Fuck, this is a house.
An expensive house.
I check the address on my phone three times, but there isn't a doubt in my mind.
Mal doesn't get details wrong.
This big, beautiful blue house must be his place. His parents' place, I guess. But the only car in the driveway is his black sedan.
It's curious.
Mal is the kind of guy who does exactly what he wants.
And gets exactly what he wants.
He must want to live with his parents.
But why?
Ahem. I'm here as a director first and a potential sexual partner second. I can't think about Mal like this until we have the video right. Or at least on the way to right.
I focus on thoughts of music videos and footage as I grab my bags and step out of the car.
The sun is already bright, but the beach breeze keeps the weather temperate. It's beautiful here. The sky is a brilliant blue. The air smells of salt. A few blocks away, the waves crash into the beach with a quiet roar.
It takes far too long for me to cross the street and walk the steps to Mal's place.
Somehow, I knock on the door.
My heartbeat picks up.
My breath hitches.
It's no big deal being alone with Mal. In his house. Steps from his bedroom.
This is work.
Not at all a big deal.
Footsteps move closer. "Hey."
That's his deep, steady voice. God, his voice is sexy. All he has to say is hey and my knees are threatening to crumble.
"Hey. It's me." I hug my camera bag. Am I me to Mal? We only barely know each other, but then I don't think many people show up at his house.
I miss being a me. I want to be someone's me…
Maybe not Mal's, but somebody's. One day…
Not yet.
Everything with Adam is still too fresh.
Mal pulls the door open and motions come in.
There's Mal, standing in the frame, his jeans slung low around his hips, his t-shirt snug around his shoulders.
His piercing blue eyes fix on mine.