Page 117 of Nothing Special X: The Last Stand

Time stretched.

“Xander Vale, What Breaks in Silence.”

The room detonated.

Xander froze.

Lena grabbed his arm, shaking the hell out of him. Devyn hauled him up. Someone kissed his cheek, another slapped him repeatedly on his back. The walk to the stage felt impossible, as if the floor had shifted into a steep incline.

He took the statue with shaking hands as the applause rose ten decibels.

He looked into the crowd, and because he couldn’t help himself, he found Cassidy.

Cassidy stood near the side aisle, expression controlled, but his eyes saying everything as he gave him the smallest nod.

His speech was all gratitude for his cast, crew, the director and writers. The queer kids who had written him letters, the people who felt unseen, and the ones who were still afraid.

His voice broke once, but he recovered. He thanked Devyn with a watery smile and a shaky breath—that got him another standing ovation.

He didn’t thank Cassidy by name. But he locked eyes with him when he said, “And to the people who kept me safe when I didn’t know how to be brave, this is also for you.”

Later, What Breaks in Silence won Best Film. By then, he’d stopped trying to fake composure.

Backstage was a barrage of hugs, interviews, photos, tears, handlers, champagne no one had time to drink, and trophies heavy enough to do bicep curls with.

When he stepped into a quieter hall, his men appeared like magic.

Cassidy glanced at the statue in Xander’s hand, then at his face.

There was pride there. Private and fierce. Cassidy gave him a slight, sensual wink that made him almost drop the Golden Crown.

After the show, all he wanted to do was go home and collect the real reward Cassidy had all but promised on the drive over.

Unfortunately, his new publicist had other ideas.

Maribel Chase had stepped into the permanent publicist role after Carla’s humiliating exit, and while Xander liked her better than Carla, she also scheduled him to do things he didn’t want to.

“It’s just two short appearances,” she said as wardrobe changed him into the second suit. “Not five like most people. Not all night. But two. Let them photograph you smiling, celebrating…and then you can go home.”

Malik fixed his hair with a little more product to get him through the night. “Knock’em dead, party animal.”

Xander tried a growl that fell so short they all laughed at him.

“You’re so cute,” Maribel teased. “Okay so Crescent Review first, then the Astral party. You stay thirty minutes at the first and an hour at the second unless your detail says otherwise.”

“I say otherwise now,” Cassidy grumbled near the door.

Maribel didn’t even blink. “Noted and ignored.”

The Crescent Review after-gala was held at a private club, overdressed in wealth. Silver lights, white orchids, mirrored walls, and all-you-can-eat tiger prawns.

He arrived in the Gucci, velvet jacket, silk shirt open at the throat, and an alternating black-and-white diamond herringbone necklace in 24-karat gold his team had borrowed from Cartier, resting against his pale skin. Golden Crown in hand because Maribel said carrying it made for better photos.

His men fanned out around the room, black amidst a sea of white and glitter.

Cassidy stayed close as he made the rounds.

He smiled. Accepted congratulations. Posed with other winners. Hugged his director. Laughed when appropriate. Answered questions. Let writers talk his ear off about future roles he’d be perfect for.