Page 86 of The Casting Couch

Bradley propped himself up on one elbow, clearly still in the thick of a sleep fog.He dialed, and Liam picked up on the first ring.

“Good morning,” Bradley mumbled, voice gravelly with sleep.

There was a beat.Then I heard Liam’s voice, amused: “Morning?It’s two in the afternoon, sweetheart.”

Bradley jerked upright like someone had slapped him with a calendar.“Wait—what?”

I laughed softly as he shot me a look like I’d betrayed him by not waking him sooner.But honestly?He’d needed the rest.Desperately.And if giving him a few more hours of peace made me the bad guy, then call me Satan in sweatpants.

From the phone, I could hear Liam again.His tone had shifted—lighter, but curious.“We kinda figured something was going on.You and Nico ghosted us after yesterday.Jack wants both of you at the studio to talk through a new couple’s series.Interested?”

Bradley rubbed his face.“Yeah, fine.We’ll be there in a little while.”

He hung up, dropped the phone to the mattress, and flopped back onto the pillow with a groan.

“They know,” he muttered.

I raised an eyebrow.“Know what?”

“That we’re… whatever this is.”

I smirked.“Is ‘whatever this is’ the technical term now?”

He turned his head to look at me, face still soft from sleep.“Apparently.”

I leaned over and kissed him.

He blinked, startled, then whispered, “I have horrific morning breath.”

“I don’t give a damn,” I said, and kissed him again, slower this time.

He didn’t pull away.

Bradley was always careful with touch.Wary.Like he expected people to recoil the second they got close enough to see the cracks.But this morning—afternoon, whatever—he didn’t flinch.He leaned into it.Into me.And I didn’t know what to do with that except hold it like something fragile and precious and entirely undeserved.

We lay there for a while, face to face, the air thick with quiet.No awkwardness.Just… stillness.

Then Bradley whispered, “You don’t really want to do porn.”

I didn’t even try to deny it.

“You want to make people laugh,” he continued.“Entertain them.”

I exhaled slowly.“Yeah.You’re right.But if porn keeps me afloat, I can live with it.”I reached out and brushed my fingers through his hair, tucking it behind his ear.

“What about you?”I asked.“What do you want?”

Bradley hesitated.

The way his face tightened, just a little.The way his lips pressed into a line.

“To survive,” he said at last, barely above a whisper.“That’s my sole goal now.Nothing else matters.”

I felt those words like a bruise under my ribs.

God, he meant it.

Not to thrive.Not to dream.Just to make it through.

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