Chapter 7 #2
“You’re not responsible for me, Lucas. Never have been.
We just had shit parents who raised us wrong.
Rather, they didn’t raise us at all. They threw nannies and money at us,” I told him, even though we’d lived through the same hollow house.
Somehow, he’d come out steadier. More intact.
Maybe because Dad had focused all his cruelty on the eldest son.
“Well, with Dad in jail, I feel responsible for Ian now. Which is why I’ve made the decision to drop out of school, give my funding to Ian, and support him for the next year and a half.
We’re working on a plan for after, but it’ll probably involve a job, student loans, and financial aid,” Lucas said casually, calmly, like he wasn’t detonating my future.
“And he’s moving into a dorm room. He plans to pledge a frat. ”
My chest tightened, emotions tangling into something hot and sharp.
I wanted to be happy for Ian. I really did.
But my tuition didn’t disappear just because he needed help.
Mine had already driven me to places I never thought I’d go, choices I’d never planned to make.
Things Lucas could never know. If he did, he’d shut it all down without hesitation.
And then came the final blow. The part he hadn’t said yet, but I already felt coming.
The apartment was going to be gone too.
“You’re so close to being done. Why quit?
” His funding alone could give our brother a year and a half of school, but I knew that wasn’t the whole story.
Lucas had always loved school. If he still did, he wouldn’t be walking away from it.
“And what does this mean for the apartment?” I asked, clinging to the possibility that I might be given time. Maybe roommates. Maybe a chance.
“I interviewed at the end of summer with one of Dad’s biggest competitors, and I got the job. It pays well, and I don’t need a degree.”
His gaze dropped to the floor, lingering there a second too long. Whatever he wasn’t saying stayed buried. It wouldn’t have changed anything, anyway. I could already guess. Dad’s biggest competitor just happened to be his former best friend.
“You have the apartment for a few weeks, until the end of the month, but I’m moving out of the city. I bet you could live with Theo.”
I almost laughed. Lucas didn’t know Theo had a roommate now, or that the spare room had turned into something out of a very specific, very uncomfortable fantasy.
I wasn’t about to explain it. He was right about one thing.
I needed to get my shit together. I’d figure it out on my own…
or with Theo’s help. He couldn’t house me, but he could point me somewhere survivable.
He always had his life lined up better than I did.
“Well, I’m happy for you. I’m glad you’re free of Dad.”
Lucas had always been eager to carry on Dad’s legacy, to prove himself worthy of it. But eagerness didn’t mean happiness. None of us escaped that gravitational pull. We’d all bent ourselves into shapes trying to earn Dad’s approval, mistaking it for love.
“I can’t get too far and free. I’m cooperating with the investigation. He’s going away for a long time, and I hope you understand that, Beckett. Dad can’t bail you out of this, never again. We’re on our own.”
Something in him fractured as he said it, like the words cost more than he was willing to admit.
I understood. I was still waiting for the police to call me, but the only one who had was Dad’s lawyer, David.
I let his calls ring out every time. He wanted my help.
I had none to give, and even less desire to stand up for my father.
“Yeah, I know. Don’t worry about me, brother. I’ve got a plan,” I said.
He studied me for a moment, one brow lifting, curiosity flickering across his face. He didn’t ask. Lucas rarely pushed when he thought the truth might hurt.
“Well. I’m heading to class, but I’ll see you tonight. If you’re home, I’ll make us dinner. I’ve been learning how to cook, and my spaghetti is pretty good.”
He smiled, proud and hopeful in a way that made my chest tighten.
I didn’t answer in time.
The silence settled thick and uncomfortable between us, and by the time I looked up, he was already turning away. The expression on his face as he left caught me off guard, and guilt wrapped around my ribs, squeezing until it hurt.
I sat in my room, ready to do nothing today but study and relax. I had nowhere to be, no money to spend, and no other responsibilities. I felt my phone vibrate on the nightstand and reached for it, happy to see it was Theo.
Theo: Holy fuck, have you seen the comments on your page from our video?!
Me: No, I haven’t logged in.
I had no desire to go through the comments and see what people were saying. The idea made me sick with anxiety. He had a large subscriber list. What if they hated me? Never wanted to see me again? What if I had no subscribers?
Theo: Check.
I grabbed my laptop from the edge of my bed and opened the website, flabbergasted at the amount of notifications.
Instead of clicking each one, I opened my page.
It has listed two hundred and fifty subscribers in the few days since posting.
The video itself had a couple hundred in tips, and dozens of comments to sift through.
I NEED to see Asher and Beckett together!! The banter and chemistry is insane.
Theo’s great on his knees as always.
New guy sounds fantastic when he comes.
Cum swapping is hot.
MORE MORE MORE! There were more comments than I expected.
Most were supportive, curious about the new guy, peppered with fire emojis and speculation.
A handful were louder, more demanding, asking for a scene with Asher.
I scrolled past those, my thumb slowing anyway.
I wasn’t ready for that. Still, I’d known this was part of the deal from the moment I’d pitched the idea of joining. Lines blur eventually.
Theo broke down the numbers for me. Subscriber fees hit at the end of each month, about six dollars per person after the site took its cut.
Anyone who signed up by the twenty-fifth would count toward my first real, adult direct deposit.
Big enough to feel like something. In a couple of weeks, if things held steady, I could finally set up a payment plan for my classes.
Tips came every Friday, though my first video had only pulled in a few hundred dollars.
Theo called it average, said it like that word was supposed to soothe me.
It worked anyway.
Still buzzing, I dialed Theo instead of texting, pacing my room while it rang. “I can’t believe the response,” I said when he picked up.
“I knew they’d love you. And they’d love us together.
Who wouldn’t? We’re hot.” He chuckled. “Are you ready for Saturday’s filming?
Let me know if it’s too much. I can keep blowing you.
I don’t mind.” I pictured him saying it, head tipped down, cheeks flushed the way they always were when he flirted too openly.
“It’s not too much. I’m excited. I feel like I’ve been missing out long enough. And I think the subscribers will like seeing new stuff,” I answered honestly.
“Apparently, they’d really like to see you with Asher,” he teased.
“I’m not even sure what that’d look like. He’s not going to be happy unless he’s fucking me, and I’m not sure I’m willing to submit to him like that.”
“Well, I don’t think being the bottom means you have to be submissive.
” The idea caught, sharp and unexpected, and he kept going before I could ask.
“There are people who top from the bottom. I’ll send you some, uh, research.
” He laughed. By research, I assumed he meant porn.
I didn’t argue. “Now get off the phone with me and go message some of your subscribers. You have dozens of messages waiting.” I knew Theo had access to my account, so he could see everything.
How would he feel about the messages from other men? Would he get jealous?
“I don’t even know what to say,” I responded, rubbing my thumb against the edge of my phone as if it might give me instructions.
I wasn’t na?ve. I knew most of the messages were from men, strangers whose interest came with expectations I’d never practiced meeting, and I assumed flirting was the price of entry.
“Talk to them how you’d talk to a woman,” Theo said, his voice easy, already confident I’d figure it out.
“Flirt a bit, tease them, but don’t go too far.
You don’t want them to think anything is real, but you don’t want them to unsubscribe because they think you’re rude and ignoring them.
” The words slipped out easily, as if they were second nature to him.
I sighed, the sound slipping out before I could stop it, my shoulders sagging as I stared at the waiting notifications. “I’ll try my best.”
He chuckled. “I’ll be judging your responses.
” And suddenly, I regretted giving him my login information.
It was one thing to try my best at flirting with a man—hell, maybe it’d be good practice if I decided to pursue one in the future—but it was anxiety-inducing to know my gay best friend would be judging my moves.
“Don’t get too comfortable with them. I don’t share. ”
I wanted to point out that that was a lie.
Or that we weren’t together. The correction sat on my tongue, sharp and ready, but I swallowed it back.
Saying it out loud felt wrong. In some quiet, unexamined way, I had always belonged to him.
I’d always put him first, drawn his attention away from others and held it there, greedy and unthinking.
I hadn’t known what to call that back then.
I was only just beginning to understand what it meant.
Before my body betrayed me and turned the moment into something else entirely, I reached for a subject change, clearing my throat as if it could reset the conversation. “So, tomorrow, I’ll meet you guys at the party at nine?” I asked, keeping my tone light, deliberate.
“Yeah, sure. Gotta go,” he said, the words rushed and clipped, already halfway gone before I could respond. The line went dead, the abrupt silence pressing against my ear.
I lowered the phone slowly, staring at the dark screen. It wasn’t like him to disappear without warning, without a joke or a lingering goodbye. Unease crept in, thin and insistent. I hoped I hadn’t said something wrong. I hoped he didn’t hear rejection where I’d only meant to breathe.
***
Theo Pembroke
I hated hanging up on Beckett, but I didn’t know what else to do.
I’d called him mine, said I didn’t share, and then my body betrayed me mid-conversation, arousal threading through something that should’ve stayed safe.
Worse than that, he’d changed the subject afterward.
Smoothly. Carefully. Like he didn’t want to acknowledge what had just happened. Like I’d crossed a line.
That hurt more than if he’d called it out.
If I didn’t get my feelings under control, I was going to lose him. I’d felt it in the way his voice shifted, the way the warmth drained just enough to make room for distance. I couldn’t let that happen. I wouldn’t.
Sex for money had to stay separate from what I’d been carrying since we were kids. From the quiet longing, the way I’d always watched him a second too long, wanting things I never let myself name.
To him, I might just be an experience. A way to make money. A safe place to experiment. But a guy like Beckett didn’t end up with someone like me. He wouldn’t choose the boy he’d grown up with, wouldn’t pick the guy he explored with when he wasn’t even sure what he wanted.
I had to accept that, no matter how much it hollowed me out.
Beckett wasn’t mine.