Fresh Start: A Small Town Gay Romance (Cedarwood Beach Book 1) by Everly Rhys

Author:Everly, Rhys [Everly, Rhys]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Rhys Writes Romance
Published: 2020-02-28T16:00:00+00:00

Twelve

Leo

I couldn't believe how quickly the tables had turned between Dawson and me. Only hours ago, I’d been angry and frustrated, and now, we were all loved up in bed reliving the past. Revealing to each other what we’d been through had been the saddest and sweetest moment of the night. We had another round of sex, this one more tender than the previous ones. And that's how the night went on. A little bit of sleep, a little bit of talk, a little bit of sex.

Come next morning, I felt like I knew Dawson inside out again. It was as if the last seventeen years of our lives had been erased and we were starting with a clean slate. I’d also realized that Dawson's fame and stardom had come at a price. It frustrated me, what Dawson had been through and that I hadn't been there for him. But how could I have known?

During one of my dreams, I relived the events of our showcase night, back in the third year of college. I still forgot my lines, frozen in the spotlight. Then Dawson came to my rescue and had recited some of my lines, trying to get me back to speed. But I went blank under the pressure of so many professionals among the audience. Before I knew it, the performance was over, and everyone wanted Dawson. No one wanted me. Thankfully, an agent asked to see me again, this time privately. Dawson was so apologetic, he decided to come with me for moral support. I was still upset with him, but he was still my boyfriend, and it wasn’t his fault I blanked out and everyone loved him.

But in my dream, Dawson never went into the agent’s office when I went to the restroom. He never talked with the agent and never took his offer. Instead, the agent picked me. And he flew me off to Hollywood, getting me cast in the biggest hits, and using me at night, demanding gratitude by force. My dream skipped forward a few years, and by the time I was thirty, I was a washed-up actor who had no confidence in myself and whose career had gone down the drain, far too lost in drugs and alcohol to salvage.

I woke up breathless, and as my eyes adjusted to the dark, they streamed with tears from what I’d experienced, even if none of it had been true. Not for me, anyway.

After a few deep breaths and a trip to the bathroom, I lay down and watched Dawson sleep. The more I watched him, so beautiful and tranquil in his sleep, the less I hated him.

Not that I had ever truly hated him. I knew it was me who fucked up my lines all those years back. It wasn't Dawson's fault I’d blanked, and it wasn't Dawson's fault that no agent had been interested in me. And I couldn't really stay mad at Dawson for getting signed by the one agent that had also been interested in me.

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