Chapter 1 #2
“So, are you from Minnesota?” He lined my eyes with the pencil and smudged it. “You don’t sound like it to me, but what do I know? I’m from Alabama.” He stepped back, holding my chin and trailing his gaze across my face.
“No, I’m from Connecticut. I got a hockey scholarship, and it’s one of the better schools for the sport, so that’s where I ended up.”
“Mm-hmmm.” With a quick nod, he picked up a container with pinkish powder in it and a fat brush. “Just a little on the cheeks. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you looking manly.” He patted the bristles into the powder and swiped it across my cheeks. “What did you study?”
“Uh, nothing. I just finished some general classes for a Bachelor of Arts degree.” Mason had finished college with a degree in business, but that wasn’t me.
My only purpose in life was hockey. Okay, maybe I’d go back someday and do online courses.
My gaze locked on Ezra’s brooding eyes and my thoughts ripped free, my heart beating into my throat.
He was fucking stunning. If he were a woman, I’d definitely—
“I went to school for art, photography. Are you surprised?” He turned my face, inspecting me. “I’m going to add a little powder, just to take the shine off your face.”
“My uh, my face is shiny?” As he bent over, checking his tins of powders, I looked at myself.
He’d made the blue of my eyes pop with the eyeliner.
I’d seen my brother do this before he went to the gay bar.
Maybe more straight men should wear makeup?
Didn’t all the cool rockstars in the 1980s wear makeup? And they had plenty of chicks.
“Just a little.” He snatched up a tin. “This one.” He faced me again and patted the powder on my nose, forehead and chin with an even fatter brush than before.
“There. You were gorge when you came in here, but now…” Pressing his lips together, he bit the lower one.
“Anyway, you can get undressed by the clothing rack. Your PR person brought some gear in for you all to wear on the bottom.” Buzzing sounded.
“Shit.” He stepped away from me. “Leave your chest bare.”
“Yeah, sure.” I strolled to the clothing rack full of breezers and a bin of hockey gear on the floor. Glancing at him, I rubbed my chin. It felt weird getting undressed in front of him. But why? I always undressed in front of guys in the locker room.
“Hey, Tate.” He huffed a sigh, holding his phone to his face. “There are two more today.”
I slid my jeans down my legs and kicked them off. Were pads really necessary? It seemed silly…I rummaged through the bin, found a size that worked and held them up.
“No, they’re…just hockey players. Why do you care?” He rubbed his forehead, pacing across the floor of the studio. “We talked about this. I have a job to do.” He glanced at me, his gaze raking over my body, and then he turned his back to me.
As I slid on some pads, I peered at him. Who was Tate? A friend maybe?
“Stop it. Don’t be like that.” He scoffed and sat at a black desk opposite the makeup stations, his body shrinking into the leather chair. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m listening. I won’t speak to you that way again.” Propping his elbow on the desk, he leaned his forehead against his hand.
What the fuck? Was he arguing with this Tate guy? I skimmed the breezers up my legs, fastened everything and rolled socks up my legs. No skates. I guess he wouldn’t be taking photos of my feet.
“There’s no need to come here. I’m fine. These guys are…” With his brows furrowing, he glanced at me. “They’re straight.”
I stepped toward him and planted my hands on my hips. Tate had to be a boyfriend. A very jealous one by the sound of it. “Hey, I’m ready.” If he didn’t want a shiny face, should I put oil on my chest?
“Tate, I have to go. My next client is ready for his shoot.” He sucked in a deep breath. “Whatever you say.” He stood. “Bye. Love you.” His jaw muscle bulged, and he straightened his shoulders. “Sorry about that.” He threw the phone on the desk. “My boyfriend.” He pursed his lips.
Should I say anything? Fuck yes, I would. “Yeah. He sounds jealous.” I watched him. Would he admit it?
“Oh, he’s ah, protective. I think protecting me is his love language.
” With a sigh, he strode to a small round table with his camera resting on top.
“Anyway, use the oil there.” He glanced at the door.
“I’ll have to do your back for you.” Biting the side of his lower lip, he jogged to me. “Turn around.”
“Okay.” I twisted, putting my back toward him. If I had a girlfriend whose job involved photographing jocks and oiling them up, would I be upset about it?
He squirted oil on his fingers and worked it over my shoulders.
As his fingers rubbed into my skin, sparks lit inside me. “Damn, you should have been a masseuse.” With a chuckle, I lifted my arm as he worked his fingers down my spine and around my hips.
“Tate says I’m terrible at…” he mumbled. “Never mind.” He blew out a stuttered breath. “You’re bigger than White.”
“White’s a center. I’m a D-man. We have to be bigger.
” Plus, I’d been working on adding muscle to my frame this year.
I turned and his hands landed on my abs, our gazes snapping together.
His palms burned into my skin and my cock took notice.
Ho-ly fuck. He has a boyfriend. Not like I was queer anyhow. What was wrong with my dick?
“Oh, uh, sorry.” His hands lingered for another beat, and he peeled them off. “Here, you can do your front.” He handed me the bottle of oil and stepped toward his camera.
I checked the bottle’s label. “Muscle glaze posing oil?” Where the hell had he gotten this? I slathered some on my fingers and spread it over my chest and arms.
“Yeah, it’s what body builders use for competitions. It smells nice too, doesn’t it?” He fiddled with his camera.
I sniffed my hand and the scent of coconut and maybe lavender filled my nose. “Yeah, it does.” After setting the oil on the station counter, I strolled to the posing area, the lights already heating my skin. “Okay, how do we do this?”
“You pose and I shoot.” He held the camera to his face, and it clicked. Shifting positions, he clicked again. “Go ahead, do what feels natural.”
“So, no Arnold Schwarzenegger poses?” With a soft laugh, I pressed my hands together in front of my chest, making my pecs and arm muscles bulge.
He freed a sharp snort and dropped the camera to his side. “No, you’re supposed to look sexy, not silly.” His smile faded.
“Oh, so how’s this?” I turned to the side, curled one arm at shoulder height, flexing my biceps and the other arm behind me, while lunging. I ticked my brows. “Sexy?”
He held his camera up. “No, stop it.” He chuckled. “Give me something serious.”
“Like this?” I held my arms in front of me, making arcs, and flexed my pecs and arms. I made him laugh. Finally. His smile was amazing.
“No.” He dropped the camera to his side, a dimple forming in one cheek with his wide smile. “Have you ever posed for a camera?”
I cocked my head. “Sure, for like, graduation photos and shit.” I stood tall, angled myself to him, and then smiled. It felt easy with him now. Was he enjoying hanging out with me as much as I was enjoying him?
“No smile.” He freed a short laugh. “You’re supposed to look tough.” He stepped to me, grabbed my shoulders and moved my body flush to his. “There, now no smiling. Furrow your brow a bit.” He held his camera to my face.
I brought my brows together and gazed into the lens. Why was he still so close? “Aren’t you supposed to be taking photos of my exceptional hockey bod?”
“Yes, but you have such a handsome face, I can’t help it.” He snapped a few close-up shots and stepped back, then peered into the screen on the back of his camera. “I’ll edit these and give them to you when the job is over. Okay?” His gaze found mine. “You can give them to your girlfriend.”
“I don’t have a girlfriend.” No time for relationships when you’re focused on a spot in the major leagues and travelling all the time. “But I’m sure my mom will love them. She’s got a wall of photos at our house in Connecticut with pictures of me and my brother.”
“Yeah?” He huffed a sigh. “I don’t think my parents have any photos of me anymore.” His face went slack. “Okay, just move around a bit like you naturally would.”
I’d lost him. Could I ask him more about his family, or would that be imposing? I positioned myself the same way I had with promos with my gear on and he snapped shots.
An hour later, we’d barely spoken, and he’d taken about a million pictures of me.
Evan entered, drink in hand. “Got you a protein smoothie.” He held it up. “The coffee shop sold these too.” He strutted to us.
“Okay, you can get dressed now, Lucas.” Ezra focused on Evan. “I’ll do your hair and makeup first.”
“Okay, but no eyeliner. I see what you did to Lucas.” Evan sniggered and handed me the smoothie. “How was it?”
“It was fun.” I glanced at Ezra, popping something open in the camera. “Right. Ez? It was fun.”
He stared at me, and his gaze hardened. “Ezra.”
“Oh, sorry.” Fuck, now I’d done it. I sipped my smoothie from a straw poking through the lid, and the sweet and cold mixture filled my mouth. Strawberry and banana, my favorite. Since I’d driven here with Evan, I’d have to wait through his shoot before I could go home. This might suck.
“It’s okay.” Ezra stuffed a memory card into the camera, shut it, and placed it on the table. “Have a seat at one of the makeup stations, Evan.”
“Sure,” Evan said before sitting in the chair on the left and brushing a lock of hair off his forehead.
Ezra twisted Evan in the chair to face him and primped his hair, then sprayed it with product.
With a sigh, I sat in the other chair and watched them. As Ezra bent over Evan, my gaze fell to his rounded ass. Why had I mistaken him for a woman? It must have been the hair.
“What sort of poses did you do, Hopkins?” Evan asked while Ezra worked on his face.
“I don’t know. I just stood there and moved around.” I drank more of my smoothie. Rather than sitting here bored, might as well chirp on Evan. “You’re such a poser already. I’m sure you’ll do fine.”
“Of course I will. I’m going to kill it. Just like everything else.” Evan barked out a laugh.
“Can you hold still for me, please?” Ezra powered Evan’s cheeks with blush.
“What the hell are you doing to me? I won’t look like a girl, will I?” Evan scoffed.
Straightening his spine and holding the brush, Ezra said, “No, it would take a hell of a lot more makeup to make you look anything remotely feminine.”
“Yeah? Thanks, man.” Evan smirked and peeked at me. “Not him though.” He pointed at me.
“Dude…” Shaking my head, a short laugh tore from me. I needed a good comeback. I couldn’t let Evan show me up in front of Ezra.
“That wasn’t a compliment.” With a soft huff, Ezra added beige powder to Evan’s face.
I stared at Ezra. He’d been praising my appearance the whole time we’d worked together. Maybe he actually found me attractive? My stomach fluttered. Why did I care so much?
“Okay, let’s get you dressed.” Ezra stepped back from Evan, flicking a glance at me, and strolled to his camera.
I still wore hockey gear on my lower half. “I’ll uh, put my clothes back on too.”
Toward the end of Evan’s shoot, I doom scrolled on my phone while seated at the makeup station.
I had to get my mind off Ezra, and I definitely needed to stop watching him and the way he moved.
Why was I so fascinated by Ezra? As I swiped through Instagram photos of some of my old teammates in Minnesota, a clap rang through the studio. I swung my head.
In the doorway stood a man with short, dark hair, scanning the area and holding the door open against the wall with one hand.
“Ezra.” He released the door, ripped his expensive-looking sunglasses from his face and stomped toward him, wearing an impeccably tailored white silk shirt and dark slacks.
He didn’t own the studio, did he? Maybe Ezra was late on rent?
Ezra stopped in his tracks, turned, and stiffened. “I’m almost done, Tate.” His lips pressed together.
As Tate strode past me, he threw me a glare. “Who are you? Another one of those fucking hockey players?”
What the fuck? I stood and puffed out my chest. I was bigger than this asshole.
“Tate, they’re my clients. If you’re going to act like that, I’ll need you to wait outside.” Ezra pointed at the door.
“I’ll do no such thing.” Tate walked to Ezra and snatched his hand. “A word.” He yanked him away from the lights and toward the desk.
“What are you doing?” With my chest heating and a glance at Evan, who watched with his jaw dropped open, I stomped to Ezra and Tate. I knew Evan would have my back if this asshole started something with me.
“None of your business, kid.” Tate glared at me, his dark eyes mean and calculating.
Ezra darted his gaze to me. “Lucas, please sit down. It’s okay.” As he focused on Tate, in a pleading voice, he said, “Come on, baby, you know I have to finish this job.” He brushed his fingers over Tate’s stomach.
“But it’s taking so long, and these guys are…you’ve been looking at them?” He swung his gaze at me. “Get out of my space.” He shoved me.
I stumbled backward, and Evan appeared at my side.
“Dude, you better watch yourself.” Evan sneered at Tate.
“Please, everyone, settle down.” Ezra stepped between us and his asshole boyfriend. With his palms raised to us, he said, “Leave us for a few minutes.”
“Okay.” I dipped my head, keeping my gaze fixed on Ezra. This wasn’t cool. Tate was obviously abusive. Didn’t Ezra see that?
“Come on.” Evan tagged me in the arm. “You can’t help people who don’t want to be helped.”
“He doesn’t need any help. Especially from you,” Tate said through his teeth.
I strolled to the makeup stations with Evan. “What do you think is going on?”
With a shrug, he said, “No idea, but I don’t like that guy. Are they together? I mean, Ezra is gay, right?”
“Yeah, I guess that’s his boyfriend.” I glanced behind me. I wanted to help Ezra. He deserved better. He hadn’t smiled the whole time he’d been working with Evan and now? There was something darker in his eyes.
“Do gay guys deal with domestic violence?” Evan rubbed his chin, tossing a look behind me. “I mean, your brother is gay, so I guess I thought you’d know.”
“Sure, I guess so. I’ve never heard about it from Mason, but I’m sure it happens.” Planting my hands on my hips, my gaze darted over the floor. I’d have to talk to Mason about it. We were supposed to have dinner together tomorrow. But fuck, how could I help Ezra now?
Ezra and Tate spoke in hushed voices and after a minute, Tate grabbed Ezra’s shoulders and gave him a hard kiss. Ezra’s body tensed and his hands fisted at his sides.
“I’ll just wait here until you’re done.” Tate fell into the desk chair.
“Yeah, sure.” Ezra raked his fingers through his hair and strode to us. “Come on, let’s finish this shoot.”