Chapter 1
They had made a bet when they won that Golden Globe, she'd get a kiss. He didn't think they would win. She did. So they made that bet.
They didn't talk about what kind, so when they won and he kissed her on the cheek while Ryan was thanking everyone on stage, maybe he thought that was it.
It wasn't.
During the evening of celebration at Chateau Marmont, Naya prepared to make her exit.
She said good night to a drunk Darren, an oversensitive Lea, a sleepy Dianna and the rest of the cast and crew, put something in his hand and whispered in his ear as she hugged him goodbye.
"So I can claim my prize later", she said.
She felt herself blushing so she left without looking back to see his reaction. She wasn't normally that forward, especially with one of her castmates. But she felt she really had nothing left to lose. And honestly, she was a little drunk too.
An hour or two later she was in her pajamas on the bed in her room, having a drink, with the television on in the background while she was writing.
She'd put the idea that he'd show up out of her mind because she was so sure he wouldn't. She was wearing a white t-shirt and soft cotton PJ pants. She focused on the computer screen and pushed her glasses back up.
She glanced at the clock on the cable box. It was almost 1. If she'd allowed herself to be hopeful, she would have been disappointed. She closed her laptop and put it on the desk, pulled the clip out of her hair and shut the lights off.
She sat against the headboard of the bed, finishing her drink, and found some bad horror movie on one of the cable channels. It was sort of a relief, she thought, that he didn't show up. She'd have been a nervous wreck. She'd have to deal with the guessing games and try to figure out what he was thinking and feeling while beating herself up for what she felt. Instead, she had the quiet night to herself, just enjoying the peace.
She'd just finished her drink and was about to start getting ready for bed when she heard the key in the door. It was 1:30. She'd given him the key at 9. If she had any sort of self respect, she'd put the deadbolt on. But she didn't. Not when it came to him.
The irony was that she knew he'd be strangely impressed if she did lock him out. But she couldn't do it.
He was still messing with the key, as one was likely to do after being out drinking for five hours. She stood on the other side of the door keeping him on ice for a few more minutes, smiling to herself.
Then she opened the door.
"Hi Cory".
What do you think? Should I keep with this story? Give up? Jump out the window? Let me know what do you think and what do you want to happen next! -B.