Page 74 of Pieces of Me

“Anytime, man.” Another silence. “How is he? I can barely picture his face anymore.”

Rylan scrubbed one hand over his eyes. “He seems happy enough. He’s got a nice car, a gorgeous apartment… He’s like the toast of the town. Here, see for yourself.”

He gave Gabriel the name of Scott’s Instagram account, waiting while he looked it up. Gabriel let out a long, low whistle. “Damn. He was hot as a kid, but now―if I was into guys, believe me, I’d be on my knees in a heartbeat worshipping that work of art.”

Rylan snorted. “My daily struggle,” he said, his tone dry. He filled Gabriel in on the night at the diner, his decision to hold Scott at arm’s length and how hard it was proving to do. “He was my first,” he said simply. “My first kiss. My first intimacy. My first love. He was my first in every way that truly matters.”

Gabriel didn’t say anything for a moment. “He looks the same, but yet…different. I can’t really put my finger on why.”

Rylan gave a mirthless chuckle. “He looks to me sometimes like he’s wearing a mask, playing a part. So much work goes into the Scott Ashworth brand, it’s unbelievable.” He told Gabriel what he’d heard in the meeting. “Juice cleanses, manscaping, special diets, endless gym time, and the whole thing is nothing but his armor, his―his defense. Shit, I’m not making one bit of sense.”

“No, you are,” Gabriel said softly. “As someone who knew him back then, I can totally see what you mean, and that’s what I was trying to say. Hmmm, this picture with you, though…that’s more the Scott I remember.”

“With me?”

Curious, Rylan opened Instagram on his laptop, clicked on Scott’s account, and there he was, perched on Scott’s back in all his red-faced, sweaty glory. He groaned. “Shit, he reposted that from the club account! I look terrible!”

“Awww, and a hundred thousand people saw,” Gabriel teased him. “But do you see what I mean? His face looks…different. Open, softer. It’s so obvious, Rylan.”

Rylan studied the picture. “Well, I think―I hope we’re on our way back to being friends. All I want is for Scott to feel like he can be himself with me, to trust me like he used to.”

“And trust goes both ways,” Gabriel reminded him. “He hurt you pretty badly when he left.”

“He did, but I don’t have any doubt he hurt himself more,” Rylan rejoined. “What he did was so fucking impulsive.” The remembered panic and worry of those first few weeks after Scott’s disappearance crowded into Rylan’s throat, choking him. He bit his lip. “I can’t imagine he had anywhere close to an easy time of it.”

“Yeah. Whatever he went through has to have changed him, for the good or not-so-good, and it’s way too soon for you to tell. Just be careful, my man,” Gabriel said, his voice gentle. “Be careful with giving him any sort of power over you again.”

Rylan cleared his throat. “Thanks for listening, Gabe. You rock.”

“Back atcha.”

“But hey, listen,” Rylan said, determined to change the subject. “Scott and I are coming to Miami in a couple of weeks!” He dropped his next bombshell on Gabriel with glee, enjoying hearing him sputter before detailing his new job, the upcoming MC₂ shoot and South Beach party.

At last they said their good-byes. Rylan promised to call and let him know when he and Scott arrived in Miami and were settled. Rylan collapsed back down into the pillows, thinking that life couldn’t get any more fucking surreal.

✩✩✩

Scott stood naked inside his walk-in closet, fresh from the shower, debating what to wear to the club. He rifled through his clothes desultorily, thinking that black was always a safe choice. It was slimming, and with some eyeliner and a few understated accessories…he grimaced. Maybe it was too safe. MC₂ was watching him, he knew, both the club’s and Scott’s social media accounts, assessing his looks and clothing, the way he interacted with his fans―pretty much everything about him would be subjected to intense scrutiny in the weeks leading up to the model search.

He slumped a little, suddenly bone-weary. Being on a public stage all the time was fucking exhausting. He couldn’t have a bad day, couldn’t ever appear to be anything other than sexy and ready for a party. Heaven forbid he be photographed with bags under his eyes or a fucking zit on his chin.

In the next instant, though, bitter shame flooded through him. He was an asshole for feeling ungrateful even for one tiny instant. Everything he had he was goddamn lucky to have, and while his looks had been the source of some of his deepest pain, they’d also saved his life…

A knock sounded on the front door, startling him, and Scott grabbed up a pair of cutoff sweatpants and pulled them on as he went to answer it, blowing out a calming breath. He figured he knew who it was, and this wasn’t going to be pleasant.

“Hey.” He stood back and let Lance in, closing the door to lean against it, his body language subtly conveying that Lance wouldn’t be staying long. “I thought we were going to talk at the club tonight.”

“I know, but I―uh, I brought you something from Vegas.” Lance was clutching a bright yellow bag, fidgeting with it. “I could have given it to you there at the club, but you’d have to worry about keeping track of it, or it getting broken, so I thought I’d stop over―” He clamped his lips shut when he realized he was babbling and held the bag out.

Scott took it, reaching inside to pull out a coffee mug emblazoned with the M&Ms characters dressed in Star Wars costumes, a large assortment of the candies wrapped in cellophane and stuffed inside the mug.

“I know you love M&Ms on cheat day, and since coffee is your only real vice, I thought, well, this is cute, and it’ll be something you can use, too.” Lance’s voice held a note of anxiety, which tugged at Scott’s unwilling heartstrings a little, although he didn’t say anything other than a quiet “thanks” as he moved to the kitchen to set the mug on the island.

“Bingeing the Star Wars movies on DVD was our first real date,” Lance said from behind him, “so I thought―”

“That wasn’t a date, Lance.” Scott was determined to rip the Band-Aid off and get this over with for both their sakes. “We fucked and then watched movies until we were ready to go at it again. It was nothing more than that.”

He forced himself to keep his face impassive as Lance’s eyes blazed with hurt. “It was,” he protested. “That was the night you said you’d never felt this way, remember? We―”