Apart from looks, our personalities were nothing alike. I talked too much and tended to say things without thinking. Asher overthought everything. I was bubbly and spontaneous; he was more serious and reserved. I took risks; he didn’t. He liked girls; I liked boys. I was book smart and computer smart; he was street smart and money smart. Our balance had worked well growing up. We moved in different circles, but we’d always had each other’s backs no matter what.

“Atti, spit it out. Stop staring at me.”

“Okay.”

I shuffled upright and pulled my backpack onto my lap. Digging through, I found my iPad and pulled up the Kindle app, scrolling until the book I’d bought last week was on full display. I’d read it cover to cover. Twice. And I might have jacked off to multiple parts, multiple times, but no one needed to know about that. This woman wrote some seriously hot shit.

I handed the iPad to Asher. “Have you ever heard of this author?”

He squirmed when he saw the two men on the cover, arms around each other, naked torsos crushed together. The one model was nibbling the other’s scruffy chin while the second looked to be midmoan. It was all kinds of hot and kinky.

Asher shoved the iPad back. “No. Why? What the fuck are you reading? Is that porn?”

“It’s gay erotica.”

“That’s nice. Why are you sharing your wack material with me? Dude, I love you, but—” He shuddered and waved a hand at the cover image like I should know how it made him feel.

“Charlotte Jones is a huge, New York Times best-selling author. She writes gay romance and gay erotica and sells millions of copies of her books. She’s crazy popular … apparently.” I hadn’t heard of her until last week, but hey, I recognized her merit.

Asher’s face was all contorted and weird. “And?”

I licked my lips and turned off my iPad. Finding my phone in my pocket, I looked up the advertisement I’d responded to. I didn’t hand it to him right away but sat straighter, bracing and preparing for a potential right hook.

“So, about a week ago, I was searching the net, looking for better work. I’m drowning. I don’t want to quit school. No one will give me a loan, and I hate the gas station. Anyhow, in my searches, I came across an ad on this woman’s website. She’s announced a new series she’s planning for this coming year and is looking for specific models to be featured on six planned books and to make trailers to help sell them. They’re like movie trailers but for books.”

Asher’s face brightened. “Wait. So you applied to be a model for her book covers? Holy shit. Dude, that’s freaking cool as hell.”