Fake Friends - Saxon James Page 0,51

Preston drags Rowan into his office to sort out the paperwork. I try to get out of it, but Rowan’s grip on my hand is tight and he pulls me through with him.

I almost go cross-eyed listening to it all again. Rowan asks more questions than I ever did, and I swear it takes a lifetime for them to move on from the EM contract to the Gucci one.

“There’s a mistake here,” Rowan says. “It says the job is worth two hundred thousand, total.”

Uh-oh.

Preston quickly checks his copy. “Nope, that’s correct.”

Rowan glances at me. “Didn’t you say it was two hundred each?”

“Umm …” I pretend like I’m trying to remember. But seriously, who looks at a contract in that much detail? “No, I’m sure I said all up …”

“You didn’t.” Something seems to dawn on him. “Preston, how much was that swimwear gig worth?”

Preston can clearly tell he’s being put on the spot. “Ah, it was …”

I let out a massive sigh. “It was fifty K. All up.”

“What the—”

“I don’t need the money!”

“And I don’t want charity.”

“It’s not charity, you worked for it. And at that time, I thought you were leaving.”

“Is this a fight?” Preston asks.

“No.”

Rowan stares at me. “Yes. This is a fight, Circus. You lied.”

“Because I knew you wouldn’t take it. For fuck’s sake, I have more money than I know what to do with, and you know what? When you get that money because your parents died, you start to become really bitter about it. That fifty is yours. The next two hundred, also fucking yours. Don’t argue with me on it. I’m not doing this for the money, I’m doing it for the reach and the followers and the opportunities.” I fold my arms and turn away from him, not wanting him to see my face.

Yeah, I lied. So what?

The thing is, I hate money. I know I’m in the position where I can hate it, and I get others aren’t so lucky. But it makes me feel sick that every time I look at my bank balance, I’m reminded that it’s because of my parents’ money that I now have so much.

But fighting with Rowan … my stomach clenches. Because I’m suddenly realizing that I can’t lose him too.

I hear the scratch of a pen as he signs, and then my chair is being dragged backward. Rowan tilts it back so he’s looking down at me.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Are you?”

“I will be.” He leans down and kisses my forehead.

Relief sweeps over me.

“Should we do this thing, then get out of here?” he asks.

The chair legs hit the floor, and I get up to bury my face in his chest. He hugs me close, and the anxiety finally loosens.

But the realization hangs on tight.

There are very few people in my life who I actually consider close. People who would do anything for me. Leon is top of that list, followed by Jules and Royce. The other guys are my friends, and they’re great, but if I suddenly disappeared, would they really care that much?

With Rowan it’s different.

It’s not about how much he cares about me, it’s about how much I care about him.

Because while I’m sure Leon would do anything for me, I’m not so sure Rowan would. Coming out, leaving his family, introducing me to them as his, I can’t see that ever happening.

But I need him anyway.

The shoot is easier than anything we’ve done yet. Preston organizes Rowan’s portfolio shots first, and then I join him.

Since we’re in April, he’s got a queer brand lined up with a whole lot of Pride month merch.

“The whole point of these clothes is you’re out and you’re proud. I want love, guys. We need these to say that people who wear these clothes will find their forever person.”

I look up at the exact moment Rowan looks at me.

His stare is intense, and when he reaches a hand out for me, he doesn’t drop eye contact. “My forever person, hey?”

“I mean, I’m a real catch. Mommy and Daddy issues. Total package.”

“I see your issues and raise you family drama.” He pulls me into his arms and moves his mouth closer to my ear. “Cock. Balls.”

I snort out a laugh. “What are you doing?”

“Whispering sweet nothings into your ear.”

“That’s your version of ‘sweet’?”

“Big ol’ hairy nuts.”

I can’t wipe the smile off my face. “You done now?”

“Butthole.” He kisses my ear. “Now I am.”

We change up the poses, alternating between pretend candid shots and ones that are more staged. And