Ghosts (A Christian Yelich Story)

Chapter Eleven: Christian, Cameras

Author's note: I'm posting two chapters in one day because the Brewers are making me, and probably you, sad. Enjoy, and like or comment if you're into this. ❤

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Christian and I were exhausted after running around the castle for hours in total darkness. We got ready for bed in the bathroom – just like we had done the previous night. At this point, we were just happy to be able to see one another in the light.

"This is the most consecutive nights I've spent with the same woman in a long time," Christian said as he applied toothpaste to his brush.

"Emphasis on same, right?" I joked before disappearing into a stall to change into pajamas.

"I'm not that bad!" he exclaimed through a mouthful of toothpaste. I just laughed to myself as I finished changing.

When I emerged from the stall, Christian had already stripped down to his boxers and was ready to go. Once again, I tried to not pay attention to the fact he was mostly naked and attempted to casually continue our conversation to get my mind off his perfect abs and weirdly attractive, gangly legs. "So, what's the rate for a professional baseball player? Two, maybe three, women per week?"

Christian busted out laughing. "Not even close. I mean, it's not out of the question for other guys, and I've slipped up every now and then, but I play it pretty safe most of the time. Just a few women I like to see depending on the city I'm in." He shrugged. I found his honesty pretty refreshing. "What about you? What's the rate for a famous actress?" he questioned, applying some pressure on me this time around.

"First of all, I'm not really famous."

Christian snorted. "Oh, come on. I recognized you right away. I did not, however, recognize the other women, and I'm from Los Angeles."

"The rate is one guy at a time – not necessarily a relationship at a time – just someone to spend a night with or whatever. I like guys with boring jobs – accountants, engineers, IT analysts – that I find on dating apps. I'm trying to stay away from having a celeb couple name any time soon."

"I wonder why," Christian pondered jokingly. "Asher sucks." He paused for a moment before asking, "Is an MLB player boring enough? After all, a lot of people find baseball boring."

I rolled my eyes – not taking him very seriously. "I think there would be just as much drama to be had with a baseball player or any professional-level athlete."

"But maybe not," he said coyly, as we walked back to our room.

"When it comes down to it, relationships are more dependent on personalities and chemistry than job titles, but job titles also define us as people to a larger audience. Then we start to take up some of those traits. I think I just mesh better with the people not driven by fame."

"Are you driven by fame?" Christian asked.

"Not so much. I'm driven by the desire to be really good at something. I just picked acting for whatever reason. Don't get me wrong – my supporters are amazing. I just don't get a lot of internal validation from attention."

Christian nodded to signal he understood. "Same." He crawled into his side of the bed.

"I'm freezing," I muttered, hopping into bed and pulling the covers tightly against my body. "It's so drafty in here all the time."

"You can get closer to me. I don't bite, and I radiate heat. A lot of it." He patted the bed next to him, and nervousness flooded over me. What was this about? Was he joking? I was deliberately trying not to get too close to him, but he was actually making it pretty difficult to want to stay away.

"You want me to sleep next to you?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Yeah, I mean, you're cold. I have a body that internally regulates to 98.6 degrees. I can help." He patted the bed next to him again.

"The cameras don't shut down until 4:00." Did I want to be close to him?

"So? Two grown adults sleeping next to one another is a non-story." He reached over to turn off the lamp on his nightstand – making the room go black. "You can now make your decision in the dark." From the tone of his voice, I could tell he was enjoying this.

Against my best judgment, I moved next to him, allowing our sides to touch ever so slightly.

"All right," Christian started, "A little better, but this position probably won't help you get much warmer."

"What do you want me to do?" I asked softly.

"Here," he said, quickly moving his arm around me and pulling me closer to him. We were now face-to-face, and the front of my body was pressed against his pretty tightly. "Warmer?" he asked.

"Yes," I breathed.

"Good," he responded. "Your skin is really cold." He brushed his thumb across my face and then rested his hand on my cheek. My stomach was churning from nerves. I get a lot of attention from guys, but this felt different, and I didn't know how to handle it.

I didn't know what to do or say, so I laid my head down on his chest. He wrapped an arm under and around me. "You okay?" he asked. He seemed to ask me that a lot.

I was having trouble creating a coherent response, but I managed to get out another "Yes."

"Good. Can I kiss you now?" His tone was more serious than it was before.

"Christian, cameras . . ."

"Okay, if they're a problem for you, can I wake you up at exactly 4:00 am and kiss you?"

What I should have said is "No," but what I said was, "Let's just see what happens."

Christian squeezed me tighter. "I'll accept that."