Page 20 of Sebastian

Right. Yes. I’m not totally off-base. “Yeah, that’s exactly it.”

Noel levels a look at Hayden. “Don’t you get him started.”

Hayden holds up his hands, palms out. “I’m just saying. It’s not like there’s a shortage of guys who want to work with Sebastian, so obviously not everyone thinks it’s too much paperwork.”

“Do you know who I put down as my emergency contact when we did our video?” Noel asks me.

“Who?”

“You.”

I roll my eyes. I knew I should have reviewed his paperwork more closely. I won’t make that mistake again.

“So when do you think you’ll hear back?” Rhys asks.

“He didn’t say. Just ‘soon’.” Which could mean… anything really. A couple days? A couple weeks? Never? Ugh, that would be humiliating, getting ghosted by my celebrity crush, not even warranting a polite decline, him just straight up disappearing on me. I’d never be able to go back to Mars again. I couldn’t risk running into him and having to figure out how to act all cool.

I mean, there’s always the possibility that Christian will come back with an “it’s flattering, but…” But he seemed so on board by the end of dinner, like his questions would be about minor details in the contracts, not like he was still on the fence about the whole thing.

More than that, I thought we’d connected. We had chemistry, we shared stuff about ourselves. Those moments when he seemed haunted by something? That was real vulnerability he was showing me. He wouldn’t do that if he wasn’t planning on going through with the collaboration, right?

“I’m sure he’ll respond soon.” Hayden gives me an encouraging smile.

I try to return it, but I don’t really succeed.

“And if he says no,” Noel shrugs dismissively, “then it’s his loss.”

That drags a real smile out of me. For all his attitude and abrasiveness, Noel is surprisingly supportive when I least expect it.

“Thanks, guys. You’re the best.” I just hope I don’t have to come back to brunch in a couple weeks with my tail between my legs.

Later that day, Christian’s email comes through. I open up every attachment and review every page. He’s filled out all the documents, signed on all the lines, and with each file that I save onto my computer, my heart beats a little faster. This is happening. He’s agreed to it. We’re going to shoot a video together.

I save the last file and sit back, staring at the screen, letting the reality of my situation sink in. Then I carefully set my laptop aside, rise to my feet, and freak out a little. There might be some jumping up and down, some screaming into a pillow, some throwing punches into the air. My cheeks hurt with how wide I’m grinning and I feel like I’m going to burst out of my own skin. My apartment isn’t large enough to contain me. I need to get out and… I don’t know, go running through the streets, shouting at the top of my lungs or something.

I’m going to be working with Chris fucking Preacher!

I’ve daydreamed about this more times than I can count, but I never truly believed it was possible. Me? Some random camboy filming videos out of his bedroom? Working with someone who’s had credits with the largest studios in the industry, who’s appeared on countless magazine covers, who’s won dozens of awards? He’s reduced fans into blubbering messes with nothing more than a smoldering look. He’s had people climbing over each other just to see his face, touch his hand, take a picture with him. He’s had other performers line up for a chance to get fucked by him.

And now he’s going to fuck me. Holy shit.

I sit down heavily on the edge of my bed. He’s going to be here, in my tiny little apartment, and we’re going to strip down, turn the cameras on, and have sex. Holy. Fucking. Shit.

CHAPTER TEN

CHRISTIAN

I’m standing on the street outside Sebastian’s apartment, waiting for another few minutes to tick by before calling him on the intercom. I’m early and sometimes being too early is just as annoying and inconvenient as being late.

My hands are balled into fists in my pockets and my heart rate is way above resting. Every little sound—every car horn and dog bark and faint strains of music—is blaring in my ears.

I really hope I’m not shooting myself in the foot by agreeing to do this thing with Sebastian. My life is good now. I have a great job. I have great friends. I can’t think of a single thing that annoys me enough to do something about it. So why am I trying to mess with what works? Why am I going back to a life I literally ran away from ten years ago? What am I trying to prove?

That I’m not a failure.

I jolt as those words rip through me. It’s something I try not to dwell on too often or for too long. Stepping away from porn when I did was not a sign of weakness, it was a sign of strength, I remind myself. I didn’t “run away” from anything, I chose a better way of life. More balanced. More sustainable. Healthier. Or so I keep telling myself. And yet…

I haven’t felt this animated in ages. Like the air is charged and I keep sparking whenever I run into a stray molecule. Even Donnie looked at me weirdly yesterday and asked if I was seeing someone new.

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