Page 97 of Sweet Shots

I take his hand again, hoping it gives him some sort of calmness. I’m not sure that’s the energy I’m exuding, but I’m trying. I’m also trying like hell to keep it together and get out of my head.

Dominic’s video is the first to be shown, and as much as I don’t want to look at it, I can’t pull my eyes away.

There he is, up on the big screen, sitting on hiscouchwhile some twink rides his dick. He jerks him off, lust-filled eyes staring at the guy on his lap. I grit my teeth, sucking in a slow breath as my heart threatens to lunge from my chest.

It’s just his job. It’s just work. It’s his past. He isn’t doing this anymore.

But now that he has a taste of what it’s doing for his career…

He’s going to change his mind and tell me he’s going back to it. That he needs to do it. That he has to fuck other guys on that stupid couch in order to keep up his persona. Dominic Blake can’t have a boyfriend…

Shut up, shut up, shut up.

I take calming breaths and finish my drink. When the waiter walks by, I ask for another.

The rest of the videos play, but I can’t get the image of Dominic and that guy out of my head. And it’s so stupid because I’ve seen so many of these videos before. I watchedso manyof them, but he didn’t mean anything to me at the time. In fact, I hated him. It was easy then. Now, it infuriates me.

I hardly hear it when Sky calls out Dominic’s name… along with someone named Trent Ballz, who is obviously the guy in the video. What a stupid fucking name.

My face wants to frown, but I force it to stop. The last thing I need is someone snapping a photo of me being pissed over this. Never mind ruining his night, it’ll ruin my career. And probably have a shit ton of guys flocking Dominic’s way with promises tobe a better boyfriend. I make myself smile. I clap, I’m happy, I do everything I can to make it seem like I’m thrilled about this.

And I am. My boyfriend just won asecondaward. But he’s walking up there with another man. A man who is definitely his type, because he’s like all the other guys in his videos. A guy who isn’t like me. One who looks pretty damn good in a pink suit, not something many people could pull off. A man who is now holding hands with my boyfriend, pulling them up high and grinning. Grinning because of Dominic, who fucked the hell out of him, causing them to win this award. Dominic, who is my boyfriend.

They each have an award in their hand now and look at them up there together. They look so good. They each say a few words, and though I don’t hear any of them because the blood is rushing in my ears, I certainly see it when Trent grabs Dominic by the cheeks and kisses him on the lips.

On the fucking lips.

Dominic laughs.

He fucking laughs.

He laughs and then shakes his award in the air and everyone around me is clapping and cheering and celebrating, and here I am, turning to fucking ice.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Dominic

“You are so drunk, baby,” I say, holding on to Mikah’s hand.

“I really am,” he says, leaning against the wall and laughing.

It’s four in the morning. We’ve been partying all night, celebrating our victories. So many of us went out to different bars and clubs to get wrecked, and here we are, trashed to the max. How do you not celebrate after such an amazing thing? I won two fucking awards tonight! It’s my first year here, and I took home an award for both categories I was nominated for. That’s almost unheard of.

So many people came up to me afterwards, congratulating me and letting me know they aspire to be me one day. They asked if they could reach out with ideas for videos, and noticed how I’d paused my stuff and guessed it was because of Mikah. No one seemed upset by it. They all seemed to understand and were supportive. Mikah didn’t seem offended by their questions, which makes me proud. I appreciate how respectfuleveryone was about it. Not that I needed the validation, but it’s nice to know I made the right decision.

I am fucking flying tonight. Riding on cloud nine, and having Mikah here with me has only made this entire experience that much better. I keep thinking what I’d have done if I weren’t with him. Would I have taken a date? If so, who? Would coming solo have been better? What would celebrating alone have been like? Coming here with someone who meant nothing to me wouldn’t have been the same. Being here with Mikah is the best possible scenario, and I am so happy it worked out this way.

Many people in this world don’t take what we do seriously. They take offense to it and think it’s bullshit that we get paid so much, but it’s not all fun and games. I’ll say this until I’m blue in the face. It’s a lot of work and it isn’t always great. It takes a toll on your body, your mind, your emotions. Everything.

I want to keep doing this, I’m not saying I don’t, but there are going to be some changes. A turning point. A point when I met Mikah, realized how much I enjoy being with one person, and the opportunity to focus on content with just me and him. It’s all coming together perfectly.

Having him by my side, as a support system and a partner, is better than I could have hoped for in someone. It makes me realize how much I miss my mom. I mean, I always miss her. Of course I do. But I got used to being alone. I wasn’t exactly closed off, but I wasn’t quite open either. Now? Opening myself up to someone the way I do to Mikah? It’s freeing. Relieving. I hate that she didn’t get to meet him, and he will never know her.

“Can I take you somewhere when we get back home?” I ask as we step closer to the bathroom. The line is huge, but we have to piss so we don’t have a choice but to wait.

“Is it your bed? Cause I like that place,” he says with a drunk smile, swaying on his feet.

I grin at him. “I’ll take you to bed whenever you want.” I step closer, sliding my hand around his back while I bring my mouth to his neck. He sucks in a sharp breath, his body relaxing. I pull back and say, “But I meant somewhere else.”

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