"Hey, did we get confirmation about that production team yet?" Mariluz asks from behind her laptop screen.

"Nothing yet," I answer with a sigh as I refresh my inbox for the hundredth time.

We're cutting it dangerously close now. It's been a month since our conversation with Chris and Rigo regarding their sexualities, and everything's been moving at lightning speed since then. We returned to the office at the end of that week to work collaboratively on the script with our team so the three of us could handle the more administrative things, like hiring people who know what the hell they're doing.

We quickly learned that finding people for a production of this scale—and with such a short timeframe to make it happen—is not easy work. Nor is it cheap, but that's for our sponsor to deal with.

Alex did finally reveal the name of our sponsor, too: ChromaVision. They're a new queer-centric streaming service with the funds of a much larger film corporation backing them up, so they can give us whatever we need to make this happen much faster than would be typical.

I've been fighting to secure the right production team for weeks now, and I think I've finally convinced them. I just need the confirmation I've been watching my email vigilantly for. Filming is slated to begin mid-April, and that's just three weeks out. If they tell me no, I don't know how on Earth we'll find another quality production team to cover us.

Too stressed out about the email to focus on work right now, I pull out my phone to check my messages. There are two: one from Jazmin and one from my mom. My stomach sinks at the sight of both; out of guilt for my continued betrayal of Xavi, and because I just don't want to hear from my mom right now. With a sigh, I open Jazmin's message first.

(ALT TEXT: Hey Lolita *blush emoji*)

I debate whether to respond for a good five minutes, but there's no point because I know I will in the end. Although right as I start typing, the image of Xavi glancing at my phone at exactly the wrong moment to see a flirty text from Jazmin sends a fearful shiver down my spine, and I freeze.

Maybe I should discourage the flirty texts...

It's been a month of sneaking around every weekend whenever we can get a moment away from Xavi, and it's been incredible, but Xavi not knowing is the most important factor. I sigh with resignation as I switch over to my mom's message, making a mental note to talk with Jazmin this weekend about a little less contact until I find the guts to settle things with her brother.

(ALT TEXT: Hi Lola, it's Mom. Checking in on the baby and the wedding. Please call me!)

Checking in on the baby and the wedding as usual. Those are the only things about my life that interest her. They're the only things about my life that have ever interested her. I don't want to give her the satisfaction of a response, but I know she'll bombard me with calls if I don't get back to her quick enough. I quickly type up a vague response about still planning things and the baby getting bigger. At just thirteen weeks in my pregnancy, I thankfully have nothing else to tell her yet.

The chime of an incoming email alerts all three of us at my desk, and I'm frozen for a second before dropping my phone back into the drawer and waking up my monitor. Kyle and Mariluz watch anxiously as I navigate to my inbox and look for the new message at the top. My breath catches when I see it: she responded!

"It's Monica," I confirm excitedly as I read.

"Are they in?" Kyle presses impatiently.

"Shh! Let her read!" Mariluz chastises him.

I can't keep the smile off my face as I take it in, and I can see both Mariluz and Kyle getting giddier by the second in my peripherals. "They're in," I announce. "She moved things around so she and her team will be on set with us!"

"Yes!" Kyle shrieks as he jumps up from his seat. "This is huge! They're gonna love us for this!"

My anxiety from all morning seems to evaporate as I think about how happy Chris will be with this. Monica Andrews is a big name in drama production, and I knew the moment I found her resume that this project had to have her. She'll turn this series into the success we're aiming for with the snap of her fingers, and that's exactly what I need with Chris putting his trust in me.

"Good work, Lola," Mariluz says with an earnest smile.

My lips curve up into a goofy grin as excitement bubbles up again. "Thanks, Mariluz."

"This for sure calls for celebratory tacos," Kyle declares as he plops back into his chair, looking happily between Mariluz and me. "Lunch tomorrow?"

Mariluz nods. "My treat."

Kyle clicks his tongue as he waves his hand dismissively at her. "Girl, you treat us so well," he snickers.

"You're paying next time," she responds easily as she looks back at her computer.

Kyle's expression drops and his eyes narrow. "I take it back."

With no more chatter, the three of us quietly return to our tasks for the last two hours of our workday. Things between us have improved a bit since returning to the office, but it's still not back to normal. We share my desk, eat lunch together, and even crack a few jokes as usual, but it stops there. We don't talk outside of work now, and we don't ask about each other's lives anymore. It sucks, but it's an improvement from when Xavi and I first got engaged. The overly-optimistic part of me still hopes we can recover the close friendship we once had.

That'll never happen.

Just as quickly as my mood soared, it sours. I've been up and down a lot like this lately, but mostly down. The easiest way I've found to deal with it is to just go numb; ignore my feelings and focus on my work, so that's exactly what I do until five o'clock.

I exchange half-hearted goodbyes with Kyle and Mariluz then lag behind them as I pack up. I've been driving Xavi's Camaro into work every day, and I feel strange when my coworkers watch me get into it. Everything about my new life feels so strange.

The strangest part has to be living in a mansion that belongs to my literal idol, who treats me like a friend. I've seen parts of his life other fans could only dream of seeing: his incredible parenting of twin toddlers and a "full-grown" nine-year-old, the little melodies he hums as he moves around the house that will eventually become my favorite songs, and the grins and stolen glances at Rigo that tell me every loving lyric is about him. I thought it would all feel normal by now, especially with how welcoming he's been, but it just doesn't. I still feel so out-of-place because the reason I'm there is all a lie.

Even so, I still haven't been able to end it with Xavi. Jazmin hasn't been pushy thankfully, but I know it has to be soon. It's just that the way he smiles at me, with his sage green eyes glistening full of love that I can't reciprocate... it's paralyzing. My heart flutters at it, at his kisses, and at his touch as if he were an actual option. I've been using morning sickness as an excuse to keep us celibate since my weekend sneaking in Tijuana with Jazmin began, but that will only work for so long.

To make it all even more confusing, ever since discussing sexualities with Rigo, there's been a gnawing doubt in the back of my mind every time I pull away from Xavi: what if I'm wrong? Chris and Rigo were both wrong, and for years. Even after meeting and falling in love, you'd have been hard-pressed to get either to admit it sober. What if I'm just in denial, like they were?

The thought keeps bouncing around my head as I park the car and head inside. My stomach tightens with anxiety as I walk in, as if I'm not supposed to be there. I can hear the distant giggles and squeals of the toddlers in the living room, so I know Chris and Rigo are likely too preoccupied with them to have noticed my entrance. I'm hopeful that I can quickly escape upstairs until Chente—the family's black Shiba Inu, named after legendary mariachi Vicente Fernández—struts into the foyer to greet me.

He's ten years old and oddly independent for a dog—so much so that I didn't even know they had him until I started living here. Chris says that started after the twins were born. They're a bit too much for him in his golden years.

I reach down slowly and give him a scratch on the head, praying in my mind that he won't make a sound to alert anyone I'm home. He gives my hand a lick and wanders forward, appearing distracted just as quickly as he'd noticed me. I slowly straighten out and tiptoe toward the stairs, keeping my eyes on him until my foot hits the first step and I take off.

I head straight for Xavi's room, since it's my room now too. I look around for him as I kick off my shoes and drop my bag with a heavy sigh, but I don't see him. He must have gone out in one of Rigo's many cars kept in the garage, because the Escalade is in its usual spot outside.

The bed calls to me seductively as I slip out of my jeans. It feels like I haven't had a decent night's rest in ages, and my eyelids are already heavy with exhaustion. It's tempting to dive right into the pillowy comforter as I am, but I pull open the drawer I've been using anyway and rummage for a soft pair of pajama pants.

"Hey Lolita," Xavi's voice croons softly at the same time the door opens.

My heart drops and I can feel the heat pool in my cheeks immediately as I pivot to face him with a pair of pants in my hands. Of course he'd walk in on me the day I grabbed the only thong I own to wear. Of course.

His lips curve into a smirk as his gaze lifts from admiring my bare ass. "How was work?"

"It was fine. I didn't realize you were home," I admit sheepishly, gripping the fabric of the pants tight as I raise them just a little.

"I was just working in the studio," he explains, nodding his head toward the door. "But what about you? Feeling any better today?"

Every day he asks me hopefully, and every day I tell him "no." His arms feel like exactly what I need as they slide around my waist and pull me close, though. That nagging doubt in the back of my mind screams loud as he watches me patiently with an adorable little grin.

What if I'm wrong? What if...

"I'm feeling better today," I tell him softly, but decisively. Desire blazes through his eyes in an instant, but I continue coolly. "How was your day?"

"It was good," he answers, placing a kiss on my forehead. "Better now, though."

He trails more kisses softly along my cheek, slowly making his way to my lips as my body heats up under his touch. I lean into him as our tongues meet, my mind catching fire with that panic that always makes me want to pull away.

What if...

I don't pull away this time. Instead, I give into the fire that's been driving me toward Xavi and kiss him hard, running my fingers through his soft curls as he lifts me up and my legs wrap around his waist. His kisses are different than Jazmin's; so much more demanding and yet mouthwateringly sweet. My legs grip him tighter as a desperate need flares between my thighs and I grind directly against his bulge.

He walks me back to the dresser, slipping his thumbs into the waistband of my thong and inching it down with each step until it's resting on my thighs. The cold surface greets me with goosebumps as he sets me down and finishes yanking off my thong. Our eyes meet as his lips begin a slow trail up my leg.

"What do you want me to do?" he murmurs against my skin.

My eyes can barely focus on him in all my nervousness. This feels so wrong and so right at the same time; actively fighting the urge to push him away while I ache for him. I can't even pin down exactly what I want from him in all the chaos.

What if...

"I want you to fuck me," I whisper, watching the excitement build in his eyes. "Hard."

No imagination this time. No Jazmin. Just Xavi and me, with all our unquenched lust for each other, to put my doubts to rest once and for all.

He pulls my shirt over my head as he stands and I go right for his zipper, tugging it open haphazardly through nervous trembles while he fights with the clasp of my bra. I let it slide off my arms as his shirt hits the floor before I finish removing his pants and boxers, then his dick is in my hand as if I've got any idea what I'm doing with it. I really should have paid more attention when Kyle divulged his sex secrets, but there's no going back now.

With an equally firm and gentle grip, my hand slides slowly down Xavi's length and back up, his dick pulsating with need under my fingers. His breath gets ragged the more I stroke him, soft moans slipping out occasionally as he struggles to hold back. I don't want him to hold back, though. Suddenly, making him come is the absolute hottest thing I can think of. My grip tightens and I stroke faster until his hands drop hard onto the dresser and he crushes his mouth back to mine.

"God damn," he pants against my lips. "You are definitely getting fucked hard."

I nod once, my nose brushing his. "Please," I whisper.

His fingers run through my hair and grab a fistful as he hikes up my leg and pushes his hips against me, sliding on my clit with maddening ease thanks to how turned on I already am. The sensation takes me to the edge quickly—too quickly—so I hurriedly guide him into me on his next thrust as his fingertips dig into my thigh.

It's not the first time we've had sex, and yet it feels like it is. Buried in my fantasies all those other times, I never noticed the incredible heat emanating from him inside me, nor the unmistakable love mixed with craving in his eyes as he watches me. It ignites something inside of me, a yearning as deep as his that urges me to throw my arms around him and kiss him like my life depends on it, so I do. I'm completely swept up in the passion, moaning into his kisses as I buck against each of his thrusts with increasing speed.

He rips my head back by my hair as I cry out in a mixture of pain and pleasure, kissing and nipping his way down my neck and chest until reaching my pregnancy-swollen breasts. The tip of his tongue swirls around my nipple and his lips close around it, sucking gently before giving the other one the same treatment. His hips slow as he focuses on covering me in kisses, driving me absolutely mad with need.

"Harder, Xavi," I beg him through desperate whimpers.

"You want it hard?" he teases, smiling against my skin as he kisses his way back up.

"Yes!" I whine, writhing on him. "Please, Daddy!"

The word rolls off my tongue without thought, but it feels right immediately. It hangs in the air between us for a beat, Xavi's eyes widening as they get hungrier, before he yanks me forward and flips me over.

I throw my arms out to catch myself on the dresser, and my feet land on the floor right as Xavi's dick rams back into me with enough force to knock the air out of my lungs. My fingers wrap along the back edge of the dresser, knocking over another cologne bottle with every thrust as my knees threaten to give out. As his moans grow louder and more frequent, his hand slides down between my legs to ensure I finish with him.

He rubs my clit in slippery circles while planting kisses along the top of my back, and it takes him less than a minute to bring me back to that climactic edge. I brace myself for the incoming orgasm, already feeling like it just might do me in. Then he takes another fistful of my hair with his free hand and pulls, and I know it's all over.

Every muscle in my body seems to contract as I come, squeezing around him so hard it's almost painful. I gasp between moans as my knees and elbows turn to jelly when the orgasm keeps going, prolonged by his continued thrusts and increasingly frequent moans. The same moans turned me off just over a month ago, and now they're turning me into a waterfall of arousal.

He shudders as his hips slow, leaning over to wrap his arms around me and kiss my neck while I struggle to recompose myself in the wake of the best orgasm I've ever had. My thoughts are muddled at first, but the whole point of this experiment quickly finds its way back to the forefront.

It doesn't make an ounce of sense to me, but I can't deny it anymore. I was wrong. I'm in love with Xavi Reyes.