Something flashes in Hayden’s eyes a split second before he spins away from me. It’s so abrupt that I actually stagger backward a little.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have… I need to…” Hayden shakes his head, almost like he’s trying to clear something from his mind. “Sorry.”
He stalks off, leaving me standing alone in the middle of the long, freaky hallway.
No, actually, I’m not alone. Sebastian is still here. With his camera pointed at me. Secretly recording us.
He lowers the camera and gives me a look that makes me pause. It’s not an unkind look, but it’s also not understanding or sympathetic. It’s guarded, almost calculating.
Shit, I probably shouldn’t have done the lip thing. There are strict rules about not touching without consent. It was all laid out in the paperwork Sebastian had me sign.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—” I wave vaguely at my own lips, hoping he knows what I mean. “It won’t happen again. I promise.”
Sebastian studies me for another second, expression unchanging. “It’s okay,” he says before turning to leave.
My stomach sinks. I hope I didn’t just fuck everything up.
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
HAYDEN
I feel like I’m on a rollercoaster I can’t get off of. Every time I think the ride is over, it blows right past the platform and starts cranking up the incline. The darkness creeps in, blurring the edges of my mind, and the pressure inside me builds. Then I crest the top and free fall. The ache in my chest consumes me. I feel like I’m dying. The voice shouts incessantly in my head.
You’re worthless. You’re pathetic. No one likes you. You’re a burden. You should leave. No one would miss you.
In some deeply-buried rational part of my brain, I know it’s all lies. But the voice is so loud and so constant I can’t separate its lies from my own thoughts anymore. They’re becoming real. I’m starting to believe them.
Then I’ll cross paths with Santino. A look. A touch. A kind word. And I feel like maybe I can fight my way out of this darkness. Maybe if I latch onto Santino tightly enough, he’ll save me from the ugliness that’s taken up residence inside me. For a few fleeting moments, the ride starts to slow and I think I’ll be able to get off. I think I can go back to being Old Hayden.
But then the cycle starts all over again.
I’ve been pretty good at keeping my mask on in front of the guys. Happy. Cheerful. Easy-going. That’s the Hayden they know and love. I don’t think any of them suspect.
It’s harder to hide from Santino, though. I’m around him way too much. My mask doesn’t work as well when I have to wear it for so long. Especially at home, when all I want to do is barricade myself behind my bedroom door. I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m a fucked-up weirdo.
I’ve tried to avoid him as much as possible. It’s best to limit the amount of crazy I subject him to. But every time I see him, I feel like a moth drawn to his flame. With his lopsided smile and silly jokes, it would be so easy to latch onto him and never let go. It would be so easy to take everything he has to offer and still want more. It would be devastating when he eventually goes home and leaves me even more broken than I already am.
I think he was going to kiss me that day at the mansion. He had that look in his eyes and he’d started to lean in. I wanted to kiss him too, to give in to this magnetic force that keeps pulling me toward him.
But that’s also why I couldn’t let him. I need to keep our contact strictly professional. Only when the camera’s rolling and we’re both in character. I can’t risk blurring that line between work and real life.
We’re supposed to shoot our first video together tomorrow and I don’t know what I’m going to do. I haven’t told Sebastian about my problem. He thinks everything is fine. But I’ve tried to get myself hard a few times over the last couple days, even letting myself fantasize about Santino, but it hasn’t worked. My mind is broken and apparently, so is my dick.
There are ways to get around this problem—not every porn star can get hard and stay hard on demand. But I’ve never had to use any of those methods before and I’d really rather not startnow. I don’t know what I’m going to do when Sebastian calls action tomorrow and I’m still a limp noodle.
There’s a firm knock on my door—not hard enough to break it down, but definitely not timid either. “Hayden? You got a minute?”
I sit bolt upright in bed, my heart pounding, and I frantically survey my room. Clothes are everywhere, dirty ones mixed in with the clean. A pile of glasses is growing on the floor beside my bed. The air probably smells rank since I haven’t been showering every day and I haven’t washed my sheets in weeks.
“Uh, one sec!” I grab the first pair of sweatpants I can get my hands on, hoping they’re somewhat clean. Then the first t-shirt I can find that doesn’t have massive sweat stains around the armpits. I stab my fingers through my hair a few times, then take a deep breath before cracking open the door.
On the other side, Santino takes a step back when he sees me, his brows knotting together. My chin drops to my chest and I wrap an arm around my middle. I keep myself wedged between the door and the jamb so he can’t see the disaster inside my room. “What’s up?”
Santino gives me a once-over and I can’t help but cringe at what he must see.
Pathetic. Loser. Slob.
