Page 80 of The Money Shot
“I’d be happy to,” the man smiled, and pointed at the name tag on his vest. “And my name is Wilfred.”
Wilfred led me down a narrow, winding path away from the resort’s main beach. The sun was high now, reflecting off the waves in a way that made the sand shimmer like crushed diamonds. I tried to keep up as he navigated the uneven trail with ease, chatting about the resort’s amenities and acting like he hadn’t noticed me sweating through my t-shirt.
“Most guests stick to the main beach,” Wilfred said, glancing back with a grin. “But if you know where to look, there are spots no one ever goes. Totally private.”
“Private sounds good,” I replied, trying to keep my tone casual. I shoved my hands in my pockets, feeling the heat creep up my neck. “My friend and I… we’d prefer somewhere, uh, quiet. No interruptions.”
Wilfred stopped walking so suddenly I nearly bumped into him. He turned around and gave me a slow, assessing look, his dark eyes narrowing slightly.
“You mean… private, private?” he asked, drawing out the words as if testing them.
Before I could answer, he tilted his head, his brow furrowing like something had clicked. Then, without warning, he pulled his phone from his pocket.
“Wait,” he said, unlocking the screen with a few quick taps. “This wouldn’t happen to be you, would it?”
He turned the phone toward me, and my heart dropped straight into the sand.
It was open to the FantasyFans page.
A paused video filled the screen—a familiar shot of me, naked, stretched out on my bed. My face turned just enough to the side that there was no mistaking who I was. The thumbnail alone was enough to make me want to crawl into the nearest dune and never emerge.
“Oh my god,” I muttered, my face on fire.
“So it is you!” Wilfred’s mouth fell open before curling into a wide, knowing grin. “Dude, I love your page.”
I gawked at him. “You… what?”
“Yeah!” he said, like it was the most normal thing in the world. “You and your boy are great. It’s so real, you know? None of that fake, over-produced crap. Just… honest. You can really feel something happening between the two of you. I mean, respect, man.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. My ears felt like they were melting, and all I could do was stare at the waves in the distance, wishing one would rise up and swallow me whole.
Wilfred laughed and tucked his phone back into his pocket. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. C’mon, I’ve got just the place for you two.”
He led me a little further down the path until it opened up into a small, hidden cove. It was like something out of a postcard—smooth, golden sand bordered by high, craggy rocks covered in thick green vines. Palm trees leaned lazily toward the water, their leaves casting dappled shadows across the sand. The waves lapped gently at the shore, clear turquoise water turning white as it touched the edge.
“Here you go,” Wilfred announced, sweeping his arm like he was unveiling a masterpiece. “No one comes here unless they know about it, and trust me, no one’s gonna bother you.”
I swallowed, feeling heat radiate off my face. “Thanks. This is… perfect.”
Wilfred winked at me again. “So, you two gonna film something?”
“What? Maybe, I…” My voice cracked, betraying me.
He just laughed. “Relax, man. It’s all good. Like I said, I love what you do. Enjoy your stay.”
In the hotel bathroom, I stood in front of the mirror, fingers working through my hair as I tried to replicate whatever magic Lola had done to it back at the salon. She might have been batshit crazy—and she definitely was—but the woman was a genius with scissors and styling gel. Somehow, she’d made me look effortlessly put together, like a guy who belonged in a place like this.
Now, of course, I was just making a mess of it.
I sighed, leaning closer to the mirror, flattening one curl that kept sticking up. I couldn’t stop thinking about tonight, about what I wanted—needed—to tell Jack. It was now or never, right? We were in paradise, just the two of us. If there was ever a moment to admit how I felt, this was it.
And God, I wanted to look perfect for him. “You’ve got this,” I muttered to my reflection.
The sound of the hotel room door opening made me freeze. I heard it shut again, then Jack’s voice calling out, “Liam?”
“Uh, yeah!” I yelled back, scrambling to fix my hair one last time. I stepped out of the bathroom, my pulse in my throat.
Jack was standing by the door, his back to me as he flipped the deadbolt into place. He turned, and the second his eyes landed on me, something shifted. His expression softened—almost like relief. Then, before I could process what washappening, he crossed the room in three strides, took my face in his hands, and kissed me.