“If it ever gets too hard,” he says, his tone softer than I’ve ever heard it, “you don’t have to do it alone. I'll be here for you. Whether you believe it or not.”
His words wrap around me like a fragile lifeline, and I grip them tightly, afraid to let go.
“I’ll try to believe it,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
He nods, his fingers brushing mine for a heartbeat longer before he pulls away.
“Good,” he murmurs, his gaze lingering on me before he turns to leave.
As the door closes behind him, the quiet of the room feels different—less suffocating, more like a space where I can breathe again.
CHAPTER 10
Xayden
I’m notsure what I was expecting when we agreed to make-overs forOmegas Top Model, but it wasn’t this.
The stylist has me in a death grip, pulling at my hair, which I swear she’s trying to turn into a helmet. She’s got some vision of what I’m supposed to look like, but I’m not sure I’m buying into it.
I’ve built my entire persona on beingdifferent—flashy, unpredictable, the kind of guy who’s all about making people look twice. But now? Now, I look like I just stepped out of a glam-rock fever dream.
I can’t even look at myself in the mirror yet to see the full transformation. But the guys? They’re already laughing.
“Xayden, you’re looking verypretty,” Todd says from across the room, his eyes flicking over me, “I didn’t know we were doing avintage glamshoot.”
I shoot him a wink. “You’ll shut up when you see me strut this down the runway.”
West grins, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair. “You might not be able to strut with all that gel in your hair. You sure you can move?”
I’m about to come up with a snarky retort when I feel a presence behind me—Ashlyn. I don’t know why, but I suddenly want to look more than pretty in front of her. I can’t have her looking at me like I’m a joke.
When I glance over my shoulder, she’s standing by the door, her usual cold demeanor in place. But her eyes… they keep flicking over me.
I hate that I notice. I hate that it makes my stomach flip with nerves.
“So, uh,” I say, rolling my shoulders like I’m stretching, “what do you think, Ash? Ready to make me one of your models?”
Her lips twitch like she’s trying not to laugh. “You’re definitely something, Xayden,” she says, answering my flirtation with a sentence that should shut me down, but it doesn’t.
I throw a grin over my shoulder, hoping it masks whatever I’m feeling. “Hey, I’m not just a pretty face, sweetheart.”
“Clearly,” she mutters, her cheeks going pink before she turns away.
I’m caught by her reaction for a minute, struck silent. Attempting to pull myself out of whatever weird headspace I’m in, I pull at the collar of my jacket, smoothing it down dramatically. “It’s not bad,” I say, grinning, “I might add this to my on stage style. The fans will love it.”
Jake rolls his eyes but grins over at me; we’re no strangers to catering to what the fans want. “You’re one of a kind, Xayden.”
“Damn right I am,” I reply, tossing him a wink. But then, just as quickly, my smile slips. What I really want is something I know I can’t have. And really, do I even want it? My thoughts spin like a merry-go-round.
They take me back to a different time. Back to when the girl I’ve been in love with forever finally noticed me.
Ashlyn. She’s always been my escape from home. I can only take so much of my dad yelling and hurling insults—even with my humor to deflect, it just drains me. Watching my mom become a shell of herself while my father’s rage grows… it’s too much.
Rain pelts my face as I slip out into the night, the echoes of angry voices still ringing in my ears. The argument at home was unbearable—sharp words and heated accusations that leave my heart pounding and my throat tight. I know I shouldn’t run, but every step away from that chaos pulls me closer to the one place where I feel safe: Ashlyn’s house.
It takes me less than five minutes to get there. I tap on her window and climb into her bedroom while her parents and sister sleep somewhere in the house. I drop down onto her bed, sprawling out like it’s the most normal thing in the world—because this is my normal: running from home to her. My safe space. My girl. And maybe someday, something more…
She pushes the window shut and turns toward me as I pick up her stuffed animal—the one I think West gave her a few weeks ago. He does sweet shit like that. I would, too, if I had the money.
