Too bad I can’t do the same instead of my collab today.
I’m so lost in thought that I don’t hear Riley shut off the shower. Hooking his chin over my shoulder, he wraps his armsaround my waist and presses a kiss behind the shell of my ear. “Doing okay?” he murmurs.
I take a deep breath, inhaling the tropical scent of his body wash as I close my eyes and turn off my razor. His skin is hot and satiny from the shower, and I let myself sink back into his muscled chest, his strong arms tightening around me as he kisses that little spot by my ear again. “Doing okay,” I confirm quietly, opening my eyes and meeting his soft gaze in the mirror. “Just trying to get in the right headspace, you know?”
“I know,” he says sympathetically. “I did the same thing. We’ve been spoiled by just being able to go whenever we feel like it. No chemistry tests or planning scenes or conversations about prep and sexual health.”
I nod absently. That wasn’t exactly what I meant—I’ve been doing all that stuff for decades by this point—but I’d rather let him think it is. I’m not loving what a chaotic place my mind is right now, and it bodes well for me that he can’t see that.
“At least it’s only once a month, right?” he says a little too cheerfully. “And at least you have something fun to look forward to after it’s done.”
“Where are you taking Mandy first?” I ask, grateful for the change of subject.
He releases me and pulls his towel off, using it to pat himself down and dry his hair. He’ll let it air dry now into beachy waves, and it’ll look perfect, which is annoying as fuck. My hair is painfully straight, to the point that if it isn’t cut properly into the style I like—short on the sides over my ears and longer on the top—I’ll have the most ridiculous looking cowlick. I have to blow-dry it and use products just to get that effortless look I love, and here’s Riley just running a towel over it and heading out the door. I shake my head a little and smile.
“...then I was thinking I’d take her to Griffith Observatory, and we can just hang there till I hear from you,” he’s saying.
“That sounds perfect, she’ll love it.”
“I hope so.” Riley is hopping excitedly into a pair of shorts now. “She’s never been to California, so I can’t wait to show her around.”
“It’ll be good to see her again,” I agree, returning to my half-finished shave job. I reallyamexcited to see Amanda later, and I’m glad that Riley will get some quality time with his sister. They text a lot, but they’ve always been close, and I know he’s been missing her.
Riley pulls on the bright pink polo he was wearing the day we met, and I pause to take a good look at him while he wanders distractedly around our room, looking for his shoes. I keep telling him that if he’d just put them in the closet every time, he wouldn’t have this problem.
Once his shoes and keys are located, he pokes his head back into the bathroom to kiss me goodbye. When I give him a quick peck and turn back to face the mirror, Riley growls in the back of his throat and reaches a hand up to my neck, squeezing my pulse point gently and pulling my lips back to his. The kiss is deep and grounding, and some of my apprehension about this collab melts away as Riley reminds me who I belong to. I just have to get through it, and then I can come home to my man.
Cooper Coxxx is a dick.
We’ve exchanged messages a few times, and his whole laid-back surfer dude attitude made him seem cool at first, but it was difficult to get him to commit to scheduling something, andthe laid-back attitude turned out to be a complete disregard for anything or anyone. After the text message I’m looking at now, he is decidedly a dick.
COOPER:
Hey man, can’t shoot at my place anymore. Power’s out. Text me your address.
I’m absolutely not going to do that, so I reply:
ME:
It’s the middle of the day man, can’t we just open some blinds or something? Can’t shoot at my place, sorry. Gotta be yours.
COOPER:
No way bro. It’s hotter than Satan’s butthole in there. I’m staying at my ma’s place and we’re def not shooting here. Yours or nothing. Shit happens, roll with it.
“Fuck!”I throw my phone across the bed without even closing out of the conversation first. This sort of bullshit is the one thing I miss about studios. Location is always set up in advance, and performers can’t cancel last minute like this without a hefty fine and the rumor mill churning about them being difficult to work with. I pace the bedroom, considering my options.
I could just cancel. I don’t want to do this anyway, and there’s no way I want him in my house. I could meet up with Riley and Mandy early and just forget any of this ever happened.
But on the other hand, Cooper is one of the biggest names in the industry right now. He came out of nowhere about two years ago and has pretty much fucked his way around the world bynow. With his shaggy blond hair and ice blue eyes, accentuated by sharp cheekbones that look like Michelangelo himself carved them out of marble, it’s easy to see why he gained popularity so quickly. He’s been voted “Most Adventurous Performer” and “Best Bottom” the last two years in a row on the annual Fanboy polls, and if you want to get noticed, Cooper is the guy to collab with. He’s messaged me a couple of times over the last few months expressing interest in working together, and I figured the best way to get the most mileage out of collabing with other people would be to try and work with the biggest names. Bigger names means more excitement, which means maybe it’ll be enough to hold the fans over month to month, so they won’t start asking me to work with other people more often.
So if I say, “fuck it” and tell him we have to cancel…after we’ve already teased this thing for the past week…I’m not sure what that will do to my reputation. I don’t think he can get me blacklisted or anything, not the way a studio could. But I’m already on thin ice with declining subs and people getting tired of seeing Riley with me. I can’t afford to have one of the biggest names in the game telling people I’m not accommodating or that I’m difficult to work with. Creators smaller than me wouldn’t care; they’d still just be happy to work with me. But I need to be punching up a weight class when it comes to working with other people if I want to keep outside collabs to a minimum.
I’m running my hands through my hair again, and it’s truly a wonder I’m not bald. I’m not sure why every little thing is sending my anxiety into overdrive lately, but this is definitely no exception. I want to call Riley and ask him what he thinks I should do. I want to text Cooper and tell him we have to cancel. Maybe we’ll reschedule, maybe we won’t, but right now I honestly don’t give a fuck. I’m so pissed, but also weirdly feel like I could break down in tears at any moment.
This isn’t the worst situation I’ve found myself in with a collab, not by a long shot. Normally I’d be irritated about the last-minute change and send him my address. We’d get the shoot over with and I’d never work with him again.
But before, I didn’t have Riley.
