Chapter 7
Circus
This. Is. Bad.
I flick through photo after photo of perfection.
And I hate to say it, but Rowan makes me look good. The tats, the unruly hair, the confidence in how he holds himself.
He’s come a long way since high school.
Back then he was guarded and scared, and the only place he looked like he owned his skin was on the football field. Still, he always caught my eye. Always drew out that curious side of me that was attracted to what I didn’t know.
The first time I went to his house after school, I remember overhearing his dad asking who the little pretty boy was. And I knew by his tone what he was really asking.
First: Is that kid gay?
Second: What the fuck is he doing with my son?
I was never a favorite around his place, especially when his grandparents were there, so we spent as much time at my house, or wandering Crown Trails, as we could.
And as I pause over the photo of Rowan kissing my nose, an irrational surge of anger passes through me.
I was there, for years, in the secret, stolen moments of his life. I was the only one who knew his secret, and the only one who didn’t push for him to figure himself out.
All I did was wait.
Show him it was okay.
And that night, when he finally kissed me and we gave in to a year of sexual tension, I kissed him like we meant forever.
I had no idea forever would last all of five minutes.
It would be so easy to fall into the rabbit hole of wondering what life would have been like if he’d never left, but I refuse to let myself.
I refuse to think about anything but the fact he’s about to leave again, and then life can go back to how it used to be.
He’s still closeted, and I doubt that will ever change.
Way too much drama for me.
Instead, I’ll take my plants and my little piece of the internet and just keep doing what I love.
I search the couch for my phone, suddenly realizing I haven’t checked my notifications all day.
Rookie error, and reason number ninety-seven for why I need to keep Rowan at arm’s length.
I open the app and scramble to sit upright.
Is this legit?
People are going batshit over the photo I snapped earlier.
And they all want to know one thing.
Who’s the guy?
I’ve made it no secret that I’m pansexual, but I’ve never shared anything before that had someone else in it, not even friends.
And apparently, that was a good move on my behalf.
The more comments and replies I scroll through, the happier my mood gets. It feels like plugging in and recharging my battery, and even as I read through responses from hours ago, more are coming in.
I open my emails and find one already waiting from my manager. Of course he’s seen the photo and is next-level excited about it. And of course they want the Royal Swimwear shots, stat. I reply and let him know I’ll have some ready by morning.
Almost immediately, my phone starts to ring.
“You need to post one now,” he says, without so much as a hello.
“None of them are edited.”
“So post a candid, I don’t care. Terri from Royals wants his brand on your page ASAP.”
What I can’t tell him is that mostly all of the candid shots have Rowan’s face in them. It’s going to take some editing to make cropping him out of them look any good. But it’s not like I can say no.
“Give me an hour.”
“Good stuff, Circus. And whoever that guy is, good pick.”
“Thanks.”
We hang up and I stare at my phone, wondering if this is what whiplash feels like.
Not that I have long to ponder that because, with only fifty-nine minutes to go, I have my work cut out for me.
Most of the shots in the studio have Rowan’s face artfully hidden, but they’ll be the ones the brand wants to use.
They’re more professional and polished. The ones by the creek are mostly for me.
I try to have my page looking as unstaged as possible, which means playing with these shots until we look like we’re just out having spontaneous fun.
From one photo to the next, it really is starting to bug me how good Rowan is at this. And how annoyed I am that we have to hide his face. Because that smile … it used to be the rarest thing about him and never failed to make my knees weak.
Nope.
Next.
I eventually find a shot with Rowan’s back to the camera. It must have been one of the earlier ones we took. But his ass is showcasing those trunks, and the way he’s dragging his hand back through his hair has his back muscles on point.
My forehead’s resting on his relaxed shoulder as I look down into the water, and while this shot isn’t the fun, vibrant look I was going for, there’s something else here.
Something more intimate.
It reminds me of a quiet moment during stolen time and sums up exactly how our relationship used to be.
Plus, the swimwear looks great.
Which is obviously the most important thing here.
I do some light editing to make sure everything looks sharp, then increase the green light being diffused by the trees. It looks ethereal and cool. I almost don’t want to share it.
But I do, because this is work.
I write the caption, Outdoors with him.
People can make whatever they want of that. I add a quick line about the brand and then upload it.
The picture has barely been live for a second when it starts.
And while I love the interaction and the flood of attention and all my happy chemicals are buzzing, it’s all a bit much right now.
Because it comes with a tinge of sadness.
They don’t love me. They love me and Rowan, and that’s not a concept that exists. It’s not even one I can milk for attention because as soon as this payment clears, he’ll be out of my life for good.
“Circus fucking Atkins!”
Oops. The loud voice booming from my front hall makes me scramble to duck down behind my couch and hope Leon gets bored and goes home.
No such luck.
“I know you’re here! Your bike and car are both out front.”
He doesn’t know I didn’t go for a hike.
“I’m not leaving until you come out.”
Urg. Persistent bastard.
I poke my head out from behind the couch and find him already looking at me. I grin. “Knew I was there, huh?”
“The whole time.”
I clear my throat and sit back on the couch, trying to act natural. “So, what brings you here?”
“Cut the shit, Circus. Tell me that wasn’t Rowan Harvey in that photo.”
“Photo …” I tap my chin.
He pins me with a look.
“Naw, you’re not as scary as you think you are.”
He sighs and drops onto the couch beside me. “I’m worried.”
“It was just a few photos. I needed this job, and he needed the money. It was a win-win.”
“Why did you need the job?”
“Because I have to expand my reach.”
“But why? You already have a ton of followers and get sent a heap of shit, and it’s not like you need the money.”
“You’re theorizing, aren’t you?”
“Might be.”
I laugh. “Okay, and what are you reading into this situation?”
He slants a quick look my way then crosses his arms. “I’m worried you’re doing this as an excuse to spend time with him.”
“One whole day where we hardly spoke. Total master plan.”
“Be serious. Tell me you’re completely over him and I’ll let it drop.”
“I’m so over him that the deal for these photos is that he leaves Sunbury again. Happy?”
Leon’s eyebrows shoot up. “Wasn’t expecting that.”
“See? I’m capable of making actual life decisions.”
“Jury’s still out on that.”
“You’ll see.” I throw a cushion at him. “Wanna stay for dinner?”
“Sorry, man, can’t. I’ve got a date.” He widens his eyes like this is a totally new concept, but even with his busy schedule I swear he has a new date each week.
“Well, good luck with this one.”
He hums. “I don’t have good vibes.”
“Then why go?”
“Because we’re not all celibate hermits, like you.”
I raise my eyes to the ceiling. “Celibate, my ass.”
“Exactly my point.”
“We can’t all be whores like you. I get enough.”
“Oh, yeah? When was the last time you picked up?”
“It’s been, like …” A month? Two?
Leon pats my shoulder as he stands up. “You keep saying you want a big family, but I don’t see you out there making it happen. Forget about Rowan. You deserve better.”
I snort because I’m mature like that. “He’s already forgotten.”
I walk Leon to the front door and close it behind him. The click echoes loudly through the entrance, and the silence that follows presses down on me.
Because there’s still so much night left ahead, I stand there and wait until he drives away, reminding myself that I really am alone.
Leon on his date.
Royce and Tanner all loved up.
Rafe not answering his phone.
Dahlia working on tomorrow’s course work, and Jules and Mitch running tonight’s youth group.
I drop my head against the solid front door and contemplate making dinner for one.
Then I head in the opposite direction and go to bed instead.