Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 69004 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69004 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
“You about ready?” Oliver asked as he peeked his head into Matt’s room—no, the spare room at Ollie’s house that Matt used.
“Yeah. Let’s go.”
That was it for their conversation. It was quiet as they walked to Oliver’s car. Quiet as Oliver drove to the address Matt had given him. Quiet as Matt ignored his vibrating phone because he knew it would be Parker, and he didn’t feel like talking to the man right now.
Parker wasn’t a bad man—he wasn’t. Matt knew he cared for him, but then how much could he care when Matt had never fully let him in?
When they pulled up to the mansion where Matt’s shoot was, he had to hand his ID to a guard at the gate so they would let him in. Once they were buzzed through, Oliver found a place to park.
He would speak now, Matt knew it so he got out of the car before Oliver had the chance. That didn’t stop his friend, though—it never would. He hurried out and grabbed Matt by the arm as he tried to walk away.
“You wanna walk away; we get in the car right now and leave,” he said. Matt couldn’t help but smile at the honorable, yet naïve sentiment.
“It’s my job, remember? And you sound like I’m going to war or something. I’ve done this a thousand times. I’ll freak out on the inside, hide it on the outside, and get through it. It’s not a big deal.”
Oliver’s eyes turned down, sadness bleeding out of his features. “Anything that hurts you or scares you or makes you uncomfortable is a big deal, Matty. When are you going to realize that?”
Jesus, this man was incredible. Did anyone love the way Oliver did? “You’re all heart, Ollie. I’ve always loved and admired that about you. It’s fine. I’m fine.”
Ollie sighed but then he leaned forward, cupped the side of Matt’s head, fingers in his hair and kissed Matt’s forehead.
“Time to forge into battle, sir?” Matt asked, trying to release the pent-up tension inside of him and around them as well.
“I got your back, Matty. Always.”
Yeah…yeah, he knew Oliver did. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”
As soon as they got inside, Matt was ushered away. He made sure they settled Oliver in with coffee in a lounge area and then it was makeup and wardrobe.
He wasn’t the cover boy for the brand, so he wasn’t the only model here. Everyone was laughing and joking and directing orders, talking about clothing, and someone who fucked up the lighting. Each word was a distant buzz in Matt’s ear. He’d perfected the art of toning people down, of partially tuning them out enough that they didn’t feel like a megaphone in his brain.
He felt the familiar rise of the tide in his gut but he rode the waves well, steadying himself to find a way to calm the seas.
“Matt, they’ll be ready for you in five,” a young man with blue hair and gorgeous makeup told him.
“Thanks. Can you make sure my friend Oliver is there? Get him settled into the back of the room. They know he’s watching. Parker called and arranged it.”
The assistant nodded and exited the room.
Matt bent over, took steadying, deep breaths. He hated this. Jesus, he fucking hated it. Hated the flash of cameras and the eyes on him. Hated that the only reason he was worthy of being here was because of superficial shit. Hated the feeling of being laid bare, where people could see him. When it wasn’t really who he was because music was the only place he was truly himself.
And then…then he stood up. He turned off his emotions, steeled himself because that was what he did. Went on autopilot, got the job done and walked away. He’d become a robot to it, thankful at least for that.
When he walked out of the room, he wasn’t the Matt who’d grown up with Oliver. He wasn’t the boy who sat on his roof or went to the museum with his friend. He wasn’t the guy who ate Lucky Charms until he got nauseous or the man whose soul was made of music.
He was the man he’d made himself into. The one who survived. The one who went to New York and made something of himself even if it wasn’t what he’d planned. He was the fighter. The man who fit in. Who didn’t feel like an outsider in his family, or an outsider with his friends…all his friends except Oliver, at least. He was the person who took charge of his own life, the way he needed to do.
He walked out of the room wearing the façade that now fit so well, the mask he needed.
When he stepped into the room, his eyes immediately sought out Oliver. He was there, hands in his pockets, toward the back of the room, all strength and support, his eyes ensnaring Matt, worry embedded deeply in the set of his body.