“Are you a model?”

And just like that, Aubrey’s peaceful night was ruined. By a greasy, middle-aged-in-crisis man in an oversized three-piece suit. He had thick gray roots nesting like a crown in his dyed black hair and a rattail snaking around his neck. Aubrey cast him the largest side-eye, enhancing his natural RBF. 

How did this man get past the guards, let alone carry an invite to this black-tie event? 

“No,” Aubrey said flatly. 

That one word was powerful enough to be a sentence on its own. 

Unfortunately, it encouraged the greasy fucker to continue instead of walking away. 

“Oh, you’re a feisty little thing, aren’t you? And a little on the flat side, I must say. Skinny chic is still the rage though. I’m an agent. I have a good eye for what’s in. The name’s Rex.” 

Again, how? Aubrey was at a loss. 

He also had to tell himself that this was neither the time nor place for his legendary temper. He was at an important function in one of the most luxurious mansions in The Hills. His best friend, Wesley, had just signed an exclusive modeling contract, and the mansion belonged to the famous French designer of House Genevieve, Vanille Grosvenor. 

Aubrey shot fashion editorials that featured her pieces. He was a guest, and quite liked his anonymity. As marveled and dazzled as he was by the stars and the Parisian beauty herself, Aubrey was less than impressed by the social and cognitive dissonance when dealing with the filthy rich. 

And Rex didn’t strike Aubrey as a part of said group. He was a greasy little rat trying to get an in. 

“I’m not interested,” Aubrey said firmly, deepening his voice. 

“You’re such a beautiful woman. I can take you to places. Just hear me out.” 

Aubrey had been restraining himself until now. He was aware of how much his face and voice did not match. He’d grown up dealing with being called “too pretty” for a boy or that he was born with the wrong parts. It constantly baffled and disappointed Aubrey the audacity people had and their inability to mind their own fucking business. 

“Sir,” Aubrey said through gritted teeth. “I am going to say this one more time.” He paused to take a breath, turning away from the fantastic view of the city lights to look directly at Rex, who smelled strongly of cheap cologne and dirty wet socks. “No means no, and I am not interested in what—“ 

The words stopped when a familiar figure stepped into view. They moved quickly and quietly enough to go unnoticed and towered over the fucker from behind. Aubrey’s jaw went slack and his rising temper fizzled out.  

Aubrey stood at the average height of five-seven. He spent so long around models to know that five-seven translated to short. Rex, the slimy cretin who just solicited him, was even shorter than Aubrey. 

Aubrey had to crane his neck to look at Vanille’s younger brother and elite model, Sabien. 

Rex had no clue about the looming presence behind him as he tried to sell his points further. Aubrey heard nothing but gibberish as he took in the powerful and striking presence of the French model who’d graced countless magazines and billboards. Broad shoulders stretched out the black turtleneck. A gold, single-linked Cuban chain hung from his thick neck. His unblemished skin was pale like moonlight with a faint pink hue across his sculpted cheeks. His eyes were cold and piercing — a storming arctic blue that startled and intrigued Aubrey at the same time. His hair was a combination of blond and white, styled in an undercut that emphasized the length on top.

Sabien was his sister’s muse like he was for many other designers. Aubrey knew, with a quiet and fierce longing, how Sabien’s visual could sell practically anything. 

And fuck, he was hot. On top of that, beautiful to a vexing degree. 

“Is there a problem?” Sabien asked, not so much looking at Rex. Sabien’s voice was an illicit purr. Deep and rich. He sounds like sex, Aubrey thought with an inward shiver and curl to his toes. 

Aubrey shook his head. He worked with plenty of models, including his best friend, Wesley. None of them made him feel so small or this turned on. 

“Good,” Sabien said, shifting his icy gaze to Rex. “You should go back inside, sir. Security would love to be acquainted with a respectable man like yourself.” 

Rex looked like he was ready to argue. Until he realized how much more trouble he’d be in if he did. Casting a nervous glance at Sabien, Rex nodded and mumbled about an appointment. He walked off, leaving Aubrey and Sabien at the balustrade. 

Aubrey’s heart wanted to jump up his throat. He tried to be calm, and fall back into his RBF — but this was Sabien. The Sabien. And Aubrey had been crushing on him for like ever. 

Aubrey was still surprised to see how little Sabien had aged after all these years, as if time wasn’t even a factor in his extravagant life. Aubrey was thirty-four now, and he felt it. Sabien looked the same as he did a decade ago when Aubrey was just coming up and shooting Sabien for the first time. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” Aubrey said, tucking a long strand of black hair behind his ear. “I would’ve been fine.” 

Sabien raised an eyebrow as he shifted his weight to one side. Aubrey noticed the enticing veins on the back of Sabien’s hands before they disappeared into the pockets of gray plaid pants. God, his clothes were tailored immaculately, accentuating his wide chest and tight waist. 

Aubrey’s thoughts lingered on the veins. Sabien had the kind of hands that made Aubrey wonder how they’d look when squeezing something. He gulped.  

“I doubted that.” Sabien said with a slight, knowing curl to his lips, “You would’ve been royally upset with breaking your nails from a good beat down.” 

Aubrey huffed, “No one likes a broken nail. It’s a bitch to deal with.” Flushed, Aubrey turned away to hide his embarrassment.

Sabien chuckled, his voice sounding warmer as he murmured, “Bree, it’s good to see you again.” 

A jolt of heat tightened the sensitive muscles below Aubrey’s waist. He shifted uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact. Both of his hands were on the balustrade for balance. Sabien made his knees weak, and to his dismay, his cock responded to the rush of blood surging downward. He was grateful for the shadows and his decision to wear black tonight. 

“You too,” Aubrey said after a cough. “You look… good.” 

“So do you.” 

The air suddenly felt tighter in his lungs when Sabien joined him to take in the view. Aubrey was aware of everything about the model. He had an intoxicating effect wherever he went, drawing everyone in like moths to a burning flame. Aubrey wasn’t immune. He felt his body’s physical reaction as he caught a whiff of Sabien’s cologne. Mint and freesias, with a hint of sage. It was perfectly fitting for a man with such a frosty demeanor.

Aubrey coughed again and cleared his throat. “Thanks.” The blush warmed his face, and an overwhelming lust hit him. He used to have long nights thinking and dreaming about Sabien. He believed he finally let go of his unrequited crush, and he was certain Sabien had forgotten about him. 

Aubrey was pleasantly surprised that the nickname stayed. Wesley called him Bree, and so did their moms. Sabien using that moniker made his heart ache.  

“How have you been, Bree?” 

He glanced at Sabien. Immediately, his breath was taken away by the moonlight hitting Sabien’s profile. 

“I’ve been all right. Shot a few good gigs here and there.” 

“I’ve seen your work on Wesley’s last campaign. Amazing stuff.” 

Aubrey’s blush deepened. He didn’t think Sabien even had the time to read the tiny credits at the bottom of each picture in a spread.  

“Thank you.” He said awkwardly. However, his heart skipped. Sabien noticed his work? He was internally swooping with joy.  

“You guys are still rooming together?” 

“We do,” Aubrey said, equally surprised that Sabien remembered that detail, “We share a loft downtown now.” He suddenly had an odd feeling as their conversation progressed. Was it in his head that he caught the slight tone in Sabien’s voice?

“Wow, after all these years. You’re practically inseparable.” 

“We’re like brothers,” Aubrey said quickly, feeling that strange urge to assure Sabien that nothing more was present. “We go way back to third grade. Our moms are best friends, and we never saw each other like that. Sure, he’s good-looking, but I’ll throw up if we kiss or anything more.” Aubrey shuddered. He was sure the feeling was mutual. Wesley and Aubrey were close, and that was perfectly fine. People were allowed platonic soulmates when the rest of the world sucked.

“Right,” Sabien said after a pregnant pause. 

“What about you? What has the ‘moneymaker’ been doing all this time?” Aubrey did the air quotes. He grinned as Sabien sighed loudly. 

“Ugh, don’t ever… call me that again.” Sabien groaned, “And I’ve been on vacation. It’s nice to get away for a while.” 

“Oh,” Aubrey said, and silence befell them. 

So many things were racing through Aubrey’s head. For one, he couldn’t believe this was happening. Should he collect proof by asking for a photograph? No, he wasn’t like that. He didn’t even post photos of himself on his socials. He’d love to have one of just the two of them as a keepsake. It might be too weird to ask out of the blue. Sabien was probably annoyed by strangers asking for selfies and pictures all the time. Aubrey didn’t want to be like them. 

Aubrey had an inkling that his feelings weren’t exactly hard to notice. Even Wesley, his big beautiful himbo of a best friend, knew about this long-term crush. He had clocked Aubrey’s attraction toward Sabien seconds after that shoot ended.