Hat Trick (Fake Boyfriend 5)

I’d hold on to Soren’s story to keep me humble.

Soren finally composed himself and stood tall. “Buy me a drink? No way. If anything, I owe you several drinks. You … you changed my life.”

Pride was quickly replaced with the crushing weight of pressure. Ever since signing with Joystar Records, I had a bad feeling the creative side of me was going to get squashed by the label.

They wanted to change the band’s name, my name, and our eclectic sound.

Knowing someone out there loved “He’s Mine” enough to change their life and come out publicly, I was terrified I’d never write anything that would live up to it. Especially with the record company already trying to put me in a box.

I wanted to savor this moment and turn it into one of those memories I’d think about until the day I died. It was the first time I had a fan tell me my words truly meant something.

We were about to wade our way through the giant crowd again when I stopped short.

“Soren …” The guys had been calling him that, but it occurred to me that it might’ve only been a bro thing to do like athletes did. “Uh … Caleb?” I tugged on his arm.

He shuddered. “No, Soren’s good. Everyone calls me Soren.” He must’ve seen something in my eyes because concern etched into his gorgeous face. “What’s wrong?”

I shook my head. “How about we don’t drink at all?”

Soren’s brow scrunched as if he didn’t understand, but that cleared the second I stepped forward and pressed my body against his.

“Wanna get out of here?” I asked.

His hesitance was evident. “You’re, like, this rock god, and I’m—”

“A hockey god. We should stick together, no?” The notion I was a god of anything was unrealistically awesome. Even if I acted like I believed it sometimes, hearing it from someone else was surreal.

Soren’s tongue darted out and ran along his lips. They were shiny with spit and so tempting, but the hesitance on his face hadn’t wavered.

“Want the truth?” I asked and didn’t give him time to respond. “I’m a struggling musician who can’t even keep cool about someone liking one of my songs.”

“Loving one of your songs,” he corrected. “I tried to find more online but couldn’t.”

We were still pressed against each other in the seedy corridor between the bathrooms and the noise of the club.

“Take me home?” I asked again.

“Fuck, yes.” Soren’s voice was croaky, and my body responded just as it had earlier.

Benji had a beautiful voice. He totally could’ve taken over lead vocals if he wanted to, but he didn’t. Yet, his raspy voice never had my cock at full attention or my hands wanting to explore all of him like Soren’s did.

“Where do you live?” I asked.

“Jersey.”

“Hmm, too far,” I murmured. “Bathroom?” My hand ran down his chest as I leaned in and kissed the side of his neck.

Soren moaned. “You’re better than a fuck in a bathroom stall.”

Hmm, debatable.

“There’s a hotel down the block.”

I stepped back and pulled him off the wall. “Sold.”

We held hands the entire way to the upscale hotel, and I ignored the way it lit a fire in my gut. I didn’t know holding someone’s hand could turn me on so much.

The lobby was marble-tiled and dimly lit, giving it that elegance only expensive places had. The people behind the desk looked at me as if I were some by-the-hour rent boy, or maybe I was reading into it because that was kinda how I felt.

It wasn’t the first time a random guy had taken me home, but it was the first time I’d felt out of place and nervous about it.

Soren wasn’t like any of those other guys. Actually, he wasn’t my type at all. I didn’t do the jock thing.

Yet, there was no denying Soren did it for me.

My expectations were low, though. One disappointing sexual encounter after the next made it hard to get excited about things.

Oh, I’d brag and be a douche about my exploits, but really, they left me hollow inside. I was always putting on a show, being someone else—even to those closest to me.

When Soren took my hand again and led me to the elevators, there was no denying the flare of arousal.

We hadn’t even reached our floor when Soren backed me up and pushed me against the side of the elevator.

The quip about liking it rough made it to the tip of my tongue before I swallowed it back down.

Soren’s eyes were hypnotic as they roamed over me from my face, down my body, and then back up again.

It wasn’t in the way a million other guys had done it before.

This was hot. It made me feel appreciated and worshiped instead of cheap and trashy.

Stuck in his gaze, I was taken off guard when he lowered his head.