Fake Friends - Saxon James Page 0,1

away in my subconscious as I tap the Delete icon, and the failure of a post disappears from memory.

I’ll do better tomorrow.

But even as I think that, I know I need more. All the other influencers that started around the same time as me have coupled up, and it’s sent their popularity through the roof. I’m sure that’s what Royal Swimwear is hoping will happen with me, which is why they set the stipulation of having two models in these shots.

I can’t say I hate the idea.

It’d be nice to have a friend I could share that side of my life with, but that would also come with admitting that I take pretty pictures for a living when they’re all out there working real jobs. And I need their respect like I need air. Like I need my followers. Like I need to pretend that just for one person, I’m the most important guy in their world.

The way I used to be for my parents.

And nope, not going there.

There’s only one day a year I let myself be a total train wreck over them, and that day is coming up soon enough.

“Hey.” I knock on the bar top to get Reynolds’s attention. “I’ll take those drinks over now.” Because torn between Leon’s questioning over Rowan or thinking about my dead parents, I know which topic I’d rather cover.

Only once I dump the drinks on the table and head back for the bar, I’m suddenly rethinking that choice. Because Rowan Harvey is standing there, clearly waiting for me.

He’s leaning his elbows back on the counter, tattooed fingers linked over his stomach and blue eyes watching me steadily.

My heart does the familiar squeeze it’s so well practiced at, and any other night, I might have been able to ignore his presence, but tonight, I’m already too raw.

So I turn on my heel and flee.

I’m out the doors and into the cool spring air before I’m pretty sure anyone has noticed I’ve left. My bike is propped up against the brick wall of the building, exactly where I left it because in a town like Sunbury, no one is going to steal your shit.

I stagger as I throw a leg over, and then it takes two attempts before my foot finds the pedal. Huh. So apparently I’m a tad drunk.

I start to laugh as I push the bike forward and struggle to hold the handlebars straight.

“You didn’t have to run out on my account.”

My head jerks up.

If hearing his name is enough to make my back tense, hearing his voice is enough to put every muscle in my body on guard.

“I haven’t seen you around,” he continues.

“No shit? Well, I’m sure that was really painful for you.” Not as painful as, say, seeing the man who betrayed you five years ago and ran off before you could get the taste of his cum out of your mouth.

“Circus, come on, I just want to talk.”

“Sorry, I don’t do that anymore.”

“Talk?”

“Give you my time.” I push off and finally get my bike moving in the forward direction, but when Rowan falls into step beside me, I realize I’m possibly going slower on this thing than if I were walking.

“Can you just hear me out?”

“Hard no.” My bike gives a solid wobble, but I correct it in time.

“Is it safe for you to be riding that thing right now?”

“Is it safe for me to be alone with you right now?”

“Circus, I—”

I ring my bell, obnoxiously loud in the quiet street, and cut off his words.

“Circus—”

I ring it again.

Then before I even see him move, Rowan steps into the street, and his hand closes over mine.

I jolt back like I’ve been shocked, and in all fairness, I think that’s what happened. I am in shock. Shock over his closeness, his warmth, his presence.

And oh hell fucking no, motherfucker. My dick has apparently gone batshit crazy because it starts to perk up.

Doesn’t it remember the last time it got all excited over him?

I stumble as I climb off my bike, and Rowan’s left standing there holding it.

“All I want is for you to accept my apology,” he begs. “Then I’ll be gone again. I swear it.”

“Aww.” I cock my head in fake sympathy. “I guess you’ll be here a while, then.”

I make the mistake of meeting his eyes, and all those years we spent together hurl back through my memories. He steps forward. There’s barely room for my bike between us. This close, it’s easy to see all