Page 4 of The Money Shot

“I’ll have the same,” Brad said, then nudged Liam. “What about you?”

“Another beer for me,” Liam replied, his eyes darting between me and the waitress.

I felt his stare and looked up, but he quickly shifted his attention to Brad’s phone, a slight flush creeping up his neck. Something twisted in my chest, but I pushed it aside. We had more pressing matters to deal with.

“Wait, go back,” I said, grabbing Brad’s wrist. “That one in Long Island City.”

The listing filled the screen: a stunning three-bedroom in one of those gleaming glass towers that had sprung up along the waterfront. Two bathrooms, three bedrooms, a doorman, and views of Manhattan that made my current fourth-floor Airbnb feel like a prison cell. The photos showed sleek hardwood floors, marble countertops, and floor-to-ceiling windows that caught the sunset. It was exactly the kind of place we’d talked about during late-night study sessions, back when New York was just a distant dream.

“This can’t be right,” I muttered, checking the price again. It was high, sure, but split three ways? Actually doable.

Brad whistled low. “Best place we’ve seen so far. Those views alone...”

“The commute wouldn’t be bad either,” Liam added, perking up. “One stop into Manhattan.”

“So why not take a shot?” Brad was already hitting the call button. “I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? We waste an afternoon looking at an amazing apartment?”

Liam and I exchanged glances, and I saw my mix of hope and skepticism reflected in his eyes. But Brad was already speaking into his phone, his ‘lawyer voice’ in full effect.

“Yes, hello, I’m calling about the three-bedroom unit in The Grand.” He paused, listening. “Tomorrow afternoon? Perfect. Yes, three of us.” Another pause. “Bradley Wellington. Great, we’ll see you then.”

He hung up, grinning. “Tomorrow at two. The realtor said we’re the first to view it.”

“First to view it?” I repeated, that nagging feeling returning. “For a place this good?”

But Brad was already pulling up his calendar, and Liam was talking about taking an early lunch break to make theappointment. The bourbon had left a warm glow in my chest, making everything seem just a little more possible.

“Just imagine,” I said, tracing a finger around the rim of my glass. “A place where I wouldn’t feel embarrassed to bring my family,” I said, tracing a finger around the rim of my glass. “Dad’s been begging to see where I live, but...” I trailed off, thinking of the cramped rental I was staying in until we could find a place together. He’d be horrified by the squalor, but it was all I could afford.

Brad cleared his throat abruptly. “Speaking of going,” he glanced at his watch, “I should head out.” He raised his hand, catching the server’s attention. It was the same deflection I’d seen countless times over the years, that instant shift whenever family came up. Sometimes I wondered if anyone really knew Bradley, or if we only knew the carefully curated version he allowed us to see.

The waitress appeared, still wearing that megawatt smile. “Can I get you anything else?” she asked, her eyes fixed on me, twirling a strand of hair around her finger.

“Just the check, thanks,” I said, already reaching for my wallet.

From the corner of my eye, I caught Liam watching me again, his expression unreadable in the dim light. When our eyes met, he glanced away, suddenly very interested in his empty glass. The waitress’s smile dimmed slightly as she dropped off the check, and I had the vague sense I’d missed something.

We split the bill three ways and made our way outside. The rain had cleared, leaving behind that fresh, clean smell that sometimes cut through the city’s usual potpourri of hotgarbage and food cart grease. The sidewalk glistened under the streetlights, and the air felt electric with possibility.

“I’m telling you,” Brad called over his shoulder as he walked ahead, his voice carrying more than it should, “this apartment is going to change everything. We’re going to be like... real adults.”

“As opposed to fake adults?” Liam laughed, falling into step beside me.

Our hands brushed as we walked, and something sparked between us—literal static electricity from the lingering storm, probably, but it sent a shiver up my arm, anyway. I smiled, and for a moment, I had the overwhelming urge to reach out and take his hand. It would be easy, natural even. We were both out, both single, both...

Liam’s fingers grazed mine again, and this time, it didn’t feel like an accident. I studied his profile in the street light—the sharp line of his jaw, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed at something Brad was saying. How had I never thought about him this way before? We’d always just been Jack and Liam, best friends, nothing more.

Reality crashed back in like an icy wave. I’d seen too many friendships implode after failed relationships, watched too many friend groups fracture when couples split. What we had—this easy friendship, this trust—it was too precious to risk. Friendships lasted. Relationships burned bright and fast and left ashes in their wake.

Chapter Three

Liam

The train screeched to a stop, and we spilled out onto the platform, Bradley marching ahead like he owned the place, and Liam and I trailing behind. The humidity slapped us the second we left the air-conditioned car, that late-summer New York City heat bearing down on us like a thick, sweaty blanket. I loosened my tie, shooting a glance at Liam, who was doing the same, his white dress shirt already sticking to his back.

Bradley was talking—well, bragging, really—about his new job. “Associate partner,” he said for what felt like the hundredth time, his voice full of the kind of confidence that only someone who hasn’t yet started the job can muster. “They wanted someone with my experience, my connections. You know how it is.”

“Must be nice,” I said, mostly to be polite, but also because it was Bradley, and any hint of sarcasm would just fly over his head, anyway. I glanced at Liam, catching the faintest smirk on his face. He said nothing, but I knew he was thinking the same thing I was—Bradley talked a big game, and we both knew he loved embellishing. Associate partner? I’d bet half my paycheck he was a glorified intern.

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