Chris Evans is doing a press tour for his latest indie film. You're his good friend, even if sometimes you wish it could be ... more. He's interviewing on Jimmy Fallon and the interview goes off course and you don't know where that leaves you.
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[N...
"Dodger!" You called out, though he completely ignored you as he ran through the common. "Leave the damn squirrels alone!"
Dodger was thoroughly ignoring you, and you gave up and let him bark incessantly at a tree where the squirrels were hanging out on a low branch taunting him. The benches in the park had been cleared of snow from the storm, so you sat on one closest to Dodger to keep an eye on him. The common was quiet this time of day, most people either at work or hiding indoors from the slush filled mess that was the roads and streets. With the craziness of the last couple days, you'd taken the rest of the week off work, needing some time to wrap your head around ... well everything. Which meant more time for you and Dodger to hang out at the park.
Chris had left to continue his press tour the day before yesterday, and you were counting down the days until he came back. It still didn't quite feel real that only two days ago you'd woken up, wrapped in his arms, as though it was the most normal thing in the world. It had taken hours – and several orgasms – for the two of you to get out of bed. When it was time for him to drive back to New York, he'd been as reluctant to leave as you'd been to let him go. His team had apparently been flipping out when he left, and every minute he ignored their calls to make out with you against his car was likely sending them into an early grave from stress. You'd finally had to push him into his car, though he'd unrolled the window and you'd caved into kissing him again before he drove off.
Ding
The sound of an incoming text brought your focus back to the moment, and to Dodger who was now rolling in the snow, the squirrels long forgotten.
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The butterflies in your stomach were fluttering up a storm and you shoved your phone back in your pocket in a vain attempt to wipe the goofy smile off your face. Shaking your head, you looked up to check on Dodger – who had a fanclub. Two girls were fawning over him, his tail wagging as they cooed and squealed at him.
You walked over to where they were, clipping his leash on him before he had the chance to bolt after another squirrel.
"Is he your dog?" One of them asked, eyeing you skeptically. They both looked to be in their mid teens, and you didn't doubt for a second that they were correctly assuming exactly whose dog this was.
