Page 12 of Santino (The Camboy Network #4)

CHAPTER

ELEVEN

HAYDEN

I feel like I’m on a rollercoaster I can’t get off of.

Every time I think the ride is over, it blows right past the platform and starts cranking up the incline.

The darkness creeps in, blurring the edges of my mind, and the pressure inside me builds.

Then I crest the top and free fall. The ache in my chest consumes me.

I feel like I’m dying. The voice shouts incessantly in my head.

You’re worthless. You’re pathetic. No one likes you. You’re a burden. You should leave. No one would miss you.

In some deeply-buried rational part of my brain, I know it’s all lies. But the voice is so loud and so constant I can’t separate its lies from my own thoughts anymore. They’re becoming real. I’m starting to believe them.

Then I’ll cross paths with Santino. A look.

A touch. A kind word. And I feel like maybe I can fight my way out of this darkness.

Maybe if I latch onto Santino tightly enough, he’ll save me from the ugliness that’s taken up residence inside me.

For a few fleeting moments, the ride starts to slow and I think I’ll be able to get off.

I think I can go back to being Old Hayden.

But then the cycle starts all over again.

I’ve been pretty good at keeping my mask on in front of the guys. Happy. Cheerful. Easy-going. That’s the Hayden they know and love. I don’t think any of them suspect.

It’s harder to hide from Santino, though. I’m around him way too much. My mask doesn’t work as well when I have to wear it for so long. Especially at home, when all I want to do is barricade myself behind my bedroom door. I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m a fucked-up weirdo.

I’ve tried to avoid him as much as possible.

It’s best to limit the amount of crazy I subject him to.

But every time I see him, I feel like a moth drawn to his flame.

With his lopsided smile and silly jokes, it would be so easy to latch onto him and never let go.

It would be so easy to take everything he has to offer and still want more.

It would be devastating when he eventually goes home and leaves me even more broken than I already am.

I think he was going to kiss me that day at the mansion. He had that look in his eyes and he’d started to lean in. I wanted to kiss him too, to give in to this magnetic force that keeps pulling me toward him.

But that’s also why I couldn’t let him. I need to keep our contact strictly professional. Only when the camera’s rolling and we’re both in character. I can’t risk blurring that line between work and real life.

We’re supposed to shoot our first video together tomorrow and I don’t know what I’m going to do.

I haven’t told Sebastian about my problem.

He thinks everything is fine. But I’ve tried to get myself hard a few times over the last couple days, even letting myself fantasize about Santino, but it hasn’t worked.

My mind is broken and apparently, so is my dick.

There are ways to get around this problem—not every porn star can get hard and stay hard on demand. But I’ve never had to use any of those methods before and I’d really rather not start now. I don’t know what I’m going to do when Sebastian calls action tomorrow and I’m still a limp noodle.

There’s a firm knock on my door—not hard enough to break it down, but definitely not timid either. “Hayden? You got a minute?”

I sit bolt upright in bed, my heart pounding, and I frantically survey my room.

Clothes are everywhere, dirty ones mixed in with the clean.

A pile of glasses is growing on the floor beside my bed.

The air probably smells rank since I haven’t been showering every day and I haven’t washed my sheets in weeks.

“Uh, one sec!” I grab the first pair of sweatpants I can get my hands on, hoping they’re somewhat clean. Then the first t-shirt I can find that doesn’t have massive sweat stains around the armpits. I stab my fingers through my hair a few times, then take a deep breath before cracking open the door.

On the other side, Santino takes a step back when he sees me, his brows knotting together. My chin drops to my chest and I wrap an arm around my middle. I keep myself wedged between the door and the jamb so he can’t see the disaster inside my room. “What’s up?”

Santino gives me a once-over and I can’t help but cringe at what he must see.

Pathetic. Loser. Slob.

“I wanted to talk to you about tomorrow, if that’s okay?” He points to the living room behind him with his thumb.

My stomach sinks at the gesture. He wants me to go out there? Sit on a couch next to him and talk? I don’t know if I can do that right now.

“I just have some questions about how it all works and everything.”

Then it hits me. This’ll be Santino’s first video with another guy. He’s probably nervous and scared, while I’m over here throwing myself a giant pity party.

You’re such an asshole. Inconsiderate. Selfish.

“Oh, yeah, sure, lemme just…” I shut the door in his face and take a few deep breaths. The voice cackles at the back of my mind.

This is going to be good.

There’s a relatively clean hoodie hanging on the back of my door that I slip on, pulling the deep hood over my head. It isn’t burying myself under the covers of my bed, but it’ll have to do.

When I reopen the door, Santino hasn’t moved. He looks worried and guilt snakes through me at how rude I’ve been. I should’ve been more attentive and made sure I addressed his concerns. I should’ve been more present and available to answer his questions.

I make sure to shut my bedroom door firmly before following Santino to the living room. I curl myself into the end of the couch, knees drawn up to my chest, hood still pulled low over my head. “So, um, how are you feeling about tomorrow?”

Santino sits in the middle of the couch instead of on the other end. His one leg is folded up so he can sit facing me, arm resting across the back of the couch. There’s maybe a foot of space between us. “Oh you know, a little nervous, but also excited. I’ve been looking forward to it.”

“You have?” I stare at him, but he doesn’t look like he’s lying.

His eyes are soft as he gazes at me. His lips are curled in that lopsided smile. He’s leaning toward me like he wants to crawl over and cuddle up beside me.

“Yeah.” He chuckles softly, dropping his gaze to the couch cushion before it drifts back up to me. “I kind of have a crush on you. I hope that’s not like, weird or anything, but I’ve watched your videos and…”

I gulp. My stomach twists into knots. That’s not really me in those videos. Not the current me, at least. All of those are Old Hayden and he’s been gone for a while now.

“I’m really glad my first video is with you,” Santino says.

More guilt crawls through me at the sincerity and trust I hear in his voice. He shouldn’t be glad about that. He shouldn’t trust me.

“How are you feeling about tomorrow?”

My eyes snap to his face at the unexpected question and I’m caught in his gaze.

He knows. He knows everything. I can see it in the wariness around his eyes, the way his smile falters with uncertainty.

The question hangs in the air between us, asking so much more than the meaning of the words themselves—am I up for this? Am I going to fuck this up for him?

“Um, good?”

His brows draw together in disbelief. “Really?”

I want to lie and laugh it off, pretend everything’s great. What darkness? What voice? I don’t know what you’re talking about. Everything’s fine .

But Santino will see right through it. He’s too observant. He doesn’t buy my wide smile and cheerful voice. I can’t fool him. My chin hits my chest as panic seizes my lungs. My chest is tight, my stomach cramps, and the ache sits like an anchor right on my sternum.

The couch cushions dip and before I can react, Santino is there.

His hand is on my shoulder. It slides around to grip the back of my neck.

He shifts closer, settling his other hand on my shin.

His touch is so solid, so sure—even through the layers of my clothes.

They feel grounding, like if he’s touching me, I can’t spiral out of control.

“I don’t want to do this if you’re not cool with it,” he says softly.

“I am cool. Totally cool,” I croak, convincing no one.

“I know we just met and like, I don’t know anything about you, but…”

But we both know I’m not qualified to do the video with him. “I can call Sebastian. He can find someone to replace me last minute. He’s done it before. It shouldn’t be too hard.”

Disappointment—more than I thought I’d feel—spreads through me. I don’t want Santino to do his first video with someone else. I want him to do it with me.

The hand on the back of my neck goes slack for a second before tightening again. “That’s not what I meant.”

I force myself to suck in a breath as my lungs burn from lack of oxygen. “It’s not?”

“No, I…” Santino tugs lightly on my hoodie. “Can I?”

I peek up at him through the hair falling in my eyes, past the edge of the hood obscuring my face. He looks so earnest, so eager. His golden-brown eyes are filled with so much compassion and hope. He looks like he wants to help me. He looks like he’s afraid I’ll say no. My willpower crumbles.

I push the hood back, feeling like I’m peeling off layers of skin and tissue until I’m exposed, raw and vulnerable. Santino's lips curl in a soft grin as his gaze dances across my face. I don’t know what he sees when he looks at me, but I can’t imagine it’s very attractive.

“So, um, I’m not like, a mental health professional or anything,” he starts, growing a little shy and sheepish as he speaks.

“But, um, my mom went through a rough patch when I was in high school. My grandmother died and my mom didn’t take it well.

She fell into this depression that was… pretty bad.

And like, I don’t want to overstep or anything, so you can tell me to fuck off if you want, but um, you kind of look the way she did back then. ”

My brain short-circuits. I stare at Santino, unable to speak, unable to move, unable to even breathe. It feels like my heart stops beating for a couple seconds.

“I’m not saying you’re depressed or anything!” Santino hurries on. “Like I said, I’m not a mental health professional. I’m just saying, you look like you're struggling and like, it doesn’t seem like any of your friends know?”

Everything rushes back at me all at once. Oxygen pours into my lungs, making my head spin. My heart trips over itself trying to make up for lost beats. A million thoughts and emotions ricochet through my mind until it feels like my brain is going to explode.

Santino thinks I’m depressed. He thinks I have depression.