My phone pings—my Uber has arrived.
"I'm leaving! Lock up before you head out, and please, for the love of God, don't do anything stupid like your sister probably is right now. You've got school tomorrow and then back to your mom's. Don't put me in the doghouse. Got it?"
Tina's eyes drop to my feet, a critical assessment that makes my skin prickle. "Dad, those shoes do not match your outfit. Like, not even a little. You're embarrassing."
"Love you, too. Bye."
"Are you kidding me right now?!" Gary hisses, storming over to cut me off mid-conversation with the producers.
We exchange quick goodbyes, and they scatter, leaving me alone with a red-faced Gary.
"Vince, this poor guy has been waiting an entire hour for you to show up! Not to mention the crew was starting to—"
"I told you I'm sorry. What else do you want me to say?"
"Oh, I don't know, how about, 'Thanks for having my back, Gary,' or, 'It won't happen again, I understand why you're upset.' Or literally any form of empathy for how I've been stalling for you like crazy because you're my friend and I'm trying to save your ass—"
Gary keeps ranting, but my attention shifts. Over his shoulder, I notice the guy doing the screen test. He looks completely zoned out, his leg bobbing up and down as he slouches in the chair.
Bored. Not nervous.
Why isn't he nervous?
My eyes snag on the column of his thigh, the denim stretched taut over solid muscle that doesn't quit. Even in that careless slouch, the line of his leg is defined, powerful, flowing into the narrow cut of his hip where his brown leather belt cinches a shirt tucked with military precision. The fabric pulls just enough across his shoulders and abdomen to reveal a physique honed by function, not vanity—the lean, corded strength of someone who moves his body for a living, who could probably pin me to the floor without breaking a sweat.
This isn't the sculpted-for-camera bulk I maintain, the kind that looks good but might fold under real pressure. No, this is something else entirely—wiry, dense, the kind of strength that surprises you. I let my gaze travel down his own legs, noting how his shoes perfectly complement the dark color of his pants, a complete, intentional look from head to toe.
I curse under my breath, Tina's voice echoing in my head. "Dad, those shoes do not match." I'd lunged for the first pair I'd seen by the door, a scuffed-up pair of sneakers. Here he sits, a study in effortless coordination, looking like he'd just stepped out of a magazine spread I'd never even bother to pick up. The precision of his appearance feels like a personal affront.
The longer I look, the more I appreciate how put together he is. In every sense of the phrase.
"Vince!" Gary snaps.
"What?"
"You're not listening." He follows my gaze, his expression shifting from exasperation to something more complicated as he notes precisely what has captured my attention. A weary sigh escapes him, the sound like air leaking from a punctured tire. "Be nice to him, okay?"
A chuckle escapes me, carving the lines of his scowl deeper.
"I'm serious." Gary adds. "We're behind already. Please, for the love of God, don't get punched in the face again. Be nice."
I smirk. "I'll be nice."
Gary's face tightens, a warning etched into the lines around his eyes. "Not that kind of nice, Vince. I'm not joking." He leans in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial hush. "This guy will punch you if you go too far—I'm getting all the vibes." He straightens, his gaze flicking toward the man across the room before snapping back to mine. "You get decked again, and this whole thing is over."
"Be nice, but not too nice? Now you're just being picky."
Gary grabs my shoulders like he's trying to exorcise my entire personality. "Vince, can you please just do this right?"
I nod, straight-faced. "Yeah, I'll do it right."
"Good. Now get out of my sight. Or into my sight. Whatever. Just sit down so we can finally start taping."
Gary storms off, undoubtedly looking for someone else to yell at.
When I approach the guy in the chair, he finally sits up straight and smiles.
When he stands, I realize he's taller than average, taller than the last poor soul they'd stuck in that seat, but not taller than me.
