Russ (18+) | ✔

19

Charlotte

I rolled my eyes at the idiotic comments posted beneath a picture of Russ and I walking out of my doctor's office. I wasn't pregnant, infected, or infertile, and these people had way too much time on their damned hands.

One visit to the gyno and these people thought they could predict everything. My only safety net in this shitty situation was my face mask.

I rolled my eyes at yet another blog post that had so much to say about my nonexistent pregnancy. Seriously, you get one hickey in a sensitive place and the world feels like it's their business to know! 

I resumed my task of reading the reviews left on blogs about my newest case. Criss Angel- crappy white rapper, with a much larger fan base than anyone could believe. For all we knew, he could be following himself from dozens of fan accounts. But his manager and agent decided that following his use of the n-word, Criss was in need of professional help.

I'd been forced to work from Russ's penthouse as there were always a couple of cameras waiting to get pictures of us going anywhere.

I let out a loud exhale as my phone began to ring. Mr. Grimes was calling again, for the fourth time this morning and was getting increasingly harder to ignore. Shaking my head with a sigh, I answered the call. "Yes?"

"Chase, you either need to do a face reveal or the two of you need to start uploading happy pictures. My sources tell me they're about to write you off as just another fling," Mr. Grimes stated in a bored tone. 

"What? Half of them think I'm pregnant, check your sources," I exclaimed incredulously.

"Just did. Refresh your sources, Chadwick. They're starting to do the one thing they're bad at; think. 'Maybe Baby Ending Mercer Relationship?' They have over two million reads on an article that claims you were pregnant, and that the loss of your baby will result in the end of your relationship."

I groaned, running my fingers through my hair. "Okay. So we can post pictures or whatever, and everything will turn good again?"

"It's not that simple. You know how fans are, if their one favorite team member fucks up, there's a fifty-fifty chance they won't like the entire team after that. You have to make them love you."

"Fine," I sighed. 

"You can't just be together and expect that to be the end. You walked into this with a mask on. No matter how insignificant Mercer may seem outside of the sports world, you've got everyone's attention now. And no offense but, he's right beside you with significantly more to lose."

"Yeah I get that but-"

Without so much as a goodbye, Mr. Grimes ended the call, leaving me to figure out the best way to resolve my current issue.

"How the hell is he the boss again?" I grumbled to myself, tossing my phone across the bed.

. . .

I had just got finished instructing Criss to post a formal apology that I had written for him, one not made with the Notes app when Russ walked into the room.

"Hey Candy."

"Hi," I mumbled.

Russ chuckled in disbelief, "That's all I get? 'Hi?'"

Pursing my lips at his statement, I sucked my teeth before responding in the most sarcastic tone I could muster. "Hello, Russ Mercer. It is your girlfriend Charlotte, I am greeting you after a long day of you doing sports shit. How the hell are you?"

"Now that's more like it," Russ smiled, giving me a swift kiss on the cheek.

"Russ," I began, stopping to bite my lip. "Grimes said we have to show people how happy we are together. What do you think we should do?"

Russ stood silently before he plopped down on the bed beside me. "Well aside from you doing a face reveal, I'm not sure," he stated, gently rubbing the back of my thigh.

I sighed, knowing he was right, but still unwilling to subject myself to that type of scrutiny. "Selfies it is then. Go get dressed, we have to coordinate."

Russ laughed at my statement before seeing the serious look on my face. "What, seriously? We have to match?" Russ exclaimed, eyes widening in stupefied horror.

I narrowed my eyes at him, giving him my most serious stare. "Not match. Coordinate."

. . .

"Okay, wait, you hold the phone," I ordered Russ as I repositioned my hair.

It had taken all of forty-five minutes for us to even remotely agree on an outfit together. Then afterward, we needed to decide how to pose, so that we wouldn't reveal too much about my identity. Russ wore a white t-shirt, and black jeans, while I only ore a pair of white jeans, my breasts free from restraint.

He groaned in annoyance and rolled his eyes at me. "Why can't you hold it?" he hissed, crossing his arms over his chest.

 I leaned back and stared at him dumbly, cupping my breasts in my hands. "Do you want everyone to see my tits?"

Russ looked down, his tongue coming out to lick his lower lip as his glazed eyes found my chest. Shaking himself out of his daze, Russ pursed his lips. "I'll hold the phone."

"Thought so," I huffed, pulling his right arm to be positioned on the small of my back, beneath my hair. "Why do you have a full-length mirror anyway?"

Russ clicked his tongue, chuckling weakly. Hesitating slightly he gave his reply, "Extracurricular activities."

I smiled. "Ah. We'll have to have fun with that later."

 Russ choked on air, blushing a light pink color before he steeled his expression for the camera. 

"Make a video, so we can go through all the frames until we find the best one," I ordered, fighting the urge to look back at the floor length mirror, or straight into the other one.

"That's so unnecessary. Here, done," Russ announced, thrusting his phone into my hands.

I studied the two photos he had taken. One was instantly dismissable as he had been talking and looked annoyed, but the other was actually acceptable. "Not bad for a first-timer."

"I've got an Associate of Arts degree. Don't even try it, Candy," Russ said smugly, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the counter with a grin, his gaze dropping to my bare breasts.

"Yeah, yeah," I smiled. "Grimes approved. It's posted. Bedtime."

😊✌️