A rough swallow. A deep breath. A long exhale.
“Before I do that, I want each of you to think of your favorite piece of media. Whether it’s a classic science fiction franchise or a historical romance novel or a modern police procedural on television. What makes it so special? What allows the characters you love and hate to shine?” Jensen took another breath before continuing, this one coming easier. “I’d wager it’s the world-building, all the details in the background that allow the story to exist. That’s what we do. Beyond the never-ending permits, tedious budgeting, and flashy prototypes, we create the worlds in which people live and make their own stories. Today, I’ll be taking on the easy task of telling you how to build these new worlds.”
With another breath and a quick glance at his notes, he continued talking, his shoulders lowering. Jensen could talkarchitecture in his sleep. He could give this speech blackout drunk and had probably regaled a poor, unsuspecting person with a similar tirade while at a bar at some point in his life. Although he didn’t want to think about it at the moment, he’d somehow entertained a sex worker with a two-hour rant about architecture. After that, keeping the attention of people in the industry was easy. All he had to do was unfocus his eyes, forget about the audience, and simply talk.
6
“Which one ofyou left hair all over the bathroom counter?” Casey asked as he stomped into the living room.
Daniel looked up from his phone to where his roommate was standing with one hand on his hip and the other holding out a short brown hair. Daniel had been sprawled out on their couch, reading through the sparse reviews on Jensen’s book and pretending it was a completely normal way to spend his free time before work. Even in his denial, he could admit ordering the book was a strange thing to do when he wasn’t interested in building designs. It wasn’t like Jensen would even know he’d bought it. Especially since Daniel refused to pay for expedited shipping and it wouldn’t arrive until after the conference was over.
“Why do you assume it’s mine?” he asked and locked his phone before letting it drop onto his chest.
Casey’s bleached blond eyebrows went soaring on his forehead. If they moved much faster, he’d have to worry about them flying off and starting a nest on the roof of their house. “Well, I know it’s not mine, and unless we need to worry about body snatchers, it’s definitely not Arlo’s.”
Their other roommate, Arlo, was the reason their house was clean. Casey had decorated most of it, bringing in brightly colored art and too many rugs, and Brody had stocked the kitchen with matching utensils and high-quality cookware. Daniel stored his belongings in his room and kept his mouth shut when interior design decisions were being made, which was for the best. He’d lived with other broke college students before moving in, and all his furniture had been found on the side of the road or rescued from the dorm dumpsters after spring cleanout. After leaving college years ago, he hadn’t made enough money to replace those shitty finds. Though, if he had the funds for a shopping spree, he’d be more clueless than a blonde nepo baby playing matchmaker and falling for her ex-stepbrother. The principals of feng shui could be surgically implanted into his brain, and he still wouldn’t understand it. Which made his recent book purchase even more ridiculous.
But Arlo kept them all from descending into a mess of body creams, intersecting dietary restrictions, props and lube, and unknown substances that seemed to materialize throughout the house. He was the last to move in and had taken one look at the makeup scattered on the bathroom counters, containers of protein powders taking over the kitchen, and glitter smeared on the leather couch before setting rules. Everyone tried their hardest to keep their shit together, and Arlo picked up the rest.
The small man was cleaner than a saint’s search history and, for some unfathomable reason, liked to scrub floors. Cleaning brought him so much joy that he moonlighted as a maid on nights and weekends. Of course, he did so with little to no clothes on and got paid a good amount of money for it. Daniel had been tempted to get in on the gig when he heard about the salary but ultimately decided he’d rather be used as a cum dumpster than take trash out to one.
“It’s mine,” Brody said. He came into the room with a bowl of chicken, brown rice, and broccoli, only pausing in shoveling it into his mouth to sit down on the couch. “I was going to clean it up after I finished eating.”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full, it’s nasty and not in the sexy way.” Casey moved further into the room and shoved the offending hair in Brody’s face. “I have to get ready, and this is in my way. You should have cleaned it up before eating. You know the rules.”
Brody pouted. “I was hungry. I went to the gym today, and I needed protein.”
“You go to the gym every day. Beard hair or pube?”
“What?”
“Am I holding a beard hair or pube?” Casey asked, dangling it upside down.
“You know, if it was my hair, it’d be a pube. That’s like a sixty-six percent chance of it not being a beard hair,” Daniel cut in. His hair grew finer on his face than it did on his ass and could be managed with a few swipes of a razor each week. Not the ass hair—that was a whole other process.
“Jesus, it’s a beard hair,” Brody said and swatted Casey’s hand away.
Still holding the trimming, Casey stalked back into the bathroom. “Clean up your shit before I tell Arlo you’ve been a naughty boy,” he threatened.
Brody rolled his eyes and continued eating.
“Where are you going?” Daniel asked, throwing his voice over the back of the couch.
Casey’s head popped out from the bathroom door. “I’ve been asked to make an appearance at a club tonight.”
“Do you need backup?” Brody asked, setting his bowl on his thick thighs. He was big enough in height and muscle that he could deter other men from getting inappropriately handsy, notthat Casey didn’t enjoy a good grope every now and then. But with his status as a porn star for a decently well-known studio, people had a tendency to push things too far, especially in club settings. Brody was always willing to tag along to make sure it didn’t get to that point.
“What I need is your organic potpourri off the counter, you hairy barbarian.”
“Fucking hell,” Brody said under his breath as he put his food on the coffee table and left the room.
Their good-natured bickering continued in the bathroom, spilling over Daniel, who was once again alone on the couch. Picking up his phone, he tried to swallow down the taste it left on the back of his tongue, but it wasn’t so easy today for some reason.
He was used to his roommates being closer to each other than him. It made sense. Casey and Brody both did porn, though Brody did camming from home. But it was still the same in a lot of ways, so they bonded over their careers. More than that, they took to uploading the routine photo of them doing things together on social media to tease fans and help the other get more views.
Daniel didn’t have that. Sure, he got paid to have sex with people like Casey did, but it wasn’t filmed, and it certainly wasn’t legal. He also didn’t know most of the men and women he fucked longer than the hours they were together. Daniel didn’t have comradery and shared jokes and trips to the club to sweat out the stress of the week.
He had even less in common with Arlo, who worked full-time in tech. They rarely saw each other due to their conflicting work schedules, and the quiet man never seemed truly comfortable around Daniel, so he didn’t push it.
