Chapter 4
Rowan
Wow.
I stare at the photo Circus just posted for a moment, until I come to my senses and quickly stash the phone in my pocket. My grandma would hit the roof if she caught me drooling over a picture of a guy, and my grandpa … he might be getting old, but I don’t want to think about what he would do.
I duck down to check the casserole Grandma put in the oven as she slices a salad to go with it.
Late last year, Mom and Dad decided that moving Mom’s parents into a little cottage out back would be good for the whole family.
It means less stress on my parents while they work at the diner all day, and someone to keep an eye on my grandparents as they get older.
Mom and Dad have always had a strong sense of family responsibility.
Too bad I wasn’t factored into this decision.
The house already feels too small for me and my parents, but adding my grandparents to the mix makes it downright claustrophobic. I can’t even let myself think about the picture of Circus, covered in dirt, clearly about to shower, without being convinced my grandpa can hear my thoughts.
So I clench my jaw and ignore them.
Just like I’ve always done.
Still, it was no better when I was in Portland either. I only slipped a couple of times, and went to a gay club to pick up, but all I could worry about was if I’d get caught. Ninety miles wasn’t enough distance.
“What do you have cooking in here?” Grandpa asks, walking into the kitchen for another ginger ale.
“We’re doing a casserole.”
“Ah, helping, are you?” His expression darkens. “That city’s turned you soft. Why don’t you come watch the football game with me?”
“Thanks, but we’re almost done.”
He hmphs. “I’m sure your gran has got it sorted.”
“Then I guess I’ll take a shower.”
“Suit yourself.” He sneers a little as he heads back through to the living room.
Well, I’m not going to subject myself to him calling the players names that he somehow still thinks are okay to use. No, thank you.
Instead, I climb the stairs to my room and close the door firmly behind myself.
The lack of privacy is just one of the annoyances grating at me, and every time I picture Circus and his fucking twenty-five grand it makes my blood hot. The things I could do with that kind of money.
I wouldn’t be living in this house, for a start. I could actually look at putting my Sports Science degree to good use.
I almost, for the hundredth time this week, go to call Tanner, whose number I stole off my sister, just to try and get in touch with Circus.
He holds all the cards.
And I’m sure he had no problem with getting someone else to help out, but I won’t deny the thought of taking sexy shots with him is appealing too.
I shouldn’t find it appealing, and I wish I could be stronger when it comes to thinking about him, but he’s so attractive it isn’t fair.
I’m trying to work out how to come to terms with being gay, while finding balance with the man my family expects me to be.
But then I think of that photo, and my dick gets interested, and I open a game on my phone instead.
Every time I consider jerking off, I distract my hands with whatever the closest mindless task is, and because of that habit, I’ve become pretty good at these stupid racing games.
Definitely not a life achievement I’m proud of.
Five minutes later and my problem still hasn’t gone away. My dick digs into the mattress, and I swear I’ve never been as horny as I have been in the weeks since I returned to Sunbury.
Then again, high school was pretty fucking rough.
All those lunchtimes I’d sit opposite Circus and watch his lips.
All those weekends we’d hike Crown Trails and Circus’s hand would brush mine.
All those Sunday mornings we’d sit in church and catch each other’s eyes, and I’d try, like the good Catholic boy I was, to pay attention to the sermon and not on what Circus’s skin would taste like.
There’s a knock on the front door, then quiet voices downstairs before my gran calls up for me.
I have no clue who it could be, because most of my friends from high school moved on from Sunbury, and the one or two who stuck around aren’t people I’ve wanted to stay in contact with.
I walk downstairs and almost trip over my feet when I see Circus waiting on the front porch. Okay, Rowan, be cool.
I ignore my rapid heartbeat and lean against the doorframe. He hasn’t noticed me yet, so I give myself a moment to study him up close. The long chain earring and black septum piercing I’ve studied in countless photos. His perfect, clear skin, his long dark eyebrows. That shaggy hair.
That immediately pull together when he catches sight of me.
“Hey.” That one word sounds painful to get out. And not just because of his scratchy voice, but the heavy tone it carries.
“Afternoon.” I try to match his mood. If he wants to be shitty with me, then fine. It’s justified, after all. And when he can barely stand the sight of me, it sure makes resisting him easier to handle.
“You got a second?”
“Sure.” I don’t make a move to invite him in. That would be way too close for comfort.
“I want to talk to you about this job.”
I can’t help it—I smile. And then quickly remember I’m not supposed to be doing that. “What about it?”
“I can’t do it solo.”
“So I heard.”
“So I accept your offer.”
I glance over my shoulder to check no one is listening in, but I can’t be sure. Stepping outside, I pull the door closed behind me. “I’m in.”
“Just like that, huh?”
“Not exactly.” I think about the implications of this job. Mostly naked pictures of me and another man. Not an easy thing to explain away to your homophobic family. “I have …” How can I leverage this without pushing too hard? “Two conditions.”
“Of course you do. Let’s hear them.”
“First, the pictures can’t have my face in them. No tagging, nothing that can be immediately linked back to me.”
“Yeah, right.” He starts to laugh. “What about your tattoos?”
“Plenty of guys have sleeves, and none of my work is anything specific. If someone recognizes me based on those, good on them. But no face. No tagging. I mean it.”
Circus steps back and leans against the railing. He doesn’t answer immediately, and for a moment I’m worried I pushed too far. If he wants my face in these shots, then fine, for twenty-five K I’ll do it, but the backlash if any of my family sees them will mean taking my money and running.
But … maybe it’s time to do that anyway. I can’t live the kind of life I want to here. I’m too on edge, too worried about doing the wrong thing.
If I do this job and move back to Portland, maybe then I can go back to my psychologist. Let myself feel these emotions I’ve always been told are wrong. Because I’ve never felt more alive than in the back halls of the school, with Circus’s mouth on mine.
“Fine,” he finally says. “I can make it work without our faces. Or yours, at least.”
Relief weighs down my limbs. And if I thought I’d been pushing my luck with that first request, this next one is really going to test how badly he needs me. “One more thing.”
“Seriously? The money and me rearranging my plans for the photos isn’t enough?”
I can’t look at him. “This won’t require any work on your behalf.”
“Why don’t I believe you?”
I almost go to call him Kelly but hold back. “When I was in Portland, I tried to move on with my life. I met a nice girl, we leased an apartment off campus, but no matter how much I just wanted to put this place behind me, I couldn’t. Because I can’t shake how guilty I feel over what I did to you.”
Circus shrugs. “I’m missing how this is my problem.”
“I want to move on. I’m tired.”
“I’m cool with it. Trust me, holding a grudge takes a whole lot less energy than you’d think.”
I’m frustrated, but I keep my cool. “Look, you can keep the money if you have to.” It kills me to say that. “This is what I need. Some closure. Once I have that—”
“You’ll leave.”
“What?”
“You do this job, you get your money, your forgiveness.” His voice is mocking. “Then you leave. For good this time.”
My mouth drops. This isn’t the detached coolness he’s been giving me lately, there’s actual hatred burning behind his words. It makes me feel sick. It makes me hate myself as I go back and replay that moment over and over in my mind. Not for the first time, I wish I could take it back.
Where the hell would I be now if I could?
His terms should be easy to agree to. It’s what I’d literally just been considering, but as much as this small town can feel stifling at times, it’s home. Given the chance to leave, for good, I’m not totally convinced I’d take it.
But I’m not going to tell Circus that.
And if what he needs to forgive me is for me to leave, then fine.
“Okay, deal.”
I’m expecting him to hold out his hand or something, but he stays firmly planted on the other side of the porch
“To be clear, when we’re shooting, you’ll follow all directions I give you.
We don’t have to like each other, we don’t have to talk, we don’t even have to be civil, but we do need to take hot photos.
So you’ll shut up, you’ll listen, and you’ll do what I say.
Then when it’s over, we never have to speak to each other again. ”
“Sounds good.”
He laughs. “It sounds like fucking magic.”
“Your eagerness to get rid of me does wonders for my ego.” If I thought joking would help lighten a little of the tension between us, I’m dead wrong.
“Oh yeah? Try giving head for the first time and getting your nose broken for your efforts. Then you can tell me how your ego’s going.”
What the hell?
He jogs down the front steps, grabs his bike, and takes off. I’m too busy reeling from his words that I forget I’m not supposed to be watching the way his ass moves as he pedals down the drive.
I broke his nose?
From one punch?
If I felt like shit before, it’s nothing to the gross feelings creeping over me now. I try to remember the way his nose used to look and if it’s any different now, but I’m struggling to remember.
And it’s not like it matters.
At the end of the day, I fucked up, and now I’m paying for it.
As I should be.
Yet somehow, Circus is taking this chance on me anyway.
Which means I have to do everything in my power to make sure these are the sexiest shots he’s ever seen in his life.