Sincerely,
William Gentry
Luckiest Contest Winner on Earth
I sat back and smiled at my handiwork. Sometimes I took my scene responsibilities too seriously, so today’s lighthearted theme should be fun. After our little spat, I figured I should do a scene that was on the less serious side, just to loosen her up. Show her I wasn’t mad.
Aside from small arguments, things have been . . . wonderful. I was still in awe of all that has transpired. I really couldn’t be happier. Aside from the strange text messages she’s been receiving for the last few days—ones she refuses to talk about, I might add—things have never been better.
Cerise fit into my life like a puzzle piece that’s been under the couch for years.
I sent the “fan mail” off to Cerise during her lunch break—she had told me how much faster the day goes by because of my correspondences, so I made sure to send her at least a little note every day, even on surprise days. Today, instead of an e-mail, I had flowers delivered with that little card.
They were, however, exceptionally steamy and sensual. I was getting quite good at writing smut.
Today I set up our bedroom like an intimate café, a quaint Italian bistro. I had baked fresh bread earlier, and was working on a good recipe for gelato when someone left a package at the door. I ignored it for the time being and poured the silky mixture into the ice cream machine to freeze.
The plaid tablecloth was set, the silverware polished to a perfect shine, and I was dressed in my most casual of outfits—a concert tee paired with some ripped jeans and a camera around my neck. I wanted to look the part of a fanboy, and I think I managed to nail the look. I even threw on—heaven forbid Harvey ever saw this—a baseball cap. Today I was a member of Red Sox Nation.
Soon the truck pulled in and I held the camera to my eyes, ready to snap some photos of my favorite actress.
“Miss Norrel! Miss Norrel!” I shouted as I clicked the camera wildly. I ran up to her and shook her hand vigorously. “You’re even more beautiful in person!” I exploded, gushing compliments at this goddess of an actress.
Cerise’s face bloomed with a scarlet blush and she lowered her eyes. Even though this was just a scene, I loved the effect my compliments had on her. It was like she had no idea how beautiful she was.
“William, a pleasure,” she said, holding out her hand for me to escort her inside. “I’m glad my publicist set up this contest,” she purred, lowering her dark sunglasses and looking me up and down. “You’re not exactly what I expected.”
I smiled, escorting her to the “café.” “You’re more than I expected,” I breathed. “Please, sit.”
She sat demurely at the table and placed the folded napkin in her lap. Her dinner sat under a large silver dome and I removed it with gusto. “The chef sent over his finest dish for you, Miss Norrel,” I stammered, “Kobe beef meatballs and homemade pasta in a Barolo wine sauce.”
She licked her lips not so subtly, and corrected me. “Please, call me Cerise.”
I nodded enthusiastically. “Wow,” I said, grinning. “Cerise.”
“Tell me a little about yourself, William,” she asked, daintily cutting into a meatball and tasting. Her face spoke of culinary pleasure as I told her about my life as a perpetual graduate student.
“How about you?” I asked, leaning over the table, eager to hear her answer. “What projects are you working on? Any role you’re trying to get?” I asked.
She shrugged, and speculated on a few roles she’d like. “I got turned down for the role of a pierced, tattooed crime solver, which was a disappointment.”