Page 43 of Bad at Love

Storm’s eyes narrow on me. He licks his lips before asking, “Do you want me to be honest?”

“Please.”

He opens his mouth before closing it. He sighs, then says, “You're hot, Gabriel. Really hot. And I’m assuming you don’t know much about porn, but uh, you’ve got the look.”

“The look of a porn star?” I ask. That’s shocking. Honestly, all of his words are. I’ve never considered myself to be all that attractive, never mindhot. I was called a nerd my entire life. Was told my hair is atrocious. My glasses are always an issue. Don’t get me started on the comments about the way I dress…

He barks out a laugh. “Sorry, that’s not funny. But yeah, you do.”

“How so?”

Storm hesitates just a moment before saying, “Well, outside of the way you look, it’s the way you act. The innocence of you. People love that. Especially gay porn.”

“You dogayporn?”

“Mostly. I guess now’s a good time to tell you I’m bi.” He gives me a forced smile. “The gay porn makes me more money, and I prefer men over women anyway, but like I said, I have been doing solo stuff, and I don’t judge who subs to my channel.”

“Subs?”

“Subscribers.”

Oh, right. That makes sense.

“Wait a minute,” I blurt out, something popping into my head. “Is this why you asked if I ever thought of making porn the other day?”

He bites back a smile. “Guilty.”

“You want me to make pornwithyou?” I ask, my heart beating a little faster.

“Well, I’d thought about it…”

“Why?”

He shrugs. “Money, of course. We’d make a ton of money.”

A ton of money?

“How much money?”

“I mean, I can’t be sure, but what I can tell you is that I lied about how much I make on my application.” He rolls his lips between his teeth, eyebrows shooting up in this sort ofcuteinnocent look.

“You don’t make a hundred thousand a year?”

“No, I make double that.”

That’s all I need to know. I’ve made up my mind. I’m making porn.

Chapter Eighteen

Storm

“And you’re sure you want to do this?” I ask.

Gabriel nods, but he doesn’t look so sure. He looks terrified. I’ve never been nervous doing this work, no matter who I’ve been with, but he’s got my nerves on edge. He’s standing by the door in my room, staring at my bed like he’s never seen one before.

“Maybe you should go jerk off or something first. You know, to relax,” I suggest.

His gaze darts up to me and there’s something in his look that tells me my thoughts about him doing that are correct. Ornotdoing that.

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