“Today’s shoot is different,” she begins, her voice steady but carrying an unusual weight. “It’s about vulnerability. Aboutstripping away the masks we wear and showing who we really are. Minimal styling, raw photography, no filters.”
The contestants exchange uneasy glances, fidgeting in their seats. Vulnerability isn’t easy to ask for, especially not here where perfection is the goal. But that’s the point, isn’t it? It’s not supposed to be easy.
“We’ll start with some inspiration,” Shelley continues, her gaze sweeping over the room. “The band has agreed to share personal stories about their own journeys—the struggles they’ve faced and how they’ve overcome them.”
I glance toward the stage where the guys sit, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Jake sits calmly, his hands resting on his knees, but there’s a tension in his shoulders, like he’s holding something back. Todd is restless, his fingers drumming a staccato rhythm against his leg. West’s gaze is far away, his expression unreadable, like he’s already somewhere else.
And Xayden?—
Xayden is smiling. But it’s not the kind of smile that lights up the room and puts everyone at ease. This one is tight, almost forced, like a mask he can’t quite drop.
Shelley gestures for them to begin, and Jake stands first.
His movements are deliberate, measured, as though he’s rehearsed this in his head a dozen times. His calm demeanor doesn’t waver, but there’s a heaviness in his eyes that catches me off guard.
“I’ve always been the steady one,” he starts, his voice low but steady. “The guy who makes sure everyone’s okay. The one who holds things together when it feels like everything’s falling apart.”
His gaze sweeps across the room, lingering briefly on each of us before he continues.
“But being that guy? It’s not as easy as it looks. People see the calm, the control, and they think it’s effortless. But it’s not. It’s exhausting. It’s isolating.”
He pauses, his hands flexing at his sides, his knuckles whitening.
“Because when you’re the glue, you don’t get to break. You don’t get to have bad days. And when you do… you’re alone.”
The silence that follows is heavy, thick with unspoken truths.
Jake looks down, his voice lowering. “I’ve spent years trying to be everything for everyone else. But somewhere along the way, I forgot how to let people be there for me.”
The words settle over the room like a weighted blanket, and my chest tightens. I watch as he steps back, his shoulders stiff, his expression composed—but there’s a rawness to him that makes my heart ache.
It makes me want to cross the room, to hug him and hold him until every broken piece of him is fixed.
But I don’t.
I haven’t so much as looked him in the eye since the night I spent in his arms. And he’s let me avoid him, hasn’t pushed for anything more since our text messages.
Is this why?
Does he think I can’t handle it? That I’d crack under the pressure of knowing what he’s going through?
The thought twists in my chest, a mix of guilt and something else I’m not ready to name.
Because maybe he’s right.
Maybe I don’t know how to be steady for him the way he’s always been for everyone else. And maybe that’s why I haven’t tried.
Todd stands next, his movements more restless. He rubs the back of his neck as he approaches the front, his usual confidence dimmed but not entirely gone.
“You all see the rockstar, right?” he starts, his voice edged with sarcasm, his lips pulling into a crooked grin that doesn’t reach his eyes. “The guy who’s always smiling, always performing, always…on.”
The room shifts, the tension thickening as his words sink in.
He chuckles dryly, shaking his head, his hand dropping to his side. “Yeah, well, that guy? He’s not real. At least, not all the time.”
His voice carries something heavier now, a rawness that cuts through the room like a blade.
“You know what’s real?” he continues, his voice dipping. “Self-doubt. The kind that eats at you, even when you’re onstage, in front of thousands of people screaming your name. The kind that makes you wonder if you’re good enough, if you even belong here. If you belong anywhere.”
