Page 30 of 10 Ways to Accidentally Fall in Love

She has us do another few poses, each one having Brad and me connected in some way. He never once shies away, never flinches. The entire session is an exercise in restraint.

When our hour is nearly up, Gianna has me sit on the chaise, my feet touching the floor. She has Brad settle on my lap.

“Okay, Mr. Bradley, you’re going to wrap your arms over his shoulders,” Gianna says. “Yep. Like that. Have one hand splayed on his back. Yep. The other in his hair. There you go.”

Gianna heads around behind me, and I close my eyes. Brad’s soft breaths pass near my ear, and my fingers hold tight to his back. For a moment, I let myself enjoy the heat of him and the feel of his chest against my own. I let myself imagine, even, that the possession I feel in his grip is real.

Knowing this is it—my last chance—I slip one hand down to his ass and turn my lips against his neck. It’s not so much a kiss as a press, but it’s enough. I inhale him. Breathe him in. The scent of the pomade in his hair overwhelms his usual smell, but it’s still there, a subtle note underneath it all.

His grip in my hair tightens, his chest rising against my own.

“You guys did wonderfully,” Gianna says, her voice as good as glass shattering for the way it causes Brad to flinch away from me. He carefully steps off my lap, and I let him go. “You can go ahead and change back, and I’ll get a flash drive ready for you to take home with you.”

“Thanks,” Brad says before giving me a small smile. “That was good, right? Kinda fun?”

“Yeah,” I tell him, cataloguing every inch of him while he’s still in front of me. Even though I know I’ll have pictures to remind me, it won’t be the same. “This was a really inventive date idea, bub. You did good.”

He flushes with happiness, looking so lovely it physically hurts.

“Shall we?” I ask.

He nods, and we head out through the curtained doorway. I watch him slip inside his changing room before stepping into my own. As I unclip my suspenders and toss my briefs into the provided laundry bin, my mind stays on Brad. It’s pathetic, really, the way I imprinted on him like a duckling. I don’t know how to turn this infatuation off. How to stopwanting.

I told myself this would be it. That, after this, I’d let it go.

I don’t know how.

Could it work, being friends with Brad? Could my feelings fade, given some time? Surely they would.

I hang on to that hope as I leave the dressing room, waiting for Brad in front of the sample photographs I first assumed were art on the walls.

A boudoir photoshoot.

Only Brad.

“Hey,” he says, joining me, a grin on his face. His hair is still wavy and styled, quite the visual contrast to his t-shirt and jeans. “I can’t wait to see our pics, man. I’m gonna hang one on my wall.”

It takes a second for his words to compute. “You…want to hang a half-naked picture of us on your wall?”

“Yeah, why not? I’ve never had my picture taken professionally before. Feels like a big deal.”

“What if someone sees it?” I ask.

He cocks his head. “And?”

“I mean…they’d probably assume we’re together.”

Would that not bother him?

Brad simply shrugs. “Sounds like athemproblem if that’s an issue.”

I can’t formulate a single response before Gianna sweeps through the curtain. “Here we go, fellas,” she says brightly, holding out a thumb drive. “Your photos.”

Brad accepts it with a thanks.

“I have to say,” Gianna goes on, “you two were wonderful to work with. I think Mr. Delgado is lucky his date didn’t show.”

Brad shakes his head. “Nah, I’m the lucky one.”

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