“We should probably get dressed,” Ashton said.
I stood behind him in my cramped kitchen, pressing my chest to his back and burying my nose in his hair. Even after getting out of bed hours ago, I’d still managed to put on nothing but a pair of underwear. He was just as bad off in my boxers and an oversized Cadet’s T-shirt, his hair still sex tousled and an honest-to-God hickey on his neck.
He’d gone between his apartment and mine for the past few days, but his paranoia about photogs caused him to stay over every once in a while. Which led to me blowing off the gym, and everything else, to touch him all day.
“She won’t be here for a few minutes,” I said, kissing his ear. “We have time.”
Ashton sighed and kept fiddling with the enormous salad he was making. He was obviously trying to make it look Pinterest-worthy while muttering to himself about me not having any tahini walnut oil. Whatever the hell that was. I couldn’t identify half the things in the salad, although I was positive there was kale.
“Stop cooking and come to the bedroom with me.”
“Val, she’s literally walking up from the train right now. We don’t have time for a quickie.”
I kissed the back of his neck and slid my hands up his shirt. “We could make time. And if you didn’t look so good, I’d be able to resist you.”
Ashton paused in his quest to create the perfect salad presentation and turned his face with a wry smile. “Babes, you resisted me even when I was dressed and styled and looking like a sex kitten. A million times you resisted me.”
“Maybe I like you better when you’re wearing my clothes and looking like you just rolled out of my bed.”
He arched an eyebrow and fully turned to wrap his arms around my neck. “Mmm. Getting territorial, huh?”
“Fuck yeah, I am.” I kissed him, flicking my tongue against his lips. “Especially since I’m still waiting for this to be a dream or something. Every time I wake up, I have to convince myself this is really happening.”
Ashton threaded his fingers through my hair and pulled me into a longer kiss. He moaned when we pulled apart, and nuzzled my face. “What’s ‘this’?”
“You and me. Us.”
“What about us?” he asked, light and teasing as I effortlessly lifted and seated him on the edge of the counter. “You better watch my salad.”
“Screw your kale.”
“It’s not just kale! There’s all kinds of greens, toasted nuts, and—”
I quieted him with another kiss. His legs wrapped around my waist, and I jerked him closer to the edge so our crotches could align. Ashton smiled against my lips, and hummed as I slid my hands into his tangled hair.
“We need to stop,” he murmured.
“I know, but it’s hard.”
Ashton rocked against me, pulling out a low groan. “You’re always hard.”
“My dick is making up for lost time with you. If you just stayed here instead of going home, I wouldn’t be so thirsty.”
Ashton’s smile widened even as he tried to look stern and serious about us stopping grinding on each other to prepare for my sister’s arrival. “I want to, but I’m afraid of photogs hunting me down. Or . . . my brother getting enraged if he realizes we’re over here playing house while he’s deal-less and miserable.”
The words were cold water on the building heat in my gut. I backed away and patted his thigh, watching as he slid to his feet all elegant and sexy before going to check on the coconut-crusted fried chicken concoction. I had no idea where he got these recipes. Or why he was obsessively worrying about dinner as if Hana were someone who might not approve of him.
“Val, do you have—”
A knock on the door froze Ashton in his tracks. His eyes got very big, and he sprinted from the kitchen and into my bedroom. Snickering, I snagged a pair of sweatpants from the couch on the way to the door.
“You got here fast,” I said after opening.
Hana’s hair was wet and her face was ruddy when she pushed past me. “I’m surprised. It’s raining and the trains are running like crap.” She took off her jacket and hung it on the hook by the door. “Where’s Ash?”
I toed the door shut. “Freaking out about having dinner with you.”
Hana paused in the middle of smoothing her sweater. “Why? What’s going on?”
“Nothing. He’s just nervous for some reason.”
A dawning look of realization crossed her face, and her big dark eyes widened. She glanced around again and took a step closer to me. “Are you two . . .”
“Yes.”
I wasn’t sure what I expected from her, but the bow of her brows and pursed lips wasn’t it. She’d been asking if I was gay or bi for years, and she’d always thought Ashton and I had had feelings for each other.
“Valdrin, what about Dylan?”
“Fuck Dylan.”
She put a hand on my shoulder. “I know you love Ashton, and I’m happy you two have figured it out, but Dylan is . . .”
“A bastard? Obsessed with money?”
“He’s going to be angry. And he’ll do something to ruin this for you both.” The sound of a door opening down the hall prompted her to draw away. “You need to figure out how to mend things with him. It’s not healthy for him to be this pissed at you both. And . . . you know how bad this could get.”
She was right. I knew she was right. But the only way to mend things with Dylan was to get him his deal, and that was out of my hands. All I could hope was that the conflicting emotions in his face during our argument had been enough to sway him into leaving things alone.
“I’ll figure it out, Hana.”
The worry didn’t leave her eyes until she stepped around me to greet Ashton. He’d kept my T-shirt on, but had tugged on shredded acid-washed jeans. With his hair tousled and everywhere, he still looked like walking sex. Hana caught the look on my face and smiled.
“Ashton! I haven’t seen you in forever.”
Ashton pulled her into a tight hug, his eyes closed and mouth twisted up into a warm smile as he squeezed. “I know. I’ve missed you.”
“You look gorgeous as always.”
He pushed his hair out of his face, self-conscious and fidgeting. “No way. I look like I just woke up.”
“Which is you still looking gorgeous.” She bumped her hip against his and sniffed the air. “What did you cook?”
“Oh, it’s this really awesome recipe I found online,” he said, brightening. “I’ve never tried it before, so I hope it’s good, but it had great reviews.”
They walked toward the kitchen, her soft and curvy and him narrow and nearly a foot taller, leaning into each other and talking happily. Watching them together as we prepared to eat, like a family, felt right.
It had to last.
We had to last.
Maybe if I said it to myself often enough, we would.
“So how exactly does it work?” Hana pushed her empty plate away and sat back in her chair. She rested a hand on her stomach the way Valdrin always did after a meal. “Clubs pay you to just . . . show up? And you go party and then sneak out?”
“Well, it depends.” I’d picked at my food nervously while watching them eat and now my plate was cold. Instead of eating, I drew my knees up to my chin and toyed with the shreds in my jeans. “The contracts are all different, right? So, like, the Standard, for example, has a contract with me to show up six times this year. I can’t just get a drink and leave, though. I have to stay for at least an hour, get a drink, mingle, and be A-Town.” I rolled my eyes. “So, be visible enough to get my picture taken by the crowd and be tagged on Instagram with my name and the name of the lounge. Then it gets the reputation of being a hot spot.”
Hana nodded, eyes wide and fascinated. “How much do they pay you?”
“Um . . .” A nervous laugh burst out of me. “Well . . .”
Valdrin stood to clear plates. He knew I hated talking money.
“Come on, Ashton. I’m so fascinated by all this. Throw a girl a bone.”
“Well . . . if you’re sure you won’t be disgusted . . .”
Hana snorted. “I bet the number in my head is super inflated.”
That gave me a spark of hope. “The Standard pays me about a hundred grand per appearance.”
“Holy shit,” Valdrin shouted from the kitchen just as Hana said, “Oh, I thought it’d be more.”
This time my laugh was genuine. Relief crested in my chest. I should have known she wouldn’t judge me, but the worry was always there. Other people, pseudo friends who ran in the same circles but who didn’t have the same level of fame, would make passive-aggressive comments while trying to get me to cover the tab. And I never called them out on it. Or, at least, I hadn’t in the past. Now my new squad of QFindr friends had my back. Steph and Mere called people out in a heartbeat.
Which reminded me, I needed to call Meredith . . .
“I get paid more to party in like London or Ibiza and especially Dubai, but there’s more competition here. And I’m not a real celebrity.” I stopped fidgeting and dropped my hand. “Musicians and actors get paid a ton more. Even like . . . B-listers. No one can afford someone like Kim K or whatever, though.”
“She’s not even an actress,” Hana complained.
“I know. She’s a more successful version of me. Basically, my idol.”
We both laughed, and I could practically hear Valdrin shaking his head from the next room.
“It’s a weird business, but it’s how I tried to make money of my own.” I played with my hair because it gave me something to do with my hands. “I made money while modeling, but I couldn’t exist in that industry. It was just . . . not healthy for me. And after the sex-tape thing, when I stopped modeling, I was lost. It wasn’t until a promoter reached out to me and asked if I’d consider coming to this new club in the meatpacking district that I heard of the whole industry of celebrity appearances. My parents thought it was sooo tacky, but it’s sort of fun?”
Hana reached across the table to cover my hand with her own. “You don’t have to have that tone, Ash.”
“What tone?”
“The tone you get when you’re embarrassed or unsure of yourself. Like you’re not supposed to take pride in what you do.”
“Would you take pride in being paid so much money to go out partying or, like, doing skin care product placement on Instagram?”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s a dumb question. If I liked doing it? Hell yes, I’d be proud. Your life sounds amazing to me, but then again I’m not a jealous bitch who wants to be you and can’t. I’m just happy you found something you enjoy.”
“Holy shit, I want to hug you.”
Hana squeezed my hand tighter. “You’ve always been such a sweetheart. I’m so glad to see you healthy and happy.”
“I’m happy to be with Val. And . . . I’m glad you support us.” I glanced toward the kitchen again and lowered my voice. “But, honestly, sometimes I wish there was more to my life.”
“How?”
“Just . . . I think a lot about legacies, you know? What will I be remembered for when I die? What will people say about me when I’m old? And I know that’s really weird, but it’s been beaten into my head by my father that . . . legacies are important. But I don’t have one.” I rested my face against my knees and sighed. “I want to be more than a party boy with nice skin who basks in the glory of his social media following. But I’m not good at anything else.”
Val returned to the room wearing an old gray T-shirt with his sweatpants and somehow, in that simple outfit, he was so handsome and sexy. Everything about him, from the way he brushed the back of my neck as he passed, to the way he hugged his sister before sitting down, swelled my heart further.
Maybe being with Valdrin would improve my outlook on life. Maybe being with him would be enough. When he was too famous for anyone to care about his sexuality, I could show up ringside in furs and look glamorous on pay-per-view fights. Or I could host club shows when he opened his own boxing gym or started coaching . . . Introduce his young fighters to promoters.
“What are you grinning about over there?” Hana asked.
I blinked away the fantasies. “Oh, nothing. Just being silly.”
“Care to share?” Val asked. “I like when you’re silly.”
A flush crept over me. Hana was watching and clearly enjoying Val the Boyfriend, but I was having a hard time keeping my hands off him when he was being so sweet.
“Nope,” I said. “It’s a secret.”
Hana huffed, and Val winked. “I’ll get it out of him later.”
“I’ll make sure you forget.”
“Oh boy,” Hana said. “You two are seriously in the honeymoon stage.”
This time it was Val looking embarrassed. I was saved having to respond by my phone ringing. Meredith’s picture, a glossy-lipped sneer and sunglasses that covered half her face, showed up on the screen.
“Ohh, let me take this,” I said, standing. “I’ve been dodging Mere for days, and she’s going to flip.”
Val waved me off. I slipped out of the room and padded down the hall to flop onto Val’s bed with the phone in my hand.
“’Lo?”
“Where the fuck have you been?”
“Whoa, what’s wrong with you?” I asked, rolling onto my back. “We’ve gone longer without chatting, babes.”
“I know, but, urgh.” Meredith made a growling ragey sound. “There’s just . . . drama.”
“Ohh, anything delicious?”
“No,” she grumped. “I tried to date a boy and remembered that I still hate boys. Besides that, my father is a dick, my brother is a control freak, and I think Charles’s boyfriend is already cheating on him.”
“Oh no.” Sighing, I looked up at the ceiling. “I hate Landon.”
“Same. And the worst part? He’s trying to like . . . edge into our circles because of Charles, all while cheating on Charles. It’s gross, and I want to murder him.”
“Can we?”
“No. We’d probably drop lip gloss at the scene of the crime and they’d trace our DNA.”
I laughed but quickly sobered. “For real, are we telling Charles?”
“Not yet.” She sighed heavily. “Not until I have proof. I’m not going to sit around and let some asshole fuck over my friend. Seriously, sweetie. I am so done with ninety-nine percent of men.”
“Can’t relate. I’m pretty happy with Val at the moment.”
“Yeah, yeah. You and your boxer dreamboat.” Meredith was trying to sound scornful, but I could hear the smile in her voice. “Guess who I’m having dinner with tonight?”
“Umm . . . Tonya Maldonado?”
“As if she remembers that I’m alive,” she scoffed. “No, I’m having dinner with your pain-in-the-ass of a brother.”
I sat up straight so abruptly that my neck snapped. “What? Why?”
“He reached out to me in a fit of desperation,” she said. “Asked if I could talk to you for him, and then complained about Valdrin interfering in his family. I figured I could humor the poor bastard with dinner and convince him to leave you guys alone.”
“A, that’s not going to happen. And B . . . why on Earth would he call you?”
“Uh . . . you could say we go back a ways?”
“What?” Understanding hit me, and I cringed. “Oh. Ew.”
“He was hot before he went full corporate sociopath. And he has a big di—”
“Oh God. No. I’m hanging up.”
Meredith’s laugh exploded in my ear.
“Seriously, I’m about to hang up. That will give me nightmares for the rest of my life.”
“You big baby.” She sighed through her laugh, sounding pleased with herself. “Dinner party at your place this weekend? I think Stephanie has convinced Angel to meet us.”
“Oh, that’s exciting,” I said. “Maybe I can convince Valdrin.”
“That would be dope.”
“It would.” I got to my feet and glanced in the mirror, trying to make my hair look like less of a mess. “Okay, let me go back to Val and Hana. Good luck tonight with Dylan. He’s an unhappy man and tends to drag others down with him.”
“I’ll work on him,” she promised. “And figure out what the deal is with his fixation on you two. Maybe I can use my power over rich fuckboys to get him to talk.”
“If you do, let me know. When he or my parents are angry at me, I spend the entire time being nervous.”
“Not this time, babe. I’m going to do everything in my meager power to protect you.”
I paused in the doorway, my hand tightening around the phone. “Thank you for being my friend, Mere.”
“Of course, darling. Thank you for letting me into your life.”
We hung up, but I remained standing in the shadow of the doorway. There was so much goodness in my life right now and yet . . . I couldn’t help waiting for the other shoe to drop.