Page 3 of Loving Leo (Behind the Camera #4)

THREE

Leo

I’ve really tried to behave. I managed two days and really, the only reason I made it that long was because it was the weekend, but now that I’m back at work on Monday night, I can’t stop my hand from scrawling another message on Heath’s desk. The building is empty except for me and a few other workers on different floors and so, once again, I used my time in his office to get myself off. This time my scene featured a cock ring and a ball gag.

It was a lot of fun. Especially since he was still watching through that camera of his.

Well, maybe not actively watching, but it was sure as hell recording. And I bet he watches it all when he’s alone. Why else would he record it?

Do you touch yourself when you watch me? I bet you do.

I can’t help but antagonize him by writing that out, leaving it right where I know he’ll find it. I haven’t seen Heath again since that first night, but fuck, it’s been such fun thinking about him. Especially since I never did get fired for that little display .

Honestly, I really want to see him face to face again.

I want to watch him frown and scowl at me. I want to verbally spar with him. But for now, until we meet again, the little notes I leave satisfy me.

I stare down at the piece of paper with my handwriting scrawled across it and decide it looks a little too empty. So I draw a happy face on it and then draw a very immature cock and balls.

I snort and then knock my knuckles on the desk.

Alright, back to work. I have shit to do.

When I get back to my small apartment after cleaning that office building, I feel like the walls are nearly caving in on me. My eyes are tired, my body aching, and I long to crawl into bed and fall asleep, but I don’t have time. I need to edit the video I made and then get to work on finishing up my homework for the classes I’m taking at the community college.

Camming won’t always be a viable thing. I hope to build up a nice nest egg with my posts, but at the same time, I also have to think of the future. Which is why I’m also working on getting my nursing degree.

I gotta have a back up plan. If my mom taught me anything, its this.

Because she barely graduated from high school and ended up working far too many dead-end jobs. But she always manages to be positive despite still living paycheck to paycheck. And despite denying it, she’s always worried about paying her mortgage. I never want to be like that. I want to be able to help her pay for things. Maybe someday I’ll have enough money so she can retire. Finally let herself rest for the first time in her life.

“You awake?” my roommate Asher says when he catches me in my room, my books open all around me as I study and edit simultaneously. If I can do anything sufficiently it’ s multitasking.

I slide my headphones around my neck and grin at him.

“Yep. You know me.”

“You work far too hard,” he says, running a hand through his messy red hair.

“So do you,” I reply and Asher rolls his blue eyes. But he doesn’t argue with me. He can’t. He works just as hard, if not more than I do. “We can’t live in this shithole forever.”

“I know.”

“I think the ceiling is caving in though, so that’s new.”

He sighs and flops down on my bed. “Yeah, and I’m pretty sure that the neighbor is a murderer.”

“What?” I say, spinning in my chair. “Why do you think that?”

“He has murdery eyes. Probably stuffs bits of people into the air ducts.”

“Jesus,” I say with a mortified laugh. “That’s terrible. You’ve been watching way too many murder docs again.”

“I’m never giving up my murder docs.” He laughs and then shrugs, like his assumption about our neighbor isn’t the least bit terrifying. “Anyway, besides the ceiling caving in, we could also be breathing decomposition.”

“I mean, you do that anyways on a daily basis.”

“I do,” he says with a sly grin. Asher is working on getting his degree in forensic anthropology with the hopes of eventually working in criminal investigations. Don’t know how he manages it, but his obsession with all things dead is a little creepy. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he had a little crush on our murdery neighbor. “Today was very cool, by the way. We’ve been studying the decomposition of bodies in a bog.” He lifts up his arm and shows me a few swollen bumps on his arm. “Got bit by some nasty bugs. They itch like hell.”

“Maybe you should ask our neighbor if he has any ointment he can apply to it. While naked.”

He rolls his eyes. “I will not be doing that. I don’t want to end up dead. I just like studying the effects of death on the human body. It’s so fascinating.”

I arch an eyebrow at him, not sure how the two of us became friends. We’re so different. But we do have a few things in common. Like our love of romance novels, cheese and red wine.

Speaking of, I head toward the door leading out to the small kitchen, with the peeling counters and unhinged cabinet doors. “Look what I got the other day,” I say as I pull open the fridge. Inside is a box of discount wine and I waggle my eyebrows when Asher sees it.

“Oh, can we break it open?”

“Yep, I could use a drink. How about that?”

“Perfect,” he says and then leans against the counter and rubs at his tired eyes. “Anything new with the hottie with the body at the office?”

“Nope, we’ve just been leaving each other notes. It’s kinda fun to irritate him.”

“Oh I bet. Maybe I’ll leave a note for our neighbor.” His eyes flash in anticipation and then he taps his fingers on his lips. “Yeah, I think I will. See what he’s doing over there. Open a dialogue.”

I let out a huff of laughter. Yeah, that’s something, I guess. A dialogue. That’s not really what Heath and I are doing, but it sure is fun.

I don’t want to stop.

Asher stands up and grabs a piece of paper and scribbles something on it before striding to the door.

“Wait, you need tape!” I call out and he doubles back.

“Right. Right,” he murmurs to himself as he grabs a piece of masking tape and slaps it on the top of the paper.

“Be right back. If I’m not back, check the air ducts in his apartment.”

I let out a snort as he disappears, holding my breath. His fascination with our neighbor is a little weird, but I mean…I’m also jacking off in a stranger’s office at night. So I really can’t judge.

Suddenly, Asher reappears, slamming the door loudly and leaning against it .

“I taped it to his door just as he was walking out!” he squeaks.

I gasp and run toward him, flinging the lock shut and peering through the peephole. I can make out an oversized gray sweater and dark jeans. The guy is just standing there, his fingers stuffed in that sweatshirt of his.

“What’s he doing?” Asher asks, his voice nearly inaudible.

“Reading your note. What did you write?”

Asher swallows and lets out a mortified laugh. “I asked him to please stop grinding bones to bits in the middle of the night.”

“You did not!” I cry, my eyes wide.

Asher nods and then slaps a hand on his forehead so loud that the neighbor turns his dark gaze toward us, his eyes meeting mine through the hole in the door.

“Oh my, he’s hot in a murdery way,” I say and then Asher takes my spot, standing on his tiptoes and peering through the peephole.

“He’s just standing there.”

“You accused him of being a murderer.”

“Yes, well…he’s grinding things…bodies up in his tub.”

“There goes your fucking imagination again!” I nearly shout and then slap a hand over my mouth to keep myself from screaming.

I cannot believe him, writing a note like that. I expected him to invite him over for dinner, not accuse the poor dude of being a criminal.

“He’s not moving.”

“Well, go out there and apologize!”

“I’m not unlocking the damn door.”

“I can see you,” a deep voice says through the door and Asher gasps, nearly falling on his ass.

“The murderer has a sexy voice.”

“He does, oh my god. You have to go out there and blow him.”

“I do not!” Asher says and bursts out laughing. The sound of him sets me off and we both stand there, holding our stomachs and wheezing. Tears track down our cheeks until we are finally able to compose ourselves .

“Is he still there?”

Asher peers through the peephole and shakes his head. “No, thank god. But the note is missing.”

He pulls the door open and grabs the paper which is now taped to our door.

“Oh shit,” he says as he slams the door and stares down at it.

“What’s it say?” I ask and he hands it to me, fear and excitement in his eyes.

“He wants me to come over.”

“Oh my god! You can’t go.”

He shakes his head. “I have to. I’ve accepted my fate.”

“Asher,” I groan and he sighs.

“I’ll make sure you’re home when I go.”

“I better be. I won’t let you be chopped up and stuffed into the air ducts.”

“I don’t want that either.”

We stare at each other and Asher gestures to the fridge.

“Time to drink, I think.”

“Agreed.”

We pull the wine from the fridge and sit there, our eyes meeting, laughter spilling between us as we realize how ridiculous our lives are.

My mind moves to Heath and I bite my lip.

Yeah, fucking ridiculous.

It’s funny how I’ve only ever seen Heath Herold once in my entire life and now I seem to see him everywhere. Well, not everywhere, but out of a city filled with millions of people I find him in the most unexpected place. I’m striding down the grocery store aisle after class when I nearly run into him.

He’s dressed in jeans rolled up around his ankles, paired with sleek black boots. His biceps bulge in a tight gray shirt. His hair is neatly combed to the side, like some kind of fifties actor. Fuck, he’s a good looking guy.

Makes my mouth slightly dry.

“Hey there!” I say, a smile pulling my lips up. I can’t help it. We’ve only exchanged snarky letters in his office, but I kind of like the guy.

He’s funny in his own grumpy way.

He stares over at me, blinking. He knows who I am. I can tell by the way his eyes narrow and his lips turn down at the corners. I’m not deterred. I move toward him and peer into the basket hanging off his forearm.

“Oh, what a haul,” I say and then make a face. “Celery, peanut butter and avocados.”

He scoffs and then eyes the two five pound bags of M&Ms in my arms.

“At least I’ll live to be an old man,” he murmurs.

“Hey, do not diss the candy. They have peanuts in them. They’re healthy and on sale. And who says you’re not old?”

“I’m not.”

“Um, I beg to differ. You have to be at least eighty.”

His eye twitches and his cheeks turn a sexy shade of red. The color I’d imagine them turning if he was fucking into me.

“You’re wrong.”

“Am I? Shit. Do I need to go higher?”

He shifts on his feet and then sighs. “Fuck off. I don’t have time for your shit.”

He starts to walk off, but I traipse after him, too fucking intrigued by this man. And he has a nice ass. It’s fun to look at it in those pants.

“I was just kidding. I know you’re only like forty.”

“I’m thirty five.”

“Ah. My bad.”

I choke back a laugh as I follow him to the register.

“Is that all you’re getting?” I ask when he sets his basket down on the counter .

He doesn’t answer, just pulls out his phone and stalks toward the card machine. Without thinking, I reach over and put a small bag of candy into his basket and then set my M&Ms on the counter next to his, separating it with that little wand.

He pays without even looking at me and then grabs his bag and stalks out.

I want to follow him, to chat some more, but refrain. It’s fine. I kind of won that round and maybe if he eats that bag of candy, he’ll be a happier man. He could smile more, I think. I don’t know him, but he definitely should show those straight, white teeth more often. He spent a fortune on them, I’m sure.

He’s a rich guy. I looked him up. Spent an hour researching him online. There’s not much out there, but I gleaned enough.

Rich guy. Grumpy guy. Hot guy.

I grab a bag of Skittles from the checkout aisle and decide to leave him a note tonight as well as another bag of treats. He’s kind of like a cat. I have to earn that affection. And I always win people over.

It may take a while, but Heath will become my friend.

Maybe.

Hopefully.