By the time I drive back to Static that evening, the studio looks a little different. It’s darker outside, but far busier inside. The music is louder now, bass faintly vibrating through the floor while Maddie’s assistants rush around carrying bottled waters and equipment, wearing nothing more than shorts and light T-shirts as though they’re in the hottest location on the planet.
I follow after them, sure I’ll find Maddie if I trace their steps. Sure enough, I spot her immediately.
And then I instantly wish I hadn’t.
She’s standing near the backdrop setup in nothing more than a pair of tiny black shorts that show off her toned legs and curved ass and a black cropped T-shirt that reveals her navel and a thick strip of creamy skin, her skin flushed from heat while a thin sheen of sweat glistens along her throat and stomach beneath the harsh studio lights. Her hair is still tied in thesame messy bun as earlier, only somehow messier, with several strands framing her face and sticking to her temple and neck.
What has me wishing to bury my head into the ground are the three male models standing nearby, laughing at something Maddie has said while she adjusts her camera, completely unaware of the fact that she’s currently frying my sanity without even trying. When one of the models touches her waist casually while moving around her, my jaw tightens so fast that it forms an instant ache.
What the actual fuck?
The feeling hits so hard that it actually shocks me, especially after willingly and happily sharing Maddie with three of my best friends. But seeing another man touch her sends me into a spiral of jealousy that burns. It’s not just a mild irritation, not uncomfortable. It’s dark, it’s possessive, and all-consuming.
Because Maddie is mine. Not theirs.
That thought pops up in my head so suddenly that I almost step back, like I can escape my own brain, and it’s then Maddie looks up and spots me hovering in the doorway like a creep.
Her smile is immediate, just like before. It’s bright enough to cut through everything else in the room, almost enough to wipe away the ugly jealousy that claws into my shoulders and clings to me like a cape.
“There you are,” she says, jogging over and completely abandoning the models who still linger too close.
The closer she gets, though, the more noticeable the heat rolling off her becomes. Jesus Christ, she’s actually sweating, droplets gliding down the slope of her neck, dripping down her temple. The sight of it genuinely makes my brain stop functioning for a whole five seconds.
“You okay?” she asks, almost amused, those pale-blue eyes of hers glittering under the studio lights. “You kinda look like you’re buffering.”
Clearing my throat, I offer her a single nod before declaring, “Just a long day.”
“Mhm, sure,” she responds, narrowing her eyes a little too knowingly before she gestures toward the set behind her and the mostly naked dudes in nothing but tight boxer shorts that leave very little to the imagination. They’re also sweaty, looking almost oil-slicked, and I eye them like I’ve just stepped in shit, and it takes Maddie’s short explanation to tear my daggered gaze away from the men. “Underwear campaign. We’ve been shooting since you stopped by at lunch, the studio is boiling hot, and I’m so over these guys flexing under the lights like angry Ken dolls. They’re nice and all, but there’s only so much I can withstand when it comes to witnessing buff dudes I’m not interested in trying to catch my attention with bottle-produced muscles, you know?”
I can’t say I do, so I shake my head.
“What? You’ve never been seduced by a man with oily muscles? That doesn’t do it for you?” the little shit jokes, and I’ll be damned if my lip doesn’t twitch with a suppressed smile I refuse to give her.
“Can’t say I’ve ever had a hard-on for another dude, so no, oily muscles don’t do it for me. Anyway, we have muscles at home, and I’m a hundred percent positive that Caiden’s don’t come from the steroids those meatheads are clearly injecting,” I grumble.
Maddie freezes for all of two seconds before her beautiful laughter bursts out of her, loud enough that it draws everyone’s attention for a brief moment before everyone carries on about their day. Well, everyone but one particularly beefy-looking model whose eyes linger on my girl a little too long for comfort.
That very same model waves at Maddie when she looks over her shoulder to see what I’m glaring at, and she only nods her head at the guy, but something gross unfurls low in my stomach. I instantly hate it, not because of her, but because of me.
Noticing the shift in my expression, she lowers her voice and asks, “Hey, are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I answer, slightly clipped.
She knows it’s a lie, too, because her eyes stay on mine for a second too long. She’s observant, for sure. A little too observant, but it’s one of the things I like about her.
Keeping her voice soft, she says, “You sure? You kinda look pissed.”
Hell, I probably do, too. Only, I’m not pissed at her, because I certainly don’t have that right. After all, she hasn’t done anything wrong. It’s me. Where Maddie is constantly open and honest with each of us, never hiding anything from us no matter what it is, I’m the opposite. I’m the one holding back, keeping pieces of myself locked away while she hands herself over with so much trust like it costs her absolutely nothing.
Yet she knows nothing about my past, because I’ve purposefully kept her in the dark about it. Despite the guys’ encouragement, their blind faith in Maddie and her ability not to judge others unless they do something worthy of judgment, I haven’t built the courage to actually tell her everything about myself. She doesn’t know why I hold back, even though I don’t want to. She has no idea why every step closer to the big L-word feels like I’m standing too close to an edge I’m terrified to fall over, even if I’m one stumble away from falling headfirst over the cliff anyway.
All the while, I’m standing here fighting my jealousy over men standing near my girl while she’s doing her job, because seeing her half-dressed and glowing with perspiration makessomething possessive and hungry wake up inside me. Something like nothing I’ve ever felt before in my life.
It’s not fair, and I know that. To her, to us, to the whole group.
Like she can sense the battle going on inside me, Maddie steps closer slowly and smiles gently. “Hey. What’s going on?”
I blink down at her, and her expression softens instantly.
