting every inch of him before I flip him over and spread his cheeks with both hands. He wasn’t lying when he said he was all waxed and ready to go. His bare, pink hole is just begging for my tongue and my cock, in that order. But the fact that he did this in anticipation of his date with someone else makes me crazy.
I squeeze his ass cheeks harder, clenching my jaw. Harlow gasps, spreading his legs wider and tilting his hips up in invitation. Fucking hell.
It doesn’t matter what he had planned when he got ready, he’s in my bed now with my hands all over him, panting for my cock. With one last possessive huff, I bury my face between his cheeks. I lick him open, lapping my tongue over his hole until it’s soft and wet enough for me to shove it inside.
Harlow moans and cants his hips, grinding against my face as I fuck him with my tongue. His thighs tremble, and he falls forward on his arms, reaching between his legs to fist his cock. I moan around his hole, licking deeper and harder until his muscles start to tighten and flutter, his breath coming faster. He’s close to coming, but I’m not ready for things to be over.
I pull back and give a hard nip to his ass cheek. He gasps and shudders, stilling his hand on his cock so he doesn’t come. I grope for the condom and lube, fumbling them open with shaking fingers as I take a second to catch my breath. The sight of Harlow with his ass in the air, his cheeks and thighs beard-burned, his hole glistening with my spit, isn’t helping.
I get the condom on and slick my fingers with lube. I sink two inside his hole, my cock jerking eagerly at the feeling of the tight heat.
“Fuck. Just put it in,” he pants, thrusting impatiently against my fingers, his fingers twisting around the bed sheets and his cock swinging hard and untouched between his legs.
“As you’ve noted, I’m big,” I explain, fucking him slowly with two fingers, my cock bumping against the back of his thigh.
“I can take it.”
I grin because it’s exactly what I expected him to say. I’ve imagined this moment a million times, and it’s comforting to know that Fantasy Harlow was pretty spot on.
I put a little more lube on my cock and ease my fingers out. He wiggles his hips eagerly as I line my cock up with his hole and push inside.
“Fuuuuck,” he groans, his muscles tensing around me, his body following.
“Told you,” I murmur smugly, leaning forward to kiss along his spine while I let him adjust. When he starts to relax, I push deeper. I nip and lick at his skin, panting hot breaths against his back as I fill him.
“Teddy,” Harlow moans my name so perfectly I almost lose it immediately, my balls constricting and my muscles tensing. I dig my fingers into his hips and clench my teeth again, still not ready to be done with him.
I get control of myself, but rather than pull out right away, I stay still, wrapping my hand around his cock and stroking him slowly. His inner muscles clench and flutter around me, his breath coming faster, laced with sounds of pleasure.
When I do start to pull out, he gasps and shudders, groaning deeply when I fill him again. Every sound that falls from his lips is intoxicating, stoking the heat deep inside me and pushing me closer to the edge.
Our thighs slap together with every thrust, our skin getting slick with sweat as we move together, fucking hard and deep. His cock is leaking so much my hand is slick with his precum, sliding easily up and down his shaft.
Harlow’s orgasm seems to take him by surprise, a shocked, strangled moan bursting from his lips a second before he starts to pulse in my hand, his inner muscles contracting around me. I groan against the back of his shoulder, fucking him through his orgasm until mine rushes through me. I stop thrusting and grind into his ass, letting the aftershocks of his orgasm milk me dry.
I collapse on top of him with a groan.
It takes me a few seconds to manage to roll off of him and get rid of the condom. Harlow comes closer, tucking his head under my armpit and flinging one leg over mine.
I’m not sure what comes over me, whether it’s post-orgasmic stupidity or something else, but the next words out of my mouth are a whole new kind of dangerous.
“You know, it’s kind of like we had a date tonight.”
Harlow tenses, all traces of pleasured drowsiness gone as he forces out a stiff sound that I think is supposed to pass for a laugh. “How so?”
“Dinner, deep conversation, sex…all the features of a date.” I double down, and he makes another one of those noises as he sits up, flinging the covers off both of us in the process.
“Just because it has feathers and webbed feet doesn’t mean it’s a duck,” he mutters, looking around the floor for a second before stooping to snatch up his pants. He pulls them on in a hurry and then does the same with his shirt. My stomach squirms at the pointed way he’s not looking at me.
Why did I even say it? Of course this wasn’t a date. It can’t be a date if one of you doesn’t know about it.
“Low…”
“Thanks for the rescue tonight, Teddy Bear.” He finally turns to look at me, putting on a tight smile as he runs his fingers through his messy hair…the same hair I was dragging my fingers through only a few minutes ago while my tongue was down his throat. “And thanks for dinner and double thanks for the orgasm. I really needed to blow off the steam, so I appreciate it.”
I finally sit up too, gathering up the covers and pulling them over my lap to hide my limp cock and cum-sticky thighs. “Don’t mention it.”
“I’ve got some work to do, so I’ll catch you later.”
“Later,” I say, trying not to sigh as he practically sprints out of my bedroom. As soon as he’s gone, I flop back, put my hands over my face, and groan at my own stupidity.
