Page 64 of Sebastian

“I mean, yeah, there are dicks and mouths and holes and—” I groan and cover my face with my hands. I can’t believe I’m saying this shit out loud. “It’s not real. It’s just physical. Like, when you’re slacking while lifting weights. Sure, you might work up a sweat, and your muscles might be a little sore after, but you’re not really building muscles or getting stronger because the weights are too light. You’re just going through the motions.”

Donnie and Gavin glance at each other like they might actually understand what I’m saying. We’re all quiet for long enough that I hold out hope that we’re going to move on.

Then Gavin tilts his head. “So it really wouldn’t bother you?”

I know they’re just trying to look out for me so I take a second to actually consider his question. Would it bother me if Sebastian kept performing with other guys? With guys like Noel, maybe, where they’re friends and they get along and they care about each other.

I try to picture it. I poke at the idea. I think back to that video of Sebastian and Noel that I’ve jerked off to half a dozen times. I remember the awards show, meeting Noel in person, and seeing how protective he was of Sebastian. I feel something, but I don’t think it’s jealousy. It doesn’t twist me up on the inside or make my fingers clench into fists. No, it feels more like affinity, like Noel and I have something special in common, like we’re on the same side. If anything, I’m glad that Sebastian has a friend like Noel, a friend who is willing to look out for him, who came to me because he knew I was what Sebastian needed.

I look Gavin in the eye, then Donnie, more certain of my answer now than ever before. “No, it wouldn’t bother me.”

They exchange a look and I suspect that they don’t believe me. It doesn’t matter though. They don’t need to believe me. I believe in Sebastian and that’s enough.

My phone buzzes on the table and Gavin picks it up to check the notification.

“It’s Instagram. You have new comments.” He tosses the phone at me and I drop it onto the couch like it’s a hot potato.

Now there’s a problem. How do I be the Chris Preacher Sebastian needs me to be without becoming the Chris Preacher that I hate? I need to figure out where that line is before I accidentally cross it.

“You’re not going to check it?” Gavin asks as he stands and stretches.

I glare at my phone and groan. “Maybe later.”

Donnie’s glaring at my phone too and after Gavin steps out, he comes over and gives me a clap on the shoulder. “I have to admit that I don’t really understand this relationship of yours, but if it makes you happy…”

I pat his hand. “It makes me happy.”

He nods solemnly and sighs. “In that case, I’m happy for you too.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

SEBASTIAN

“So… about the footage from Chicago…” I’m sitting on a barstool beside the breakfast bar in Christian’s apartment.

He’s standing on the opposite side, next to the stove, stirring a pot of pasta. He holds the wooden spoon in midair. “Yeah?”

“Um, I took a quick look through it…” A very quick look. Like, basically, scrolling the progress bar as fast as I could. I didn’t even want to do that. In fact, there’s a part of me that wants to delete the whole thing altogether.

“And?”

“And it’s… well…” How can I possibly describe what little I saw? The framing was good, and the lighting looked good. Everything was in focus as far as I could tell. There was nothing wrong with the production value—it was the acting.

Or lack thereof.

The whole thing was so freaking raw. All of our feelings laid right out there for everyone to see. It’s written all over both of our faces. Some people might try to call it acting, but let’s be honest—we’re not that good.

I’ve never put that much of myself out there before. Everything that gets posted for public consumption is carefully curated. It’s me, but it’s a very specific version of me. All the other stuff, all the ugly and inconvenient and uncomfortable stuff gets neatly hidden away. If we publish this video, it’ll change all that.

Christian turns off the stove and pours the pasta through a colander. “Is there something wrong with it?”

“No, but…”

There was one thing I saw when reviewing the footage that made me ecstatic. It was the way Christian looked at me. Especially the last few minutes in the shower when we rushed at each other, smashing our mouths together. That had been entirely unscripted, completely impromptu, and it revealed so much that I actually watched it a couple times before moving on. Even now, thinking back on it, I’m getting swept away by the emotion that was so obvious between us. I know he loves me. And I want to tell him that I know.

“I love you.”

Christian’s in the middle of pouring a jar of tomato sauce into a small sauce pan and when his head jerks up, the tomato sauce goes flying. “Shit!”

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