To the left of the stairs was a living room with a huge leather sofa and two comfortable-looking chairs. There was also a giant pouffe and a large coffee table. A massive bookshelf dominated one wall, and the opposite had framed artwork. The end wall was floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Thames and the O2 Arena. The ceilings were pitched, and the skylights and windows gave it a light and airy feeling. One corner was taken up with a terrace, extending the living space outside.
“If the living space is up here, where are the bedrooms?”
Xander laughed and pointed down.
“Oh. So it’s an upside-down house?”
“Apartment, but yes.”
“Cute.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
“Why would we need to bring my stuff up if the bedrooms are downstairs?”
“Oh.” Xander rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not sure what Dillon told you, but I don’t have a spare room.”
“He said you had two bedrooms.”
“I do.”
For some reason, my stomach churned. “Someone else lives here. Your partner?”
“No. I’m single, except for one or two nights a week when I find someone to hook up with.” He winked at me. “I use my second bedroom as a studio. There isn’t a bed in there.”
“Oh.” I tried to sound and look composed while my imagination went off on a magical mystery tour, imagining Xander working out while naked in one of the rooms downstairs. I needed a fan.
“Do you mind sleeping on the sofa?”
“No.” I laughed nervously. “No. Look at it. It’s huge. I bet it’s comfy too.” To prove it, I went and sat on it, bouncing. I must have looked like a silly little kid. “So comfy.”
Xander scratched his stubble, which was so neat it had to be there by design rather than laziness. “I stream at six thirty in the morning.”
“Oh yes, of course you do.”
Was he buying my innocent act? That was his safe-for-work YouTube stream, but it still felt odd to hint that I’d watched it from time to time, considering he was my best friend’s brother.
“Sorry if I wake you up.”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s your apartment. You carry on as you normally would. You won’t even know I’m here.”
Xander joined me on the sofa. His thighs were huge. I wanted to crawl onto his lap to find out how comfortable they were.
“I thought I could show you around London tomorrow. We could figure out where the first couple of modelling agencies are so you’re not stressing about how to get there.”
Why was he being so nice to me? My abiding memory of Xander—other than getting hotter the older he got—was that he hadn’t wanted anything to do with Dillon and me. He’d baulked every time his parents insisted he should let us hang out with him.
Speaking of hot, I was boiling under the collar sitting so close to him. It was weird. I’d been watching his True Fans streams for a while, but it hadn’t prepared me for how gorgeous he was in person. He was a few inches taller than me, with arm muscles wider than my waist. His neck was thick. His shoulders steeply sloped. His designer stubble accentuated the sharp angles of his jaw and made his chin look broad. His brown hair was longer on top but cut short at the back and sides, and he had a black earring in his right ear.
He was wearing a T-shirt that was probably two sizes too small, but I wasn’t going to point that out to him because I didn’t mind the view of his muscles beneath the stretched fabric. It was far too easy to imagine him without the top on. I knew from watching his True Fans videos that he waxed his chest.
My biggest eyebrow raise came when I noticed he had plucked—or waxed—his eyebrows. I hadn’t seen that on his streams, although I had noticed he was well groomed in other places.
“Are you okay?” Xander asked.
I shook myself. “Of course. Why?”
“You’re staring and haven’t heard the last few things I’ve said.”
