Page 9 of Declan
Chapter 3
Kyler
My hands shook as I pulled my shirt over my head and flattened my palms against it to smooth it out. I had to be on set in an hour, and my nerves were shot.
“Does this look okay?” I asked.
“Kye, you look fine. The last ten shirts you tried on looked good, too.” Brysen sighed and thumped his head against the wall. I couldn’t blame him for being frustrated. It wasn’t even seven a.m. yet, so he was cranky.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, studying myself in the mirror and fighting the urge to change again.
Yeah, I was overdoing it big time. The email I’d received had given me instructions on what to wear and bring to my call time. They’d told me to wear a casual shirt and jeans. Simple enough. But the vagueness had me second-guessing my decisions. Blue shirt or red one? Or should I wear a button-up instead?
“I just wanna look good, ya know?”
“Look good for Declan Price, huh?” Brysen flopped onto his stomach on the bed, put his hands beneath his chin, and frowned at me. “To say I’m jealous is an understatement. I need to knowallthe deets, got it? What does he smell like? Is he as hot in person? If you had to guess how big his dick is, what would you say? All of it.”
“If I don’t pass out right when I meet him, I’ll let you know.” I turned to look at my friend. His blond hair was wild, just like his personality. “And how in the hell am I supposed to guess his dick size?”
Brysen grinned. “Easy. Pretend to lose your balance and brush your ass against him. ‘Oh, sorry, Mr. Price. Looks like your thick dick caught my fall.’ Something like that. You’re a writer. You’ll figure it out.”
Closing my eyes, I puffed out a breath. He wasn’t helping my anxiety. At all.
Since our apartment was in the middle of town, I normally rode my bike everywhere or walked. I loved the outdoors and riding my bike helped me get in a workout, but there was no way in hell I was going to risk looking like a sweat-drenched rat that day, so I asked Brysen to drive me.
I didn’t have a car, but he gave me a lift when I needed one.
The film crew had a section of Main Street blocked off, and people crowded around the barrier with their phones in hand and excitement on their faces as they tried to get a look at the stars. Police cars were positioned around the tape, and officers stood around it, making sure no one broke through.
“Jesus, this place is crazy,” Brysen said as he hunted for a place to park. His hazel eyes were hidden behind his sunglasses, and his blond hair waved around his head in a way that made me want to ruffle it. “Looks like we’re parking way out here in BFE.”
“Great,” I mumbled.
We finally found a spot near the library to park and got out of the car. The directions I’d been given had said to go to the east entrance where a member of the crew was waiting. They were called anextras wrangler.Which made me feel like a wild animal or something.
Brysen yawned as we walked across the grass and toward the sidewalk. He looked dead on his feet.
He worked at a bar, and his hours were all screwed up. He usually slept most of the morning and didn’t wake up until noon or later, but he’d woken early that day to take me to the set. Because he knew how much it meant to me. I felt bad, though, because he had a problem sleeping. It was like his brain wouldn’t shut off. He’d finally fallen asleep, and I’d had to wake him.
“Thanks for coming with me,” I said, nudging his arm.
“No problem,” he responded with a smile. “You can buy me a coffee as payment.”
“Deal. I’ll even throw in a blueberry scone.”
“Yeah, you better.”
I fished out money from my wallet and handed it over.
“Thanks, babe.” He pocketed it and looked both ways before running across the street.
I followed after him, and once we were on the other side, we approached the crowd.
Main Street was one of my favorite places in town. There were fancy shops, diners, antique stores, coffeehouses, and scenic overlooks where you could sit and enjoy a meal outside. There was also the King Opera House that was built in 1880. The Victorian-era architecture used to freak me out when I was a kid, but I saw the beauty of it now. All types of productions had taken place in the old opera house, fromA Christmas CaroltoThe Sound of Music.
It was a beautiful, sunny day, and the expected high was only supposed to be seventy degrees.
I found myself breathing heavier the closer we got to the taped-off entrance. Not from the heat, but because I had stage fright. I was the sort of guy who could jump off cliffs into the lake, go hang-gliding, do extreme water sports, and do all kinds of shit that’d land my ass in the hospital—or dead—if something went wrong…but performing in front of people was the one thing that jumbled my nerves.
