Page 42 of Ripple Effect

“No, I’m talking about you.”

“Sorry, but I’m a little lost here, Daze.”

“I just think ... if you want to bring someone here to hook up with, then you should come out and ask me for the space directly. I don’t like feeling lied to, feeling deceived, especially not after what happened with Logan.”

“Okay?” I manage to say, brows furrowing as I wrap my mind around the accusation. “I haven’t hooked up with anyone, and I don’t have plans to, especially not while you’re here.”

“Right, sure,” she scoffs, pouring herself a second glass.

“Genuinely not lying to you.”

“I heard you, though,” she confesses, her voice loud in the quiet room. “Today! I heard you in your room with someone, and you told me you needed privacy for work. Why not just be honest?”

Well, there you have it. She’s just pulled the rug out from underneath my feet. The moans, the dirty talk I was doing earlier—it was all part of a live web chat, fake and fabricated, just par for the course.

“Oh... oh,” I mumble, running a hand through my hair. “Fuck. Thatwasfor work.”

“What?” she asks, brows drawing together.

“So, here’s the thing—” A bead of sweat trickles down my forehead, and I wipe it away, working to gather my racing thoughts. “I wasn’t exactly forthcoming when I told you what I do for work, but I didn’tlieto you about why I needed the space.”

“So, then, you were sleeping with someone forwork?”

“Kind of, I guess.”

“So, you’re ... um, sorry, I’m not exactly sure what the best term for it is?”

“You’re asking me if I’m a prostitute?”

“Uh-huh,” she all but squeaks out. “Then again, you said you worked online . . . doing freelance stuff.”

“Yeah, I do, and I’m not actually a prostitute.” I fold my arms across my chest, leaning back against the cabinets. “But I do work in the same field. I post videos, pictures on an online platform. Er, just partner shoots, live cams, stuff like that. I wasn’t necessarily trying to hide it from you. I just didn’t want to get into all the specifics right away.”

She pulls her lip between her teeth, gnawing on it. “Ah ... okay.”

Oh, fucking hell. I don’t know what’s worse—the disbelief etched across her face or the discomfort twisting my insides into a knot. But I hold her gaze, waiting for the fallout of my confession and hoping that when it does come, it’s not the end of whatever friendship we’ve been building here.

“Is that ... does that bother you?” I finally ask, my throat dry. Each word feels like a stone, heavy and hard to swallow.

“Not at all,” she quickly assures me, her fingers tapping on the counter. “I’m just, um, I’m just processing.”

“Processing,” I echo, a hollow laugh escaping me. I scrub a hand over my face, the stubble on my jaw scraping against my palm, keeping me rooted, reminding me of my reality.

I’m a content creator on an adult website—that’s just part of who I am and what I do. And there’s nothing shameful about it. Despite the negative aspects, despite the toll it’s taken on me over the years, it’s still a job just like any other.

“Ah, so the work you mentioned . ..” She trails off, her gaze flitting around the room, anywhere but me. “You put it up on a public site, right?”

“That’s right.”

“And what’s it called?”

“AfterDark.” I stretch an arm across my body, fingers finding the nape of my neck, rubbing out the tension. “It’s a newer sub site, but it’s skyrocketed in popularity over the past couple years.”

“Oh, wow.” Her eyes blow wide. “That’s, yep, that’s a popular one, alright.”

“So, you’ve heard of it, then?”

“Yeah,” she mumbles, cheeks flushing, fingers gripping tightly to the edge of the counter. “Ah, do you have like a stage name there or ...?”

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