Fake Friends - Saxon James Page 0,15

them. It’s going to take some editing to make cropping him out of them look any good. But it’s not like I can say no.

“Give me an hour.”

“Good stuff, Circus. And whoever that guy is, good pick.”

“Thanks.”

We hang up and I stare at my phone, wondering if this is what whiplash feels like.

Not that I have long to ponder that because, with only fifty-nine minutes to go, I have my work cut out for me.

Most of the shots in the studio have Rowan’s face artfully hidden, but they’ll be the ones the brand wants to use. They’re more professional and polished. The ones by the creek are mostly for me. I try to have my page looking as unstaged as possible, which means playing with these shots until we look like we’re just out having spontaneous fun.

From one photo to the next, it really is starting to bug me how good Rowan is at this. And how annoyed I am that we have to hide his face. Because that smile … it used to be the rarest thing about him and never failed to make my knees weak.

Nope.

Next.

I eventually find a shot with Rowan’s back to the camera. It must have been one of the earlier ones we took. But his ass is showcasing those trunks, and the way he’s dragging his hand back through his hair has his back muscles on point.

My forehead’s resting on his relaxed shoulder as I look down into the water, and while this shot isn’t the fun, vibrant look I was going for, there’s something else here.

Something more intimate.

It reminds me of a quiet moment during stolen time and sums up exactly how our relationship used to be.

Plus, the swimwear looks great.

Which is obviously the most important thing here.

I do some light editing to make sure everything looks sharp, then increase the green light being diffused by the trees. It looks ethereal and cool. I almost don’t want to share it.

But I do, because this is work.

I write the caption, Outdoors with him.

People can make whatever they want of that. I add a quick line about the brand and then upload it.

The picture has barely been live for a second when it starts.

And while I love the interaction and the flood of attention and all my happy chemicals are buzzing, it’s all a bit much right now.

Because it comes with a tinge of sadness.

They don’t love me. They love me and Rowan, and that’s not a concept that exists. It’s not even one I can milk for attention because as soon as this payment clears, he’ll be out of my life for good.

***

“Circus fucking Atkins!”

Oops. The loud voice booming from my front hall makes me scramble to duck down behind my couch and hope Leon gets bored and goes home.

No such luck.

“I know you’re here! Your bike and car are both out front.”

He doesn’t know I didn’t go for a hike.

“I’m not leaving until you come out.”

Urg. Persistent bastard.

I poke my head out from behind the couch and find him already looking at me. I grin. “Knew I was there, huh?”

“The whole time.”

I clear my throat and sit back on the couch, trying to act natural. “So, what brings you here?”

“Cut the shit, Circus. Tell me that wasn’t Rowan Harvey in that photo.”

“Photo …” I tap my chin.

He pins me with a look.

“Naw, you’re not as scary as you think you are.”

He sighs and drops onto the couch beside me. “I’m worried.”

“It was just a few photos. I needed this job, and he needed the money. It was a win-win.”

“Why did you need the job?”

“Because I have to expand my reach.”

“But why? You already have a ton of followers and get sent a heap of shit, and it’s not like you need the money.”

“You’re theorizing, aren’t you?”

“Might be.”

I laugh. “Okay, and what are you reading into this situation?”

He slants a quick look my way then crosses his arms. “I’m worried you’re doing this as an excuse to spend time with him.”

“One whole day where we hardly spoke. Total master plan.”

“Be serious. Tell me you’re completely over him and I’ll let it drop.”

“I’m so over him that the deal for these photos is that he leaves Sunbury again. Happy?”

Leon’s eyebrows shoot up. “Wasn’t expecting that.”

“See? I’m capable of making actual life decisions.”

“Jury’s still out on that.”

“You’ll see.” I throw a cushion at him. “Wanna stay for dinner?”

“Sorry, man, can’t. I’ve got a date.” He widens his eyes like this is a totally new concept, but