Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
The last thing Jordan Brooks could be considered is humble, but his modest one-bedroom condo in West Hollywood shows that he hasn’t adjusted to fame yet, and I find it cute. We need to get him an upgrade, but that can wait.
The moment Ben says the best words I’ve ever heard—“That’s a wrap for Faking It”—Jordan and I are out the door before the wrap party even begins.
We hug the cast and the crew, but lucky for us, I have a scheduling conflict. I’m heading to another sound stage at the studio next door, where our Eleven music video is being made. The second it’s edited, the single will drop, the Encore album and tour will be announced, and I’ll be thrown back into the music world.
Jordan drives me in his Prius to the set and comes with me so he can watch. I told him he could stay at the wrap party if he wanted to, but he has no interest in spending time with Ben if he doesn’t have to, and I’m on board with that. I’ve been waiting for his vengeance, for his wrath, but I get the impression he’s too busy trying to do damage control for his own career to even think about ruining ours anymore.
The viral video has people speaking out against him, and he’s already been dropped from his next project.
When we get to set, the others are all waiting on me.
“I know. I know. We’re late. Let’s do this. Where do you need me? Wardrobe?”
“Here.” Harley throws me some clothes.
Because we’re still very much keeping our reunion under wraps, it’s a closed set with basically us, two production assistants, a director, and then limited camera crew.
While I get dressed, Harley shoves a tablet in my face. A music video starts, and it’s all the single shots of the other guys and their storylines. There’s some of the footage Jordan took back in Montana, and the whole theme is perfect.
It opens with Harley and Brix sitting on the cliffs in Rancho Palos Verdes. It’s just their silhouettes, shot from behind while the sun sets and paints the sky.
Harley turns and starts singing his song—Brix’s identity still a dark figure in the background—and even though the whole overarching theme is that love is love, it really is Harley’s song. He’s owning who he is for the first time in his life, and I couldn’t be prouder of him.
It moves on to Mason and Denver having a food fight, laughing and being … them.
The song has a very chill vibe and actually reminds me a lot of Ed Sheeran’s “Afterglow.” It takes me back to the night in Montana where Jordan and I were in the hot tub and the guys were teasing us.
It evokes how much I wanted him then, how much I want him now, and how my feelings have grown in between.
“It’s a perfect song,” I murmur.
“Thanks,” Harley says. “I’m paying an editing team an exorbitant amount to finish this off so we can drop it online as soon as it’s ready. We just need to get some group videos of us all singing the chorus and then your stuff with your model.” He nods toward a scantily clad male model in the corner. “Unless …” He looks at Jordan. “You wanted to do it with him? We could block out your identity like Brix if you want.”
When Harley pitched this idea, we were still very much having to keep us a secret. Now it’s not so much an issue.
“Sounds fun,” Jordan says, “but I don’t think you can afford me.”
I lower my voice. “I’ll pay you later.”
“I’m in. Send the pretty boy home.” This comes out with a practical growl, and I love it.
It’s a long-ass night, and coming off a thirteen-hour day on set, we’re both exhausted by the time it’s all done and we’re sent home to sleep.
My promise to pay him for being in a sappy love song music video will have to come later because the minute we step into Jordan’s bedroom, we both crash out.
And Harley, the fucking magician—that sleep-deprived, workaholic magician—has the surprise release out into the world before we even wake by midday.
“You’re famous!” Jordan says and shoves his phone in my face. He kneels next to the bed in only his boxer briefs, and as amazing as that sight is, I get stuck on his words.
“If you’re only now realizing how famous I am, I’m really sorry to tell you that you fit the brainless-model stereotype.”
Jordan ignores my snark. “Holy shit, this is everywhere.”
“Eleven getting back together is huge news.”
“It’s not only that. The video already has ten million views, and it’s only been up for a couple of hours. That has to be some kind of record.” He taps away on his phone and quickly deflates. “Oh. Okay, no it’s not. But it’s still amazing. Just don’t read the comments.”