“Okay, okay,” I say, giving in. “Let me go grab my books.”

“Sweet!” he says, grabbing his beat up novel from the windowsill.

As I head back to my room to grab my books, I get a text from Britain:

I don’t care if you have to pull an all-nighter to catch up with homework, but we’re having a party at the manor on Saturday. You’ve got to come, no excuses.

I text her back: Okay, but you owe me.

Britain: It will be worth it, trust me.

* * *

Studying with Miles actually helps me get caught up enough so I can go to Britain’s party on Saturday.

And when I say party, I use the term loosely.

I walk into the manor half-expecting the models to have met a billion Boston locals by now and for the house to be jam-packed, but the truth is, none of them have met a soul. I guess Britain wasn’t exaggerating when she said that all of them have been working to the bone.

The girl looks drained. “You’ve missed out on some of the best shoots.”

Adam hands me a glass of wine as we all sit in the parlor, and I thank him with a smile. There’s nothing between me and Adam anymore, well, nothing except for the raw lust that exists when posing naked with someone. I’m sure if I ever had to shoot with Adam, I’d be wildly turned on again.

But that’s just part of the job.

“Tell me all about them,” I say in earnest.

The models are alone tonight. The Veda staff took the day off, and the AA assistants are at some all-expenses-paid company dinner in town.

Good to know that we’re not part of the company.

But it’s nice here. Mellower than I thought it would be, but nice none-the-less. All of the models are lounging around the parlor, drinking red wine and gin and diet tonic. They fill me in on what I’ve missed.

“Well,” says Jaime, “first thing that happened after you left was that Britain had us shoot in this kinky-as-fuck cage.” Jaime winks at Britain, and she rolls her eyes. “Oh, don’t roll your eyes at me, missy. You loved that shoot.”

Britain shrugs. “What can I say? It turned out great.” Her face falls. “Well, that one turned out great.”

“What happened?” I ask.

“Well, first A.J. cuddles up to me by saying that, at the end of the day, I will always have the power in terms of what I photograph and what ends up in the launch issue.”

“And he lied, obviously,” I say, taking a fat gulp of wine. I’m about ready to feel a buzz.

“Obviously,” Britain sneers. “He told me to shoot actual penetration.”

I almost spit cabernet all over Britain’s face. Instead, I hold it back and it goes up my nose. When I’m done choking and wiping the tears from my eyes, I cough out, “You’re joking me.”

“I wish I was,” she says smoothly, downing the rest of her wine in one gulp.

“So, what did you do?”

“What do you think? I tried it. I tried on the two models who I knew would be the most comfortable having sex for the camera.”

“Up top!” Adam says, holding up his hand. He and Delilah high-five.

I shake my head, turning back to Britain. “And?”

“And it turned out… well, raunchy, cheesy, and pornographic. I hated the images. A.J., on the other hand, loved them. He loved them so much that he openly reveled in his own brilliance over the phone to me, and told me that this has to be the direction we take the magazine in.”

My mouth drops open. “What a dickwad!”

“Right?” Britain cries, pouring herself another whopping glass of wine from the bottle on the end table.

“That’s because A.J. appreciated my O-face and you don’t,” Adam says.

“It’s nothing to be proud of,” Britain counters. “A girl’s orgasm is an achievement. A guy’s is an accident.”

“But what if we all say no?” I ask. “I mean, no offense to all you handsome gentlemen sitting in this room, but I’ll give up my advance before I screw my way to stardom for A.J.”

“I can do my best so you guys don’t actually have to fuck, as long as it looks like you’re fucking and the image is taboo enough to get a rise out of him.”

“Well, that’s just great.” I follow Britain’s lead and down my wine too.

“But how are we going to do it?” says a soft voice in the corner. I turn to look, and it’s the new girl, Chloe. She sits on the floor in a pastel cotton dress, her back up against a china cabinet. I don’t think I could ever in my life imagine a sweet-looking girl like Chloe in a raunchy photo shoot. “Get comfortable with each other, I mean. I have to admit, that cage shoot was really hard for me.”

“That’s what he said,” Jessica coughs.

“Oh, snap!” says Jaime.

“So you’re not comfortable faux-fucking is what you’re trying to say,” Britain says, eliciting giggles from most of the models.

Chloe blushes. “I guess not.”

Britain turns to me. “How’d you get comfortable, Evan?”

As I gape at her, Patrick says, “Her name’s Evan? I thought her name was Rylan.”


Adam slaps him upside the head.

“Uhh… I had a huge crush on my partner?” I say. My insecurities are coming out a little, but I know it could be a lot worse. I think I’m getting over him.

I think I’m finally getting over him.

Britain waves her hand in dismissal. “Eh, that’s not going to work. We can’t force attraction like that.”

“Says who?” asks Jessica. She’s lounging on the couch, Patrick’s head in her lap. Suddenly, she sits up straight, like she just thought of something. “Why don’t we just work on getting comfortable with each other in our time off? Like now?”

Britain throws her hands up. “I don’t want to be watching an orgy, okay?”

“Not an orgy, God,” Jessica continues. “Let’s like, make a game out of it. We’ll have all of us start out from a different end of the house and turn off all the lights. Then we’ll make our way to the other end of the house. If we bump into anyone …” she shrugs. “We have to make out with them.”

There are a few gasps and a couple hums of intrigue. Britain’s eyes narrow, as though she is thinking about it.

“There are two catches,” Jessica says. “The first is that, even if you run into someone of the same sex, you have to kiss them.”

The only models that look around uncomfortably are Chloe and Patrick.

“Second catch is that, Britain, you have to play.”

Britain goes white. I crack up, clapping my hands together. As Britain shakes her head back and forth quickly, I say, “Come on Britain, you heard the rules.”

“Yeah, Brit,” says Delilah.

“Yeah, Brit,” says Jaime coolly.

Her eyes flicker toward Jaime, and she gets paler. Come on, Brit. Don’t show him embarrassment.

“Let’s take a few shots to get this party started?” Adam suggests, and everyone’s down.

“Just so I’m clear,” Ella points to Adam and Delilah, “are you two on again or off? I don’t want to feel guilty…”

“If you’re lucky enough to get to me?” Adam grins.

“Not you, dumbass. Delilah.”

“Off again,” Delilah says with a wink.

My heart beats quickly in my chest. I haven’t kissed anybody off-camera since Dallas.

I need this.

* * *

I’ve chosen the corner of the hallway of the third floor as the starting point, and I have to make it all the way into the dining room in the dark.

Maybe this idea was too good, considering it will not only get us comfortable with each other, but also get us in the mood for Halloween. And I really don’t feel like being scared shitless right now.

The doorbell rings.

“Who the fuck’s that?” Ella yells.

“I’ll answer it,” says Britain from somewhere downstairs. After a few moments of waiting, Britain yells, “Crisis averted. We’re back in business.”

And then I get a text from Jessica. All it says is GO.

I start making my way through the hall, wondering if we thought this through. What if one of us trips down the stairs in the dark and breaks their neck?

I guess it’s too late for that.

Before I even make it out of the third floor hallway, I run into Ella. She must have started in a bedroom somewhere on this floor.

“Well, hello there,” she says, wrapping her arms around my neck.

I have to admit, Ella is pretty damn hot. Dark, smooth skin, and big eyes. I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t slightly aroused when she kissed me—maybe just from the taboo element of it all. When her tongue slips between my lips, I can’t help but giggle. She pulls away, her mouth trailing to my neck, and whispers, “Come on, Rylan. Show me what you got.”

And then she licks up my neck.

She actually licks my neck.

I’m too shocked to respond and too turned on to even breathe. Damn, this girl sure is taking this exercise seriously.

Finally, Ella pulls away and says, “Gotta run, ciao!” And makes her way down the hall.

And I’m left standing like an idiot, dumbfounded. What the fuck? Am I so much of a prude to have a kiss from a girl affect me like I’m a teenage boy who just figured out what a boner is?

I shake myself out of it, wipe my neck, and keep moving.

When I reach the stairs, they are empty. Thank God, because after knowing how my body responds to secret make-out sessions, I’d probably end up losing balance and falling to my death. I reach the second floor. Two people are at it in the corner (like, really at it), so I quietly sneak by and continue on my way. Reaching the next staircase, I slip down it, holding onto the banister for dear life. I’m all the way to the foyer—the dining room is just around the corner. I was able to dodge almost everyone.

When a wave of relief courses through me, I realize that I really need to loosen up before I’m stuck faking an orgy with a bunch of people I still get weirded out over kissing.

A strong hand wraps around my wrist.

The air leaves my lungs as I’m pushed up against the wall. I can barely see the silhouette of the man towering over me—at first I think its Adam, or Miguel. But then he grasps my hips and slides me upward, pushing himself between my legs, and suddenly this is all too familiar.

“What the hell?” I whisper.

“Miss me?” Dallas asks.

My mouth hangs open. There’s nothing I can say or do that will clarify this situation. Millions of questions race through my mind, but I can’t seem to spit any of them out. Why is he here? How did he know I was coming?

Am I dreaming?

Instead—instead—I stupidly wrap my legs around him and say, “I think you’re supposed to kiss me now.”

“I know.”

When his lips press against mine, they’re cold. He was the one who rang the doorbell. But that’s as far as my thought process goes, because his tongue is coaxing my bottom lip, and my chest breaks in half.

Oh God, I missed him.

He keeps me pinned to the wall with his body until I start to slip. He slides his hand from from my thighs to my ass, and pressure builds between my legs. I bite down on his lip, wanting more of him, wanting all of him at once, but he refuses me. He pulls back, pressing a chaste kiss on the corner of my mouth, again on my cheek, and behind my ear. Then he buries his face in the crook of my neck and inhales, and I shut my eyes and hold him tight.

Dallas just stands there and holds me as I cling to him with my arms and legs. The moment seems infinite as he breathes in all of me, and suddenly this isn’t just a kiss.

This is a whole lot more than just a kiss.

Britain


This is the story how a little photographer walked blindly through a house with a bunch of models and ended up kissing almost all of them.

First was Delilah. She said, “Making out with you would be kind of weird,” and I said, “Ditto,” so she chastely kissed me on the lips and went about her merry way.

Second was Ella. That girl made me question my sexuality, if I wasn’t already.

And then comes Miguel.

I run my fingers down the front of his thin t-shirt, memorizing the feel of his abs. I get to look at stomachs and asses and flesh all the time, but I never get to touch.

That’s all about to end.

He leans down and presses his lips against mine. They’re soft and warm and taste like peppermint. I open my mouth, and his tongue brushes softly against mine.