Page 33 of Nothing Special X: The Last Stand

He stared out of the window at the passing city lights, as another thought hit.

He didn’t even know if Cassidy was gay.

The way Cassidy stared at him sometimes, and touched him, didn’t always feel professional either. He didn’t watch him with casual indifference the way straight men did other men.

No, Cassidy gazed at him for long moments at a time.

Since coming out publicly, Xander hadn’t shown interest in anybody despite his publicist begging him to start dating—preferably another actor.

It was better for optics, she said. Increased publicity. Bigger headlines.

His no had been firm.

He refused to turn his brand new, fragile personal life into a media circus show. For now, he was happy just being out. But late at night—in his empty house—he ate alone, watched television alone, and fell asleep the same way. It would be nice to lay his head on somebody’s chest and just…relax.

Xander stared at Cassidy’s card, brushing his thumb over the matte black cardstock.

He wished Cassidy had social media or something.

He wanted to see pictures of him outside of work. Vacation photos. Outings. Hobbies.

Instead he was a complete mystery, and somehow that made him even more attractive.

He knew Cassidy was older than him…much older probably.

But Xander didn’t think of himself as immature either, or he’d hate if Cassidy saw him as some vulnerable kid. He was a superstar even though he didn’t live like one.

His house was modest size, not a mansion hanging off the side of a cliff. He drove a Ford truck. Wore simple clothes. Never cared about gaudy jewelry or throwing champagne around at parties. He hated clubs and crowds and refused to pretend he didn’t.

But quiet and loneliness were starting to feel a bit too similar.

The SUV curved onto the rounded driveway leading toward his house.

The guards assigned to his property were sitting in the Adirondack chairs across his wraparound porch scrolling on their phones.

Not patrolling, or watching, just sitting there.

“What the hell…?” he muttered.

The truck stopped, and the guards got up, but instead of approaching his door, they walked toward the driver side.

“You relieving us?” one asked.

The driver shrugged. “Weren’t supposed to, but if you wanna go, I can stay. I need the extra hours.”

Xander blinked at them.

Were they serious?

Instead of focusing on guarding, they were acting like exhausted warehouse workers trading shifts.

A hollow feeling settled in his chest. None of them wanted this assignment. The studio had forced it on them. Now, he’d become a burden nobody wanted to bear.

Xander climbed out without saying anything and walked inside the house.

The moment the door shut behind him, he locked the knob and both bolts, then stood there in silence.

Maybe he needed real bodyguards, professional ones.