Chapter 31

Chapter Thirty-One

Liam

I woke up to the warm, solid weight of Jack pressed against me. His arm was slung over my waist, and his chest rose and fell steadily against my back. I blinked a few times, trying to orient myself. Bradley’s old room came into focus. Sunlight seeped in through the blinds, painting the walls with pale streaks. Jack’s slow, even breaths tickled the back of my neck, and I couldn’t help but smile.

His phone buzzed on the nightstand, the screen lighting up to show the time: 6:59 a.m. The alarm was set to go off any second. I shifted slightly, careful not to wake him, and snuggled closer, letting myself indulge in the moment.

This felt…right.

I could get used to this—waking up with Jack every morning, feeling his warmth against me, the quiet intimacy of just being together like this. But as much as I wanted to stay in this bubble, another thought crept in, unwelcome but insistent: I was falling for him. Not just as a friend, not just as a partner in this strange, complicated venture we’d stumbled into. I wanted more, and it terrified me.

Jack made his stance clear from the very beginning. “We’re friends, Liam. Nothing more. This is only for the videos. Romantic relationships almost always end in disaster.”

Those might not be his exact words, but I’d accepted the rules he’d set for us. And maybe he was right. But as I lay there with his arm around me, I couldn’t help but rebel against that argument. Why couldn’t we be more?

For God’s sake, we did everything together now. We lived together. We had sex—even if it was supposed to only be for the camera. Plus, we knew everything about each other. Hell, we even farted in front of each other, and it never changed how we treated one another, except for the occasional stupid fart joke. If that wasn’t a relationship, then what was?

The alarm went off, shattering the quiet. A loud, insistent beeping filled the room, and I resisted the urge to grab Jack’s phone and chuck it against the wall. Jack stirred behind me, his body tensing as he woke. For a moment, he didn’t move, and I thought maybe he’d relax back into my arms. Instead, he stiffened, then pulled away entirely.

Without a word, he got out of bed and left the room. Just like that, the warmth was gone, replaced by a cold emptiness that settled deep in my stomach.

I stared at the door he’d walked through, my chest tightening. Why couldn’t he at least say good morning? I had his cock in my mouth last night, for God’s sake. And now, he was acting like the sex was just business. Like it meant nothing.

The thought made my stomach churn. I wanted to go after him, to demand an explanation, to make him say something—anything—that would make this feeling go away. But I knew better. I’d never say the right thing, and in all likelihood, I’d only make things worse.

So I stayed where I was, staring at the empty doorway, the faint smell of Jack lingering on the pillow beside me.

I sat in the kitchen with a cup of coffee and a bowl of Cap’n Crunch in front of me. The sugary cereal was already soggy, but I didn’t care. My laptop sat open on the table, the screen full of endless messages from the pervs on FantasyFans. I scrolled through them, the sheer volume of unread notifications making my head spin.

“What the hell am I supposed to do with these messages?” I muttered to myself.

Most of them were just…ridiculous. Guys, and more than a few girls, asking for dirty talk, sending me explicit fantasies they wanted me to “read and enjoy.” I’d tried keeping up at first, but it was impossible. There were just too many of them, and frankly, most of the messages made me cringe.

Desperate for advice, I navigated to Reddit and pulled up the FantasyFans subreddit. It didn’t take long to find a thread from someone dealing with the same issue. I clicked on the post, which was written by a user with the handle @BigDipper69, and started reading:

Title: “How I Outsourced Dirty Talk and Made Bank”

Okay, real talk—I was drowning in messages from subscribers. It was insane. At first, I tried keeping up. I answered every DM, played along with the dirty talk, all that jazz. But it never ended. These guys don’t just want one response. They want a whole damn novella of filth. And if you ignore them? They unsubscribe.

So there I was, ready to quit, when I got an idea: What if I didn’t have to answer these messages myself? So I hired a part-timer. Told them to act like me and keep the subscribers happy. And guess what? It worked. Not only did my sub count go up, but people started tipping more because they felt ‘engaged’ or whatever.

It’s not as sketchy as it sounds, either. I made sure they stuck to my voice, kept it fun and flirty, and didn’t promise anything crazy. Best business decision I’ve ever made.

So if you’re drowning in DMs, outsource that shit. Your sanity will thank you, and your wallet will, too.

I stared at the post for a long moment, then shut my laptop with a frown. “Where the hell am I going to find someone to talk dirty for me online?”

A perk of working from home was having the gym in the building almost all to myself during the day. The equipment was mostly clean, the air conditioning worked like a charm, and best of all, I didn’t have to pay for a membership. It was the perfect escape from my spiraling thoughts about Jack.

After throwing on a pair of basketball shorts and a tank top, I grabbed my phone, plugged in my earbuds, and made my way downstairs. Sure enough, when I got there, the place was empty.

Perfect.

I hopped on a treadmill, setting the speed to an easy jog. I needed to clear my head, and running always helped. With my favorite playlist blasting in my ears, I let my legs move on autopilot. I was starting to lose myself in the rhythm when a flash of bright pink caught my eye.

Nessa.

How had she snuck into the gym without me noticing? But there she was, strutting toward the treadmill next to mine like she owned the place. Her workout outfit was…something else.

She wore neon-pink leggings with a cropped T-shirt that read “Sassy and Classy” in glittering rhinestones, and a headband that was, inexplicably, covered in sequins. To top it all off, she ‘d bedazzled her sneakers.

I tried ignoring her, keeping my eyes glued to the wall in front of me. But, of course, Nessa wasn’t about to let me get away with that.

She stepped onto the treadmill next to mine, cranked the incline up to max, and started walking as if she were climbing Everest. Then she leaned over and tapped me on the shoulder.

Reluctantly, I pulled out one of my earbuds. “What’s up, Nessa?”

“Hey, sweetie!” she chirped, her Queen’s accent in full force. “You’re lookin’ good, but you’re still way too young for me. Oh yeah, you’ve got that thing going with Jack. Or do you?”

“Well, we um, just make videos.” My cheeks felt like hot lava. “Jack and I are only friends.” Damn it.

“But you wish it was more, don’t ya?”

Shit. Was it that obvious to everyone?

“Oh honey, you don’t have to answer that because it’s written all over your face. Well, I know lots of available guys who’d totally be into you.” Nessa reached over and pinched my ass. “Though I think you and Jack make the perfect couple.”

“Ouch!” I stopped jogging for a second and wondered what I’d done to deserve Nessa’s special attention. “Thanks, but I’m not exactly looking right now.”

“Why not? You’re adorable! If I were a few years younger and less into men with beards, you’d be in trouble.”

I shook my head, smirking. “Nessa, I’m gay. You know that, right?”

“Of course I know, honey! But you can’t blame a girl for flirting a little. Keeps me young.”

I rolled my eyes, but I was still smiling. Then, as if the flirting wasn’t embarrassing enough, Nessa squinted at my face and leaned in. “Hmm. Nope. Absolutely not.”

“What?” I asked, already dreading her answer.

“Those caterpillars on your forehead! Sweetie, no self-respecting gay man walks around with eyebrows like that. I mean, come on. You’re too cute to hide behind all that hair!”

I blinked, stunned. “What’s wrong with my eyebrows?”

“Nothing a good wax wouldn’t fix. And while we’re at it…” She leaned in closer, and I took a cautious step back. “I’ve seen your videos, Liam.”

My stomach dropped. I knew this already, but my skin crawled at the thought of her seeing me, well, doing what I do on film. “Pardon me?”

She waved a hand dismissively. “Relax, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before. But listen, you could do with a little manscaping. Trust me, it’s a game-changer.”

My face was on fire. “I—I don’t know what to say to that.”

“You don’t have to say anything, sweetie. Just trust me.” She reached over and grabbed my arm, her grip surprisingly strong.

I yelped and nearly flew off the treadmill, barely managing to steady myself. “Nessa!”

“It’s my day off,” she said matter-of-factly. “And my best friend, Moira, just started a new job as a receptionist at a salon in Queens. Let’s get a makeover together!”

I gaped at her, completely thrown. “A makeover?”

“Yes, a makeover. It’ll be fun! You’ll get waxed, we’ll do your eyebrows, maybe even a little facial. It’s called The Mane Attraction—cute, right? They specialize in ‘fierce transformations,’ and honey, you’re about to be fierce.”

I groaned, already regretting every life decision that had led to this moment. “I don’t think—”

“Don’t think. Just say yes.”

Before I could protest further, Nessa hopped off her treadmill and pointed to the door. “Come on, Liam. Let’s get beautiful together!”