Catch My Breath by M. J. O’Shea Read Free Book Online Page B

“Reece and his massive anaconda.”
    Elliot blinked at him. “What? Ew.”
    Danny grinned and shook his head. “Never mind. You gonna take a shower after Reece? I’m getting hungry.”
    “I’m pretty much always hungry. But I need to get ready. There are cameras out there.” Elliot waved at himself.
    “It’s cool.” Danny walked over to his own bed, which was directly across from Elliot’s, and flopped down on top of it. “I’ll wait for you. Probably should call Katie anyway.” He didn’t want to look like he was reluctant to talk to his girlfriend. But he was.
     
     
    W HEN Elliot finally got into the bathroom, he took his time showering. He tried to tell himself it was because he was nervous. Truth was, he didn’t want to hear Danny talking to his girlfriend. Little couple moments, I love yous, that kind of stuff made her more real. And as much as Elliot hated himself for it, he wished Katie didn’t exist. As long as he didn’t have to hear Danny with her, he could pretend she didn’t.
    When Elliot got back into the room, showered and changed, Danny was standing at the window, gazing out at something Elliot couldn’t see, his phone in his hand at his side.
    “Everything okay?” Elliot asked.
    Danny turned and looked at him, his preoccupied expression easing into his familiar wild grin. “Yep. Fine. Just getting a little nervous, I guess.”
    Elliot returned the smile. “You’re so, like, confident. I didn’t think anything would scare you.”
    Danny shrugged, his shoulder lifting beneath the fabric of his expensive polo. “You’d be surprised.”
    “Did you get a hold of Katie? It’s still kind of early, isn’t it?”
    “Yeah, we talked for a minute.” Danny looked out the window again. “She never sleeps past seven. Morning person like me, I guess.”
    Elliot looked down at the carpet and scuffed it with his foot, trying hard not to hate that Danny knew when and how Katie woke up in the morning. Don’t be an asshole.
    “Cool,” he forced himself to say. “Want to go grab some breakfast? I think better on a full stomach.”
    Danny chuckled softly and shoved his phone into the drawer by his bed. “I think we all do. Come on. Let’s go see what the other guys are doing.”
     
     
    T HE five of them got downstairs to find that breakfast had been set up buffet-style on a long sideboard against the wall in the dining room. Elliot got in line between Reece and Danny and watched, horrified, as Reece piled his plate high with scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, toast, and even some biscuits and gravy.
    “How can you eat all that?” Elliot asked. He’d been hungry in his room, but the moment he’d stepped out of it, a thick ball of tension had started forming in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t think he could eat much more than a piece of toast and some fruit.
    Reece shrugged and chomped into one of his sausage links. “I get extra hungry when I’m nervous,” he said around a mouthful of food.
    “You’re extra hungry all the time,” Webb muttered. Reece elbowed him in the side.
    “Jerk.”
    “Douche.”
    “ Guys ….” Tate glanced significantly toward the camera.
    Elliot shook his head and plopped a croissant and two slices of cantaloupe onto his own plate. He looked up, the tension in his stomach mounting when the door to the kitchen swung open. He expected to see the director and maybe a few cameramen. Instead, an older woman walked into the room, holding a white carafe in one hand and a tray of big, gooey cinnamon rolls in the other. She smiled at them and set both items on the table instead of carrying them over to the sideboard.
    “Hey, boys,” she said. “I’m Josephine. Help yourself. These are fresh from the oven. And this is a pot of dark roast, but there’s decaf over on the sideboard if you prefer.”
    Elliot drew in a shaky breath and tried to collect himself enough to return her greeting. Luckily, the other guys jumped in, their introductions and compliments