Chapter 11 Micah
Micah
I sit on the bed in Kellan's guest bedroom and feel completely out of place.
Awkward as fuck doesn't even begin to cover it.
The room is nice, nicer than anything in my house.
The bed is a queen with a thick comforter and too many pillows, the kind of setup I would see in magazines.
The walls are painted a soft gray, decorated with framed prints of abstract art, a dresser and small desk in the corner as well.
Everything about this space screams expensive and carefully curated, and I'm just a construction worker with a broken arm and medical debt sitting here like I belong.
I don't have any of my shit. That's what hits me first. No clothes except what I'm wearing.
No toiletries, no phone charger, nothing.
Kellan mentioned I could borrow stuff tonight and we'd figure out the rest tomorrow, but the reality of being here without anything familiar makes my skin itch with discomfort.
The apartment itself is full of strange gadgets I don't understand.
The TV in the living room must be seventy inches with a sound system that has more speakers than I can count.
The kitchen has appliances I can't even identify, shiny chrome things that probably cost more than my monthly mortgage.
And the bathroom attached to this guest room?
I walked in there and stared at the shower for a full minute trying to figure out how it works.
There are multiple shower heads, a digital control panel, settings I've never heard of.
I'm pretty sure I'd flood the place if I tried to use it without instructions.
I'm completely out of my element. This is Kellan's world, and I'm just a temporary visitor who signed a contract without reading it properly. The worst part or maybe the part that helped me settle a little was how sheepish he looked showing me to my room.
“The label helped me purchase this. I didn’t need all the luxury but it’s part of the brand. So… um, yeah.”
It felt like he was apologizing to me, his personal touches littered around, when Kellan gave me the quick tour.
He'd scrambled around picking up dirty clothes from the living room floor, kicking takeout containers under the couch when he thought I wasn't looking.
The kitchen had dishes in the sink and magnets on the fridge holding up takeout menus and a grocery list. His bedroom door was mostly closed but I caught a glimpse of an unmade bed and more clothes scattered around.
I'd smiled at all of it. At the proof that Kellan is human, messy and imperfect and living a real life beneath the rockstar image.
He'd mentioned the guest bedroom was clean at least, apologizing for the state of the rest of the place.
Like I care about some dirty clothes when my own house is usually a disaster.
I pull out my phone and dial Jamie before I can talk myself out of it. He answers on the second ring.
"Dude, where are you? I thought you'd be home by now."
"Yeah, about that." I take a breath, choosing my words carefully. "Something happened at the concert."
"Did you meet them? Did you see Kellan?" Jamie's excitement bleeds through the phone.
"I won a backstage tour. Met all of them." I pause, rubbing the back of my neck with my good hand. "And then Kellan asked me out. We're… going to talk, I guess. I'm at his place."
The silence on the other end stretches long enough that I check to make sure the call didn't drop. Then Jamie explodes into a rambling mess. "Are you fucking kidding me? You won a backstage tour AND are at his place? Micah, holy shit! I knew it! I knew there was something there!"
His enthusiasm makes me smile despite the weird guilt churning in my stomach.
This is all fake, a business arrangement designed to sell albums. But there's something in the contract that forbids me from telling anyone it's not real.
Which means lying to Jamie, to everyone in my life, for the next month.
"It's pretty new," I say, keeping it vague. "Just happened tonight. Still figuring things out."
"This is amazing! You deserve something good after the month you've had." Jamie's voice softens. "How are you feeling? Are your ribs okay? You're being careful, right?"
"I'm fine. Kellan's taking good care of me." That part, at least, feels true. The way Kellan looked at me in that office, the way he tried to get me out of the contract even though he needs this arrangement. That was real.
"I'm so happy for you, man." Jamie sounds genuine. "Text me tomorrow and tell me everything. Well, not everything. Some things I don't need to know."
I laugh and promise to text him before hanging up and standing to wander around the room, needing to move.
The space is clean and neat but lived in.
There are small signs that this isn't just a showroom.
A book on the nightstand with a bookmark halfway through.
A phone charger already plugged in by the bed.
The closet holds extra blankets and pillows, organized but clearly worn from use over time.
But now that reality has set in, now that I'm alone in this room with my thoughts, I'm confused about why I even agreed to this. I should have just gone home to sleep and forgot about Kellan. Moved on with my life and let him move on with his. Taken the financial hit and figured something else out.
But I can't. That's the truth I'm avoiding.
I can't forget about him and I can't stop thinking about sweet rum and strong hands and the way my chest stopped hurting the second he touched me.
There's something here, something real underneath the fake contract and the PR arrangement.
Something that terrifies me because I don't understand it.
I'm about to shed my clothes and just sleep in my boxers when there's a knock on the door. It opens slowly and Kellan peeks his head in, a soft smile spread across his face.
"I forgot towels and stuff." He holds them up along with a pair of clothes.
Sweatpants and a t-shirt, both probably a little small for me but better than sleeping in jeans.
"Figured you might need something to change into.
" He walks to the bed and sets everything down, then turns to face me.
"Do you need anything? Water? Food? I've got leftovers in the fridge if you're hungry. Or I can order something. I… uh… don’t cook. "
I just smile and shake my head. "I'm good. Thanks."
Kellan stares at my cast, his expression shifting to something thoughtful before that smile is back on his face. "I can help with that."
"With what?" I look down at the cast, confused.
He makes a small sound, something completely un Alpha-like before dragging a hand through his hair.
“I just… I didn’t know if you needed help or something.
I remember breaking my arm and it was difficult.
No, just forget I asked. Let me know if you need anything.
” He throws me a wary smile but doesn’t leave, almost as if he’s waiting for permission to stay or go.
I just stare at him, not sure what to say.
The offer in and of itself is fine but right now it feels intimate in a way that goes beyond the fake relationship we're supposed to be building.
This isn't for cameras or social media. This is just him offering to help because he can.
I swallow nervously, taking in the way his scent strengthens and his eyes darken a little, his breathing quickening just a little.
This is a bad idea.
Because whatever he’s proposing is absolutely going to turn into something else. Something that might very well end up breaking my heart in a month when we end this.
And yet, I could use the help.
Kellan gently pushes me to sit on the edge of the bed. I go without resistance, my legs hitting the mattress. His hands move to the hem of my shirt, fingers brushing against my stomach as he gathers the fabric. "Let me know if I hurt you."
He slowly helps me out of my shirt, carefully maneuvering it over my cast. The movement pulls at my ribs and I wince, breathing through the sharp pain.
Kellan notices immediately, his movements becoming even more careful.
When the shirt finally comes off, he sets it aside and his eyes track across my torso.
The bruising has faded from the deep purple to a sickly yellow-green, spreading across my ribs in abstract patterns. The scar runs from the base of my neck down across my chest, still pink and raised. The stitches are gone but the evidence of what happened is permanently marked on my skin.
I breathe a little harder, hyperaware of Kellan's proximity. Of the way his eyes map my injuries, a mixture of anger and grief swirling around in his expression.
"I couldn't stop thinking about you either," Kellan says quietly, his fingers hovering over my scar.
"But I thought it was just the incident, all of it.
Trauma bonding or guilt or something that would eventually fade.
I'm not even sure why I came in here. I could have left the clothes at the door but I needed something. "
He leans in for a kiss and I meet him halfway, the embrace much different from the office.
It’s slower, deeper, more conscious. We take our time tasting each other, learning the shape and feel of each other's mouths.
His tongue traces my bottom lip and I open for him, letting him in, letting him take charge.
Kellan's hands fall to my pants, fingers working at the button. My cock twitches in my pants at the fantasy of his hands somewhere else but that’s not what this is. I pull back slightly, Kellan meeting my gaze. "Just helping you out so you can get a shower," Kellan murmurs. "That's all."
But his voice is much deeper now, rough with desire. The sound sends a ripple running down my spine, heat pooling low in my belly. This is more than just helping. We both know it but I’m not about to stop him. I’m curious how far he’ll take this.