Page 2 of GDL (BBA: Bad Boy Academy)

2

Kynan

A cold shiver races up my spine, which is weird because it's so hot out we've had to stop shooting multiple times for the makeup artist to fix up my running foundation.

"That's it, that's it," Jeremy encourages from behind the rhythmic click-click of his camera. "A little bit over to your right. Good, good. Now lift your chin. Hold out the towel a little farther. Abs tight. Perfect!"

I follow each of his commands, even though I feel silly doing it, like I always do on any professional shoot. I'm way more comfortable when it's just me and my phone in my own backyard. But I have to mix it up a bit, and changing locations and doing a pro shoot is a great way to add some variety.

Never in a million years did I think I'd be renting out a house and hiring a professional team to shoot content. It all started off as a gag, me posting a few pictures and videos online, washing my clothes and hanging them up in my dorm room in my first semester at college. When I created the hashtag GDL—Guys Doing Laundry—I didn't think I'd get anything more than a few thumbs-up and some laughing emojis from my friends. Doing laundry makes me feel better, eases some of the anxiety that's never too far from the surface. That's it.

I never expected it to blow up literally overnight, but it did. I went to sleep and had a couple of hundred followers and woke up the next morning to twenty-seven thousand. Within a week, I'd surpassed one hundred K.

It only grew from there, the start of a wild journey that's led me to where I am today. I dropped out of college and found a manager who introduced me to the content creator scene here in LA. There's a lot of fake people and industry drama that I tried to stay clear of, and it's through mutual connections that I ended up meeting Silas, Tanner, Rocky, Patrick, and Beckett, a.k.a. the BBA.

The six of us were starting out in the field at the same time, but our bond was strong and genuine right from the jump. We're all so different, yet when we come together, it works. When I get anxious, they lift me up. When Rocky lands himself smack bang in the middle of yet another PR crisis, we band around him. And when Tanner and Patrick want to either kill each other or fuck each other, we all leave the room.

We never set out to create the BBA—the Bad Boy Academy—it just happened. And I'm glad it did. They're not just my fellow content creators, they're my family.

"Now look left," Jeremy calls out, pulling me out of my thoughts and back to the photoshoot.

I turn left, and my gaze locks onto a man staring right at me. It takes my brain a few seconds to recognize him—Sawyer Bannister.

Another shiver rolls through me.

"You okay, buddy?" Jeremy asks, lowering his camera.

"Uh, yeah, fine." I try to shift my attention away from the man standing on the back patio, but I can't. I've watched all of his videos, and even though he isn't shirtless right now, he still looks incredible, with the sleeves of his black dress shirt rolled up to his elbows, revealing tanned, sinewy forearms. The navy pants he's wearing highlight his sculpted legs to perfection. I sure as fuck hope to be that jacked when I get to his age.

I don't know where the headquarters for producing these fine male reporter specimens is located, but I sure as hell would like to find out. Sawyer's face is made-for-TV perfection, angular and strong, with sharp cheekbones, inquisitive green eyes, and a jawline that could cut glass. He's handsome and yet slightly rugged in the sort of way that conveys I'm experienced, I've got this, you can trust me.

There's another man standing to his right, but I barely notice him. All my attention is focused on Sawyer Bannister, the man who'll be following me around for the next two weeks. Something that arouses me and terrifies me in equal measure. While I'm looking forward to hanging out with him, he can't find out about?—

"Let's take five," Jeremy calls out.

The crew take a well-deserved break. My assistant, Tharin, scurries over. "Sawyer Bannister and his manager are here. The food is late. And Ashton's sleeping in one of the bedrooms. Mischa's with him."

"Okay, good."

Knowing my son is safe—and out of view—I stride over to meet our new visitors. As I approach, my pulse kicks up a notch. Why am I nervous about meeting this man? Is it because I can't have him finding out about Ashton?

That's part of it, sure, but there's something else. Knowing I'd be spending time with him, I did some online stalking. Sawyer Bannister is one hell of an impressive guy. Initially, I only knew of him because of his shirtless TikTok videos, but I discovered he's a big deal in his homeland, Australia. He had a hugely successful reporting career in the late noughties and early twenty-tens. He was also a pioneer, coming out as bi at a time before the country even had marriage equality. I read the cover article from an Australian magazine with him on the front announcing, "Yep, I'm Bi." And of course, I couldn't avoid learning about the tragedy of his wife passing away, leaving him to raise their two young sons alone.

One thing I haven't been able to figure out is why he stepped away from the spotlight. He's probably rich enough that he doesn't need to work another day in his life. But if that's the case, why is he so eager to interview me? My team told me Sawyer's manager hounded them like no one ever has. He really wanted this profile.

I guess I'm impressed and maybe a little intimidated by the guy. I flash a smile and stick my hand out. "Hi. I'm Kynan."

His hand slides into mine, pressing down on my fingers with a firm grip. "Sawyer Bannister."

Sparks explode in my chest hearing him say his name in his deep voice and accent that's a subtle fusion of Australian yet tinged with an international crispness. His piercing forest-green eyes stay on me even as he pulls his hand back. "And this is my manager, Grayson McDermott."

"Nice to meet you." I shake Grayson's hand. "You've come on an unseasonably warm day," I say, doing my best to resist the urge to stay focused solely on Sawyer and give both men my attention.

"We're from Australia. We can handle the heat," Grayson says. He then claps his hands and turns to Sawyer. "I'm going to say hi to the photographer and have a chat with him about what behind-the-scenes shots we can take. I'll leave you two to it. Actually, before I go…"

He takes out his phone and aims it at us. "Come in a little closer."

My pulse rockets. "Uh, okay."

Standing in close proximity to Sawyer Bannister is one thing. Having him curl his hand over my shoulder is something else. Sparks of heat spread from my shoulder and shoot down my back.

I steal a quick glance at him—his profile game is as strong and commanding as everything else about him—before facing the phone and smiling. A few seconds later, the impromptu photo shoot is done and Sawyer's hand is off me.

The two men exchange a look before Grayson leaves us, and my gut clenches in an unfamiliar way. I assume they're close since they work together, but does that closeness extend to their personal lives? From what I've been able to gather, Sawyer isn't seeing anyone at the moment and hasn't dated much—at least publicly—since his wife's passing more than twenty years ago.

Sweat dots my brow, and I swipe it away with the back of my hand. Why would I even care if Sawyer and Grayson are more than just business colleagues? It's not like I can lay a claim on Sawyer.

I'm not even gay. But I might be a tiiiny bit curious, though. Might have jerked off a few times to the shirtless gym and hiking videos of the man currently standing less than four feet away from me.

May or may not have wondered what it might feel like to slide my hands all over that sculpted chest and abs, knead his meaty pecs like dough, feel the press of his cock enter a part of me no one ever has before.

"…appreciate you agreeing to this."

Shit. I barely manage to catch the tail end of what Sawyer's been saying while I drifted off into an entirely inappropriate X-rated fantasy land.

"Uh, sure. I'm looking forward to it, too," I say, hedging a guess it was something about us spending the next two weeks together.

"I want you to know something," he says, angling his body so we're facing each other. He swings those intense green eyes right at me. My breath hitches, so all I can do is raise my brows and nod for him to go on. "I'm not here to do an exposé. Yes, I want to do an incredible story, but I have no intention of exploiting you or invading your privacy. You may be in the public eye, but you deserve to have a personal life just like everybody does. I won't share anything you're not comfortable with."

"Oh, okay. Thank you," I reply, his words easing some of the trepidation I've been feeling leading up to this.

One of the reasons BBA came about is because after we all blew up in our respective areas, the crew and I started attracting negative attention. I did a few interviews and got misquoted. The magazine who ran a four-page spread on Silas got a bunch of facts wrong. Rocky was made out to be nothing more than a powerlifting himbo when he's actually a really smart and sensitive guy underneath that wall of muscle and loves nothing more than spending his evenings curled up with his cat crocheting.

But all six of us were dubbed party boys simply because we attended events like the opening of clubs and bars. That works well for attracting attention which, as content creators, we need the same way people need air to breath, but it also didn't sit right with us. A substantial part of all our audiences is kids and young people. We take our responsibility as role models seriously. BBA gave us a chance to take some control over the narrative, playing with the idea that we're slightly naughty and rebellious, without it going too far. It worked better than anyone imagined it would, catapulting us into the highest stratosphere of content creators, with all of us having over twenty million followers each.

But our success makes us a target, and my initial response was to decline doing the piece. Then I discovered I was a dad a month ago, and my protective instincts ramped up even more. However, after watching hours of Sawyer interviewing world leaders, celebrities, and sports stars, my opinion changed. He never went for the obvious gotcha, never tried to trap anyone or make them look a fool.

"My passion is storytelling," Sawyer continues, staring right at me. "I believe that everyone has a story. And I have a feeling that your story has more depth to it than you just being a ridiculously good-looking young man who enjoys doing laundry."

I cough. Did he…did he just call me ridiculously good-looking?

"Kynan!" Jeremy calls out. "We're ready to go again."

My gaze drops to Sawyer's lips. They're thick, full, and the perfect shade of muted coral. This is so confusing. I've never paid any attention to another guy's lips before. Why am I noticing Sawyer's?… And why do I want to know what they taste like?

The air between us gets even hotter.

"I, uh…should probably get…"

"Going," Sawyer finishes for me with a slight smile forming on his lips.

"Yeah." A flush climbs my neck. "That."

"Go." Sawyer tips his head. "I'll be watching."