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Arlo: What kind of clothes should I wear tomorrow?

Me: A suit, I guess?

Arlo: Hypothetically, where should I buy a suit?

I chuckled. Did my baby not own a suit? Well, I would have to fix that.

Instead of texting back and forth, struggling to read between the lines to what he was hinting at, I hit DIAL, putting him on speakerphone because I couldn’t hold a phone up to my ear while Victor was working on my hair.

As soon as I heard the call picked up, I said, “Hey, sweetie,” emphasizing the endearment to make sure he understood there were listening ears. “What’s with all the questions? There’s no need to stress.”

“I just don’t know how to dress since you haven’t told me where we’re going. Is it fancy… babe?” he tacked on at the end. His voice was tight, anxious, and even calling me a cutesy name didn’t lighten the mood.

I didn’t like the idea of him being worried. He was so beautiful when he smiled, and the thought of his lips turned down in a frown instead made me want to do whatever it took to put him at ease. I wanted to make him smile again. “You know what? Wear whatever makes you comfortable. I’m taking you shopping first.”

“What? No, no, that’s not—”

“Nope, too late. My mind is made up,” I said firmly, cutting him off. The fact that he didn’t want me to spoil him rotten only made me more determined.

He was spluttering on the other end of the phone, trying to argue with me, when the trailer door opened and a woman stuck her head in through the door. “Max, you’re needed on set.”

I waved at her, then picked up my phone and turned off speakerphone, holding it to my ear. “Hey, Arlo, I have to go. Just be ready for me at four, okay?” Then, before I could second-guess myself, I blurted, “Love you,” breaking yet another rule. I quickly hung up before he felt obligated to say it back. It wasn’t like I actually expected him to feel it—I’d only said it because it was expected of me as his future husband—and since nobody was listening to his side of the conversation now, he didn’t have to say it to keep up appearances, but a small part of me longed to hear it from him anyway. It was a dangerous thing to crave.

With a light, buoyant giddiness carrying me all the way to the set, I smoothed over my expression as I came up to my co-star, Devon Blake, on the staged café patio. He smirked and shook his head. “Oh, please, don’t even try to act like you aren’t all loved up. I saw that grin you were wearing when you stepped out of your trailer. I’m so jealous.”

I laughed, fighting a blush. “Hey, don’t be a hater. It’s not like you haven’t had plenty of chances to find love. You’ve had women practically falling over each other trying to get your attention.”

He shrugged but grinned as he leaned up against the wrought-iron fence around the patio. “What can I say? No one has managed to hold my interest long enough to say ‘I do.’ One day, maybe.”

“Uh-huh. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Devon was what I liked to call a serial dater. Every single one of his girlfriends seemed serious on paper, and there was always some adorable couple name from his fandom, like Devra when he was dating a woman named Kara last month. But the hot-and-heavy romance always seemed to fizzle out so quickly.

The director called us over to get into our positions for the scene so they could take readings of the lighting for the cameras. Devon was watching me shrewdly. “So… why is this the first time I’m hearing about this fiancé? I’m impressed you were able to keep it a secret until now. How long have you been dating?” Was it just my imagination or did he sound suspicious?

“We met when he was on holidays in LA last year,” I said, giving the backstory Arlo and I had agreed on. We’d had to come up with a story for the article, and we kept it as simple as possible to keep straight. “As cheesy as it sounds, it was love at first sight, but we don’t live anywhere near each other, so we kept in touch online. And you know what they say… distance makes the heart grow fonder.” I offered up a sweet smile that came far too easily when I pictured the way Arlo and I had actually met.

Devon laughed, shaking his head. “Oh man, you’ve got it bad. Is this going to affect our on-screen chemistry?”

“Does the fact that you prefer women affect our on-screen chemistry?” I sassed back, raising an eyebrow.

He held his hands up in surrender. “Okay, fair enough. Point taken.”

The movie we were filming, Summer of Love, was exactly what it sounded like—sweet, romantic fluff—and it was exactly what my fanbase expected from me. My publicist was so excited over the timing of my engagement, because it hyped up the film without even trying. Meanwhile, I couldn’t help but feel… bored. The movie was dull, yet another rom-com like every other movie I’d done for the past five years.

We went through the scene in a few takes, and I recited my lines, pouring on the charm. Crowds had gathered to watch, pedestrians and fans taking out their phones to snap pictures, but the whole thing seemed tired to me. Instead of the excitement I used to get, the thrill of being watched and adored, now I just I felt… fake. Strained. Exhausted.

We took a break for lunch before moving to the next set. A quick wardrobe change, a touch-up of makeup, and it was on to filming another scene. Depending on weather and cast health, the movie would be wrapped up within a couple months, and then it would be on to the next movie, and Arlo… would stay here. Because our relationship wasn’t real. He wasn’t my fiancé, or even my boyfriend. We would stage our breakup, and life would go back to normal.

Between takes, I found myself sighing, a deep melancholy sinking into my bones at the idea of our impending deadline. Well, if we were temporary, then I was going to make the most of every second we had together. First things first, I would take Arlo shopping and buy him a whole new wardrobe. Dinner? That was a given, but I needed to do more. The hotel doorman, Gerry, had said something about a concert in the park, hadn’t he?

A sly grin spread on my lips. Operation Romance the Literal Pants Off Arlo began to form in my mind, because you could be damn sure I wouldn’t be following his stupid rules if it meant never getting to taste Arlo’s sweet slick. What was the point of it all if we weren’t fully enjoying each other? He knew my dark desires and didn’t even blink. I wanted to knead my fingers into his tender ass cheeks while bottoming out inside him, and listening to him moan around my cock as I came down his throat.

I discreetly adjusted my pants. Great, now I had to act like I didn’t have a raging hard-on.

9

Arlo

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