Page 9 of Felix

Noel winces, but he doesn’t refute it. “What will you do?” he asks, looking over his shoulder. The club is busy tonight, tables full. A guy named Jonah is shaking his ass inside one of the cages, drumming up tips from the onlookers nearby.

“Honestly? I don’t know,” I admit. “I’ll land somewhere, I’m sure.”

“I, uh…” Noel steps closer, speaking so low I nearly miss him over the music. “I know of somewhere that’s hiring. Remember my cousin Tanner?”

I rack my brain when it clicks. “The one that works at the porn studio? He does set design, right?”

Noel smiles a little sheepishly. “That’s the one. He, uh, said they’re looking for new…talent.”

My eyebrows pop up. “You mean porn stars.”

He groans but pulls out his phone. “I know it’s kind of out there, but look. The pay is ridiculously good, and they even have benefits and health insurance and stuff.”

“Seriously?” I ask as Noel shifts his phone screen my way. I skim the ad, curiosity piqued.

“Open auditions end tomorrow,” he tells me before looking over his shoulder again. Max gives him a hurried wave, and Noel curses, tucking his phone away. “Shit, gotta go. Let me know what you decide?”

“I will. And Noel? Be careful.”

He nods, but I don’t feel all that reassured as I watch my friend weave back through the crowded club. Heaving a sigh, I head out the door and into the vibrant bustle of the city. I didn’t bother changing out of my tiny shorts, so I get a few looks and even a catcall, but I ignore it all, taking the bus home.

My apartment’s heavy wooden door creaks when I push it open. I flick on the lights and drop my keys into the bowl under the switch. My mail sits atop the same table. An overdue bill. A statement from the nursing home.

I head past, stopping at the window inside my bedroom.

A smile curves my lips when I see my neighbor across the alleyway. He’s on his bed, a book out in front of him and a pad of paper beside it. His brown hair is a mess, telling me he’s been studying for a good while, and I have the most perfect view of his ass as he bounces his legs through the air behind him.

Unable to resist, I pull out my phone and fire off a text.

Me: Hey, Specs. Looking cozy.

He glances at his phone, and then his head whips my way. I huff a laugh, grinning, even though I know he can’t make me out behind the blinds. Does he have any idea it was me he bumped into the other day outside the convenience store? I highly doubt it, considering he doesn’t even know what I look like. He’s never asked for details about who I am.

My heart sure had beat fast, though, a combination of surprise and awe at suddenly being face to face with the guy who outright invited me to watch him get off three months ago and who hasn’t closed his curtains once since. His light brown eyes were even wider in person behind those thick-framed glasses of his, and he was right there for the first time, so close I could touch.

But then his phone rang, he turned away, and my chance to say something—anything—was lost.

A ping breaks through my thoughts.

Specs: Hey. You’re home early.

I let out another sigh.

Me: Yeah. I got fired.

He jolts slightly.

Specs: Crap. I’m sorry.

Me: It is what it is. Can I ask you something?

Specs: Of course.

Heading to my dresser, I change out of my shorts and pull on something softer, more comfortable. Then I trade my tight shirt for a loose tee. When I get back to the window, I stop in front of my sewing table, letting my fingers drift over the familiar plastic of my Bernina sewing machine.

She was worth every exorbitant penny.

Taking a seat, I glance at Specs again. I don’t know why it’s always so easy to talk to him. Maybe because I consider him a friend, even if the circumstances that brought us together are admittedly a bit strange.

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