"Stop calling me that! I'm not a celebrity," he said.
"I see celebrities all day at my job. I'm counting you as one. I think you're a famous celebrity and it's technically an opinion, so you don't have to agree with me, but I'm not wrong to think it," I said.
"Ugh. Fine. But I'm just popular. Or well-known. Or an influencer at best," he said.
"Tell yourself whatever you want, pretty boy," I said.
"I will," he said. "Why do you keep standing so far away from me? You were against the wall earlier and then against my doorframe and now you're sitting up on the edge of the bed while I'm laying down in the middle," he said. He wasn't wrong.
"I don't know, actually," I said. Why was I doing that? I was in Colby Brock's bed. I'd been obsessed with the guy since I was 16, and part of my leg was literally hanging off of the side from how close to the edge I was.
"Then come here," he said for the second time. I put my hands on either side of myself and scooted down and laid down, then rolled over to face him. "You're still hanging off the bed," he said.
"I'm not hanging off, I'm just slowly slipping and will probably fall off in about five minutes," I replied. He reached his arm out and wrapped it around my waist, tucking his fingers under the side I had against the bed and pulled me into him, pressing my face against his bare chest.
"See? Is this that awful?" he asked.
"No, I never said it was," I said.
"Well you were sort of acting like it would be," he laughed.
"My bad," I responded.
"Not a problem. You're here now," he said. I could hear his heart beating.
"What time is it?" I asked, yawning. He rolled over.
"Two. Do you have work tomorrow?" he asked.
"No. Only Wednesdays through Fridays. There's two other managers," I said.
"Good. I'd feel bad if your hungover ass had to get up and go to work tomorrow," he said.
"I don't get hungover," I said.
"What?" he said, pulling away from me. "Never?"
"Not once," I said.
"What the fuck! Unfair!" he said. "Even after, what, five shots of tequila?" he asked.
"Nope," I said. The alcohol had already worn off. I wasn't even too drunk when we'd gotten back to Colby's place. We danced for a while and the shots were relatively spaced out, plus I got some water from Kara, who actually did put my name on the VIP list.
"You're crazy. Not boring at all. You're not allowed to say that anymore," he said, staring down into my eyes. I rolled over onto my back. "It's a good crazy, though. I like it."
"I'm glad you enjoy my craziness," I responded.
"Not just your craziness. I like you, too," he said, rolling onto his other side, facing away from me. I yawned and closed my eyes when I felt something wet touch my arm. I immediately jolted up.
"Chill out, Nessa. It's for your makeup," he said. I looked at his hand, which was holding a makeup removing wipe. I relaxed.
"Oh," I said. "Sorry. It just scared me," I said, taking it from him. "You wear a lot of makeup?" I joked.
"No, but a lot of makeup gets on my black pillowcases," he said. I looked down, grateful that I hadn't gotten any on it. Yet. I would have if I'd fallen asleep on my side.
"Well thank you," I said. I wiped my face off and he got up. He walked out of the room for a second and I threw away the wipe in the trashcan by the bed. He came back in holding two phone chargers.
"Here," he said, tossing me one. I reached out my hand and caught it.
"Wow, you've got it all," I said.
"Actually, one of these is Sam's. He left it here earlier. But he has 8,000 of them so he won't notice," said Colby, squatting down by the side of the bed I was on and plugging his own phone in. I reached over and plugged mine in, too. He looked up at me when he was done, while I was getting my phone out of the pocket of his joggers, and just stared at me.