Chapter Not Today, At Least #4
As a general rule of thumb, Matt doesn’t do many sponsor shoots—especially not for clothes. He doesn’t photograph well and, honestly, what brand would ever choose him over Robert with his good looks and easy charm?
Unfortunately, they’re in this together.
“This would go so much faster if I wasn’t involved,” Matt mutters.
“Tough shit.” Though they have a professional stylist on set, Robert has taken it upon himself to futz around with Matt’s outfit. Jacket collar up, down, shirt tucked in, out. Nothing helps. “You need to get better at stuff like this so sponsors will want to work with you.”
Matt grumbles, but Robert’s right.
“These nice people want a return on their investment, and the first step is to look less like these clothes are literally killing you. No matter how they actually feel.”
“They’re not—” Matt looks down at himself, at where Robert’s nimble fingers roll his cuffs up. “They’re actually really comfortable. I like the jacket.”
“Yes!” Robert says, with relief. “That’s a start. Now, show the camera how much you like it.”
“Oh, uh…” Matt faces the front of the room and gives a thumbs up.
The camera sits alone on a stool. The photographer is several feet away, talking with a brand manager from the clothing company.
Matt thinks Robert might be interrupting them, to tell them they’re ready, but the other driver dips over to their personal belongings and grabs his phone instead.
He points it at Matt and laughs. “Yes, this is definitely good modeling. Perfect. They’ll sell millions.”
Matt crouches and throws his arms over his head. “Shut up, it’s hard.” Maybe, if he’s small enough, people will just forget he’s even there.
“It’s not.” Robert pulls Matt up by the armpits with an annoying amount of ease. “They’re not looking for models, they just want you—a Formation 1 driver—to look like you’re happy in the clothes.”
“That’s easy for you to say.”
“I know it seems like some big production, but it’s really not that serious. They shoot digitally, so if you try something and it looks stupid, you don’t cost them anything. The worst thing we can do is waste their time, and you’re already doing that with your weird picture-day smile.”
His what? “That’s just my smile!”
“It’s not, and we both know it.” Robert huffs. “You’re an attractive guy, but it’s difficult to see that when you look like you’re trapped in a dentist’s chair.”
“I’m a what?!”
Is he serious? Did Robert really think—?
No, that’s just stupid.
Right?
Robert just says whatever he needs to to get his way. He doesn’t want to be trapped here any more than Matt does. He’s just relying on low blows and flattery to move the shoot along.
Still… What if?
Robert holds his phone up and asks the crew, “Do y’all mind if we play some music?”
“Whatever helps,” the photographer replies, with a strong French accent.
“Cool. So—” Robert plays an older country album Matt hasn’t heard in years. He tosses the phone just off of the white paper set before turning back. “I know you know this one, so let’s move a little.”
He shimmies in place, as an example, and Matt gapes.
“Why would you think I can dance? What part of me screams ‘I love to dance in front of people’? Have you ever seen me dance?!”
“Maybe not dance, and maybe not in front of other people—”
Robert’s voice drops lower as he steps closer. He rests his hands on either side of Matt’s hips, pushing and pulling until they’re rocking together in a figure 8 motion.
“—But you can move, I’ve seen it. Relax for me.”
Matt’s face burns as he exhales and relaxes into the movement. It’s easier, with Robert there, letting him take the reins. He doesn’t know what to do with his arms, so he parks his hands on Robert’s shoulders.
If anyone asks, he’s just bracing himself.
“I don’t think these will be very good pictures,” Matt grumbles, pretending to be unaffected. “You can’t even see the jacket.”
Robert smiles, teasing. “You’re right. We need a bigger action. Here—”
He steps back before hooking his arm around Matt’s elbow and spinning, flinging the smaller man out and around in circles.
“What are you doing?!” Matt yelps.
“It’s a do-si-do!”
“No it is not!” Matt squeezes his eyes shut and tries not to get too dizzy. “You’re going to make us fall!”
“YEE-HAW!!!”
It’s ridiculous. It’s so fucking stupid. Robert is a man child and Matt can’t contain himself. He laughs as he desperately tries to stabilize himself with every turn.
A flash surprises Matt, stilling him. Somehow he had forgotten the photography team was still there. They’re still set up, still expecting to take pictures.
“Hey,” Robert says, slowing but still circling. He unhooks his arm to cradle Matt’s face, to turn it towards himself. “Not them, ignore them. Focus here.”
Shivers creep down Matt’s spine, and his skin breaks out in goosebumps despite the warm clothing.
When has he ever not focused on Robert? Even when he hated him—Matt’s thoughts always revolved around him. His determination to push harder, his desperation to make the first points, everything Matt ever cared about was just another planet trapped in Robert’s orbit.
Another flash and a small part of Matt flares up, warning him, worrying about what someone might see in that photo. If they might find the same thing a flash in a bar could catch. Maybe even more so now, when Matt’s eyes are locked on Robert instead of turned away.
Matt licks his lips, and Robert’s eyes dip down for a blink, tracking the movement. He smiles, caught, before he twists an arm and somehow spins Matt away in a twirl.
If, hours later, he’s still a little dizzy, he’ll blame it on the twirl.
“Have you ever kissed anyone before?” Mateo asked, staring up at the night sky.
It was easier to look up at the sky than at a face. There was less judgment amongst the stars and clouds than behind the eyes of his biggest secret.
“Yeah,” Bobby answered easily. “Loads of girls.”
Mateo assumed so, but it didn’t feel any better to be proven right.
After too long with no reply, Bobby asked, “Why?”
“No reason.” Mateo lied. “I have too.”
“Really?” Bobby sat up and leaned over, right in between Mateo and his non-judgmental sky. He never respected the sanctity of a good sky conversation. “Who?”
“You wouldn’t know them.” Mateo closed his eyes, unable to lie directly to his face. “They’re in Mexico.”
“You’ve never been to Mexico.”
“Um.” Oops. He forgot they’d talked about that. “From Mexico.”
“Right.”
Mateo didn’t want to lie, but he was smart enough to know that it was super freakin’ lame that Bobby—who was younger than him, by the way—was more experienced than he was.
Loads of girls.
Emphasis on girls.
Crushes were so stupid. Mateo knew he had no chance, but there was still a part of him that wanted to own Bobby—to hold him so tight that no one else could ever touch him. To weld their hands together so they could experience every moment of every day together for the rest of their lives.
Stupid. Mateo was so stupid.
Still, the selfish part of him couldn’t help but be grateful that Bobby always disrespected the sanctity of sky conversations, because at least Mateo had an excuse to look at his face.
And he couldn’t be upset that his lies never worked, because it only further proved that Bobby knew him so well, that he paid attention to him.
Mateo couldn’t waste what precious time they had left together mourning the loss of Bobby to some nameless, faceless, future wife. He opened his eyes again, and Bobby was still there, still leaning over him.
“It’s okay if you haven’t kissed anyone yet,” Bobby said gently. Always gentle.
Any girl was lucky to be loved by him.
“Yeah, okay,” Mateo scoffed. “That’s easy to say after you’ve already done it.”
Bobby dipped down so quickly that Mateo might have imagined it, if not for the lingering feeling his lips had been touched. “Wha—?”
“There. Now you’ve done it too.” Bobby grinned, obviously pleased with himself. “Was it life changing?”
Yes.
“No,” Matt replied. “But you can’t be serious? Is that the type of kissing you’re doing? No wonder you can’t keep a girl—”
In one smooth motion, Bobby threw a leg over Mateo's middle, mounting him. “Shut up, I was just being funny.”
Mateo stilled. He tried his best to record the moment, to stow it away safely so he could revisit it in his loneliest moments for the rest of his life.
Bobby hovered just above him, his jaw set, his eyes unwavering.
“Oh yeah?” Mateo swallowed and licked his lips. “Prove it.”
He had imagined it many times before—them together. He pictured a collision, a fight—something rough and ready, with biting and scratching. Something close to how they raced, how they fought.
But it was Bobby.
He leaned forward, further into Mateo’s space. A shaky hand reached out, connecting with his jaw. Gentle, so gentle. “You sure?”
Mateo didn’t trust himself to speak, so he nodded in the dark, under the stars, and hoped that Bobby could just feel his answer.
Bobby leaned even closer, stopping before they touched. He was so close, Mateo could feel the warmth, the damp, of Bobby’s exhale. He hadn’t expected it to be so… intimate.
Another inhale and Bobby finally closed the gap, pressing his lips to Mateo’s.
They were softer than he expected, plush. He was only just starting to get used to the feeling when Bobby pulled away and rested his forehead against his.
“I’m gonna open my mouth now, okay? Just copy what I do.”
Mateo nodded, but Bobby had already found his mouth again. When he opened his lips, Mateo followed.
He wasn’t sure what to expect, but a tongue caught him by surprise. Bobby must have known it would, his hand tightened on his jaw for a moment, keeping him in place.
After the initial shock, Mateo ventured forward with his own tongue, always eager to claim a little bit more of Bobby, eager to taste him.
They explored each other’s mouths for minutes. Maybe hours. Maybe an eternity. When Bobby finally pulled back, Mateo’s lips felt like they’d been rubbed off.