“Hey, fellas,” Peter says, Reggie right beside him. They make quite the intimidating pair, their burly arms crossed in front of them. “Just checkin’ in on you. Everything alright in here?”
“Yes,yes!” Matt pushes Robert further away so the guys can see he’s not bruised or bleeding. “Sorry for makin’ a racket, he was just cheering me up.”
“Yeah, and um, I mean, you look cheerier, so I’m just gonna—” Robert shuffles past the bulky men and waves over their heads when he’s in the hallway. “Good talk!”
“You okay?” Reggie asks, checking Matt over.
“Yeah.” The weird thing is, he actually means it. “Sorry ‘bout that. Is the car okay?”
Matt scrambles out of the small room to see how his car is faring. He can only hope he leaves the terrible swooping in his stomach behind.
“How do you feel?” Robert asks, concern coloring his face.
“Uncomfortable.” That’s putting it mildly.
“Yeah, you’re super tense. Try to relax, loosen up a bit. It’s supposed to be fun.”
Fun. Matt scoffs. “I’ve never been less relaxed in my life.”
As a general rule of thumb, Matt doesn’t do many sponsor shoots—especially not for clothes. He doesn’t photograph well and, honestly, what brand would ever choose him over Robert with his good looks and easy charm?
Unfortunately, they’re in this together.
“This would go so much faster if I wasn’t involved,” Matt mutters.
“Tough shit.” Though they have a professional stylist on set, Robert has taken it upon himself to futz around with Matt’s outfit. Jacket collar up, down, shirt tucked in, out. Nothing helps. “You need to get better at stuff like this so sponsors will want to work with you.”
Matt grumbles, but Robert’s right.
“These nice people want a return on their investment, and the first step is to looklesslike these clothes are literally killing you. No matter how they actually feel.”
“They’re not—” Matt looks down at himself, at where Robert’s nimble fingers roll his cuffs up. “They’re actually really comfortable. I like the jacket.”
“Yes!” Robert says, with relief. “That’s a start. Now, show the camera how much you like it.”
“Oh, uh…” Matt faces the front of the room and gives a thumbs up.
The camera sits alone on a stool. The photographer is several feet away, talking with a brand manager from the clothing company.
Matt thinks Robert might be interrupting them, to tell them they’re ready, but the other driver dips over to their personal belongings and grabs his phone instead.
He points it at Matt and laughs. “Yes, this is definitely good modeling. Perfect. They’ll sell millions.”
Matt crouches and throws his arms over his head. “Shut up, it’s hard.” Maybe, if he’s small enough, people will just forget he’s even there.
“It’snot.” Robert pulls Matt up by the armpits with an annoying amount of ease. “They’re not looking formodels, they just want you—a Formation 1 driver—to look like you’re happy in the clothes.”
“That’s easy for you to say.”
“I know it seems like some big production, but it’s really not that serious. They shoot digitally, so if you try something and it looks stupid, you don’t cost them anything. The worst thing we can do is waste their time, and you’re already doing that with your weird picture-day smile.”
Hiswhat?“That’s just my smile!”
“It’s not, and we both know it.” Robert huffs. “You’re an attractive guy, but it’s difficult to see that when you look like you’re trapped in a dentist’s chair.”
“I’m awhat?!”
Is he serious? Did Robert really think?—?
