“You could always shave the rest of your head to match,” I offered with a smile. “You’d be hot with a shaved head.”
She wrinkled her nose at me. “And this is why I will never take fashion or beauty advice from you. Nice gay best friend you turned out to be.”
“First, that’s a horrible stereotype and second, you have a lovely shape to your skull. You could pull off the no-hair thing. Unlike me. I’d look like an egg.”
“At least you’re self-aware.”
Yvette eyed my now closed laptop. I hadn’t told her about my newest project yet. At first I hadn’t said anything because I wanted to make sure it was going to be a done deal. And then I hadn’t told her because I’d been taken unaware by the whole porn star thing. But now it started to feel like something I was actively keeping from her.
“So… I have a new gig.”
Yvette’s eyes lit up. As someone without a trust fund and rich parents, she’d been forced into a life of paycheck over passion—her words, not mine—and she’d gone to school to be an accountant. She had a small Etsy store where she sold a lot of herpapercrafts, but it wasn’t enough to keep the lights on. Hence the nine-to-five job. “Tell me everything.”
“I can’t tell you everything because of the whole NDA thing, but I can tell you that I’m ghostwriting a memoir.”
“Ooh, that sounds juicy.” She tore her chocolate chip cookie in half and handed me a chunk. “What kind of memoir? Is it one of those tell-all kinds? The whole leave no stone unturned, name and shame, lawsuits will probably happen kind of thing? Because that could be delightfully messy. Only if you’re protected from said lawsuits, of course.”
Unable to help myself, I laughed. I loved the way Yvette could find excitement in anything.
“I can’t really say. We’ve only met up a couple times, and I don’t yet know everything he wants to cover.” Okay, that part was a lie, and usually I was a shit liar, but if Yvette noticed, she didn’t call me on it. There was only so much I could tell her anyway.
“Oh, it’s a he. Is he cute?”
“Don’t even.” I pointed a finger at her and gave her my bestdon’t fuck with meface, which had never worked on her. Or anyone. “He’s literally my boss.”
“That makes it hotter. The whole forbidden thing. Doesn’t that get your motor running? I thought all rich kids were rebellious at heart.”
“I’ll admit to doing things that I knew would displease my parents, but that’s because me living and breathing was a displeasure to them, so anything after that was just a bonus for me.”
Yvette frowned. “That’s fucking tragic.”
“And so is your need to dig for information. Just say ‘congrats on the amazing opportunity, Sawyer. You earned it, Sawyer. You’re so talented and smart and handsome, Sawyer.’”
“I see someone still practices his daily affirmations.”
“Eat shit,” I said.
Yvette only grinned at me, which made her dimples show. “Oh, he must be cute if you’re getting all worked up about it.”
She reached out and touched the tip of my ear. “You’re turning pink.”
I pulled away from her and shot her a glare. “Yes, he’s attractive, okay. Tall, dark hair, stunning blue eyes.”
I’d always wanted blue eyes instead of my boring brown ones. I’d thought about getting colored contacts, but then the idea of having to touch my eyeballs all the time weirded me out so I decided against it. “He’s not ripped, but he obviously knows where the gym is.”
He’d also become my go-to fantasy whenever I jerked off lately. Which was a lot. I’d tried to do the whole random hookup thing, but after a few tries, it became clear to me that I wasn’t that kind of guy. I preferred relationships and exclusivity. I wanted to get to know someone before I let them get close to me like that. It had made dating hard, and after the last guy I’d gone out with called me uptight and frigid, I’d sort of lost interest in trying.
“Can you show me a picture? Tell me a name? An occupation? Anything?” Yvette was close to whining. She made no apologies for how incorrigible and snoopy she could be.
“Nope. Sorry. It would violate the NDA.” There were things I could tell her, but I didn’t want to. Telling her felt like a betrayal of Lukas’s trust. And I didn’t want to hear what she’d say when she found out I was writing a memoir for an adult film actor.
Yvette sighed like she was dying. “You’re the worst best friend ever.”
I smiled at her and shot back a cheery response. “I try.”
SIX
LUKAS
