R. Griffin - Seamless

“Hey, MVP,” she said when he picked up.

“Don’t fucking jinx my shit, Stella.” His voice was tired.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine. Just trying to ease into tomorrow.”

Stella thought she heard something else in his voice, but it was so hard to read people over the phone. “You sure? You don’t want to order an in-room massage?”

“That would be really nice.” He laughed and it was genuine.

“What’s on your mind, baller?”

He sighed. “You’re only as good as your last play, Stella, you remember that.”

“Jesse, you’re having a kickass season. What’s this about?”

“I’m 34, Stella. I’m getting old in this industry. My fucking body hurts for two days after games now instead of one. I’m trying to look at the big picture and still play my fucking heart out.”

“Well, that’s understandable,” she acknowledged. “You’re still in your prime, though.”

“I’m also trying to make sure we get your friend Jamie in a place that he gets what he deserves.”

“Jesse, don’t. I got this. I have him dead to rights admitting to everything. Leave it to me. I got this, I promise.”

“Oh yeah, it went well?”

“Check fucking mate,” she confirmed.

“Good.” His voice sounded a little lighter.

“Jesse. Why are you worried about me? I’m fine.” She shifted on the couch, pulling her blanket tighter around her.

“Your being ‘fine’ with everything that’s going on makes me very nervous, Stella.”

“I’ve finally got a handle on everything. There’s an end in sight and it’s making it all bearable. Really, it’s getting better,” she soothed.

“Okay,” Jesse said, resigned. “I saw the interview, I thought you came off real good. Likable.”

“Well, we all know that’s a lie.”

Laughing, Jesse agreed.

“I mean, I should’ve hired ABC News to be my publicist.”

“They did you justice, that’s for sure. How did your work think it went?”

“Christine loved it and calls have been pouring in to talk to the FBI Beauty.” She sighed.

“Well, use it while it lasts because it won’t last forever.”

“Fuck, I hope not.”

“I’m glad to hear your voice, it’s a little lighter than usual.”

“Don’t you fucking jinx me.” She laughed. “Can’t wait to see the game tomorrow. Do good. Fuck some people up.”

“Just for you,” he promised before he hung up.

George was sitting at a Mexican restaurant in the Denver airport when his phone dinged with a Vox from Stella.

“I’m here. Where are you?” Her voice coming from his phone made him smile. She’d talked him into having their weekend together over Thanksgiving, instead of spending it in DC. He was pretty sure it was because she didn’t want to be with his family this year. George didn’t blame her, it wasn’t like they were that welcoming to her. Kara, John, and Finn were always their saving graces during the time they had to be around family. Finn loved Stella and followed her everywhere she went.

“At a bar, of course, in the Mexican restaurant. I’m the one with a boner,” he said quietly into his phone.

The sound of her laughter rang out through his phone and he smiled. It was one of his favorite sounds.

“Hurry up and let’s get to the hotel.” George nodded at the bartender and looked over his shoulder as he grabbed his bag and patted his pocket.

“I’m the one running, yelling into my phone.”

He drained his Pacifico Clara and put a twenty on the table. He turned to see Stella walking through the airport. Fuck, she looks amazing. She was wearing a grey sweater that had sort of a bigger collar and black leggings with her knee-high grey boots. She was letting her hair grow out a bit, he liked it; the shorter version looked sharp and hard, but this was much softer. A smile almost split her face in half when she saw him and her legs moved quicker toward him. Relief flooded his body; he was so tense when he was without her. Stella, the hurricane that she was, brought him some sort of weird peace.

George strode over and wrapped his arms around her, leaning in to kiss her. Forgetting his surroundings, he let his tongue search her mouth and she moaned, then pulled back a bit.

“We may want to wait at least until we get in the car for that,” she said, her lipstick smudged on her face.

He took his thumb and wiped at the smudges around her lips. She smirked.

“Did you buy half a sweater?” he asked, taking in the hole in the back of her sweater.

“No,” she laughed, “apparently this is the style.”

“You have no back to your sweater,” George said, running his hands down her back and inside her sweater.

“Watch it.” Stella skirted away from him. “You can’t be putting your hands there in public,” she warned.

“The car. We need to get to the rental car, now.” George took her bag and rushed to the escalator.

They followed the signs, which led them to a bus to take them to the car rental company. George couldn’t keep his hands off her; not seeing her every day was turning him into an adolescent. When they finally got to the car rental company, they walked in to see all the employees gathered to greet them. Ugh. He quickly filled out the paperwork and went out to the car, where the employee attempted to talk them into getting car insurance for “animal attacks.” Is this a Saturday Night Live skit?

George smiled, but Stella burst out in obnoxious laughter, accompanied by a couple of snorts. He started laughing while he signed the last contract and got in the car. As soon as he shut his door, he laughed harder.

“Better watch out for animal attacks,” he reminded her. “Be vigilant.”

Stella nodded, still snorting. “Fucking animals.”

They drove to the hotel while they chatted aimlessly, which was comforting because George was nervous about the weekend. Since they’d gotten back together, it’d been Stella’s shooting, recovery, the press, the kidnapping, the trial, getting Jamie arrested, and whatever else was going on in her life. They’d never just “had a weekend” together to do whatever they wanted, talk about whatever they wanted.

George pulled the rental into the Four Seasons.

Stella’s eyebrows rose. “Wow.”

“What?” He shrugged. He knew she considered it entirely too fancy, but he wanted this weekend to be perfect and carefree.

“Snooty,” she quipped, winking at him.

Stella stepped out of the car and George saw his favorite part of her body as she got out, the curve right under ass. It was perfect; he could trace that curve for hours. She dipped her head down so she could see him. “Come on. I’m starving and need hydration via alcohol.”

George followed her into the hotel after tipping the valet and having their bags taken up. The sweater dipped so far down in the back that he could see both tattoos. Fuck. They checked in and were in the elevator by themselves within minutes. He pushed her back against wall and lifted her, pulling her legs around his waist and devouring her mouth. The elevator slowed and stopped too soon. He sat her feet back on the floor and whispered, “I miss you.”

She was silent, but grabbed his hand and followed him to their room.

They stayed in bed and ordered room service for dinner, breakfast and lunch. Stella was spent and fell into a peaceful sleep after lunch. George looked over at her laying on the bed, naked, and sighed. They hadn’t put clothes on since they got there. He stretched, walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. The mirror fogged up within minutes and George traced words on the mirror, the words that were on the tip of his tongue but he couldn’t quite say. Then he watched them fill in and disappear. The scalding water soothed him and the coconut soap reminded him of Stella.

He heard Stella yell as he wrapped the towel around his waist.

“No!” she sobbed. “No, Jamie…NO!”

George ran into the room and found her thrashing, fighting something, someone, in her sleep. He tentatively put a hand on her and she stilled. “Love. It’s me,” he soothed. He hated this, seeing her like this and knowing there was nothing he could do to help.

She whimpered and sobbed again, not awake yet.

George leaned in closer and kissed her mouth. “It’s me, Love,” he whispered in her ear, “you’re safe.”

Her eyes flew open with realization and resignation. “Sorry,” she muttered, turning away from him.

“Don’t apologize.” George tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “I thought you were doing better.”

She shrugged. “Sometimes.”

“Babe, come on, you can tell me,” he urged.

She sighed. “My nightmares are worse lately. Denise put me on different medication, but it doesn’t seem to matter.”

He sat on the bed, his back rubbing against her side, and looked out the window. “You know, all of this will be over soon.”

Stella nodded. “I hope so.”

“FBI going to arrest him?” he asked.

“I think so, but I haven’t heard from Harris since I got him to admit everything. I just figure they’re doing their bureaucratic pissing contest shit.”

“That’s probably true. I’m sure he’ll get you an update when they’re ready to move.” George pulled her hand into his and intertwined their fingers. “Well, let’s get ready and go get beer and snacks to tailgate, okay?”

Stella kissed the back of his hand and then stretched her arms above her head. Her fingers grazed the headboard and the sheet fell, exposing her breasts. He leaned down and pulled her nipple into his mouth. He felt her hands in his hair.