More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
Do you believe in hate at first sight? Neither did I, until Niko fucking Adamos strides into Studio 1 like he owns the goddamn place.
He looks like a modern day Greek god, and I hate him instantly.
The fact that we’re hanging lights and standing near a tree and pretending that we’re boyfriends. It’s messing with me. It’s making me want things I can’t have. It’s making me wish this were real, that this is how my holidays could be.
It doesn’t have anything to do with Niko. It’s just the circumstances. Except, as he gently pulls back, looking into my eyes with a softness that feels painfully genuine, I realize I don’t believe myself. These scenes we’ve been playing, this boyfriend act, it doesn’t feel like an act at all.
In these moments, under these cameras, it feels real. It feels like Niko is mine, and h...
This highlight has been truncated due to consecutive passage length restrictions.
We’re halfway done with our arc together, and after that final camera stops rolling in a week and a half, I’ll have to face the fact that Niko fucking Adamos isn’t mine to keep.
I let the soft sounds of his breathing lull me to sleep, and when I wake up cold sometime later, I settle myself against Dixon’s broad, warm chest, and his arms wrap around me like a vice.
“Niki, why the hell are we spinning clay? Is there something about me…something about my person…that screams pottery lover to you? Because if so, please tell me so I can remove it.”
“Okay, so, looks like we get the clay wet and just…spin the thing,” Niko says, frowning down at the instructions. “Have at it, Michelangelo.”
“Are you loving it?” Niko asks, kind of ruining the moment, but kind of not. “No, this is horrible,” I say softly. Niko hums. “I’m loving it.”
“I Ghost-ed him,” I say. “That…doesn’t even make sense. Like, you played hard to get?” “No,” I say, laughing. “Like the movie, Ghost.” “Oh, my God,” Kipp breathes out in excitement. “You pottery-wooed him.”
“I liked what you said,” I tell him after a minute. “Which thing?” “When you implied I’m yours.” “Well, you are, aren’t you?” Dixon asks, making me laugh.
There’s a pause, and then quietly, Dixon says, “I don’t think I was ever acting with you, Niki.”
I haven’t been serious about much in my life, but I’m serious about Dixon.



































