Chapter One

ELIO

"Fuck yeah, baby, just like that," groans the man on the screen in front of me.

His face is obscured, the angle focused on the play of muscles across his back, the gleam of sweat highlighting the definition. A sleeve of black linework tattoos decorates his left arm, the inked skin moving rhythmically with each thrust.

The husky timbre of his voice fills my cramped apartment, each calculated moan designed to entice, to promise, to seduce. Another deep, heavy groan rings out.

I pause the video, my eyes tracing over the digital version of myself. Everett Rain, as my subscribers know me. I recognize the same detached script, but every performance is new, and the game is always different.

A character created out of necessity. An alter ego living in the virtual world of AfterDark, a popular site for sex workers to post their content.

My fingers slowly move across the trackpad, slicing through the footage with clinical precision. It's a methodical process, trimming and discarding the unwanted parts. The missteps, the stumbles, the all too human moments.

The final product needs to be flawless. Passionate yet distant, intimate yet anonymous. The perfect fucking fantasy for my subscribers.

It's well past three o’clock in the morning here. My brain’s buzzing from hours of editing, each cut leaving a hollow echo in the silent room. The glow of the laptop screen is harsh against my tired eyes, transforming my familiar space into a landscape of long, distorted shadows.

The muffled snores of my dog, Bentley, an aging golden retriever, are a soft lullaby beside me. I glance at him, sprawled across his faded dog bed, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, and a pang of affection hits me.

Over the past year, Bentley’s become my silent companion, an unwitting participant in the chaos of my life.

He entered my world unexpectedly, a curveball thrown by my older sister. With a newly moved-in, allergic partner and a cramped apartment, she wasn’t able to care for him. And my older brother, Luca, already swamped with commitments, couldn’t take him in, either.

So, I did what I always do. I adapted. And now, Bentley’s wedged himself so deeply into my day-to-day life. He’s become more than just my little sidekick, he’s now my most loyal friend here at Coastal U.

"All right, boy, time for a break," I murmur, pushing away from the laptop. His tail thumps gently against the rug, the sound dragging me out of the digital world and back into reality.

I retrieve my keys from the hook in the kitchen, Bentley's ears perking up at the jingle. "Beach?" His response is immediate—a bark of agreement and a rush toward the door.

We take the familiar path to my Jeep, Bentley’s excited barks echoing in the stillness of the early morning. He jumps into the passenger seat, his tail wagging non-stop as I slide in behind the wheel.

Thankfully, Amber Isle sits just on the outskirts of town, a short drive from my apartment. It’s a little haven I’ve grown up beside all my life.

We pull into the lot and slowly trot our way to the shoreline, past the Boyer Inlet Pier, the place where my brother used to work when he was a student here. His old boss, Pawel, has long since retired, leaving the pier to be manned by a newer, younger version of himself. But even still, it’s too early in the morning for anyone else to be on the beachfront.

As we pass by, Bentley tugs on his leash, guiding us close enough to the water to touch, and I bend down to unlatch his collar. He stays close, and we’re alone, so it’s the perfect space and time for him to explore.

While he wanders, I stare into the open water, breathing low and deep. It’s as if each new wave carries away a piece of the tension knotted between my shoulders. The chill of the ocean air is a harsh wake-up call, shaking off the remnants of Everett and grounding me back into being myself, if only for a little while.

After a few minutes, Bentley trots back to my side, his movements slower than they used to be, but his spirit as lively as ever.

He carefully ambles ahead of me once more, sniffing and exploring, and I let my mind wander along with him.

Another academic year looms ahead—my final one in the electrical engineering program. It’s a bittersweet feeling knowing I’m a year behind the rest of my peers, but at least I’ve made it this far. There was a point in my life where I was positive that it wouldn’t happen. That it couldn’t happen.

A point where I didn’t know if I would make it to the next day, let alone the end of a four-year bachelor’s program.

And I know I’m up for grueling hours of studying, constant pressure, and the unending juggle of my double life. But for once, I’m optimistic, even though I’ll have to do it all alone now.

Kaia, my closest friend since childhood, isn’t here anymore to reassure me. She's off to graduate school hours away at Dayton. Don’t get me wrong, I’m proud as hell of all she’s accomplished despite the fact that I miss her. We still keep in touch, our texts and calls bridging the physical distance, but it's different now.

She has a life partner, a boyfriend whose career as a professional athlete leaves her constantly booked and busy. She has no issues making time for me amidst her studying and dating life, but I’d rather not be a burden to the few people I care about.

And then, there are concerns about splitting my time with my job. The late-night filming sessions, the constant worry of my two worlds colliding, the gnawing loneliness that comes from selling intimacy while yearning for it myself.

A bitter laugh escapes me because fretting about all this is so fucking pointless. I don’t have any other choice. Not now. Not when my identity, my livelihood, my entire fucking being is wrapped up in my sex work.

But life goes on despite it all, the rising sun setting off a new day. A day that begins with Elio and Bentley on the beach but will end with Everett fucking some virtual stranger on a screen.

A life split in two.

I nudge a piece of driftwood with my foot, the waves greedily snatching it up and carrying it away. How simple it would be to be to tag along with it, aimlessly floating along the waves, carried by the whims of the ocean.

No fucking deadlines, no expectations.

Bentley breaks away from his inspection of a particularly interesting seashell, bounding toward me. His tail wags in excitement, and I can't help but crack a tiny half-smile, crouching down to ruffle his thick, golden fur.

As he stares at me with his bright eyes, I heave a tired sigh. I have to remember that I'm not just putting in the work for myself. I'm doing it for Bentley, for Kaia, for my family, and even for Everett, that little piece of myself I’ve carved out and set on a platter for public consumption.

Somehow, the walk back to my car feels shorter, the countless deadlines already pricking at the edges of my consciousness. I glance down at my furry companion, his tongue lolling out in a pant, tail wagging with contentment.

Out in the distance, a lone surfer takes advantage of the pre-dawn stillness, riding the waves under the faint light of the morning sun. It may be early, but life around us is already buzzing, shaking off the last remnants of night.

"Let’s head back, buddy,” I mutter, stopping to scratch behind his ear.

Once we’re home, I unlock the door to my apartment and let my dog take the lead, waiting as he shuffles toward his bed. I follow him in, closing the door behind me. And now, after a much-needed break, the sight of my work laptop feels a little less daunting.

Everett might rule the night, but when the sun is out—the world outside waking up to a fresh day—it's Elio's turn.

***

The rest of my Monday is a dizzying rush of lectures, seminars, and half-baked assignments. Professors speak, my pen moves, but my mind is elsewhere. When the sun sets, and campus is mostly emptied out, I trudge back home, exhaustion clinging onto me like a second skin.

I head into my apartment, and Bentley trots over, tail wagging as he nudges against my legs. As much as I’d like to spend time with him, I have another role to play first. So, I give him a quick pat and a promise of a longer cuddle later. Then, I retreat down the hall, the sound of his whining tugging at my heartstrings.

In the emptiness of my bedroom, I quickly work to become my other half. It's a simple change of clothes, a shift in demeanor, and a switch from the physical world to the digital. But even as I strip, trading in my normal attire for an outfit that my subscribers prefer, I can't help but acknowledge the divide.

The person in the mirror looks like me, but the cool detachment in his eyes is far from the man I’d like to be.

My setup for filming is simple. A single camera, carefully adjusted for the perfect angle, a laptop for streaming, and a reliable internet connection, the lifeline to my audience.

I log into AfterDark, my eyes scanning the familiar interface. That’s when I spot a live one-on-one request—a rare but expected occurrence—from a user called SapphireDream. The name is random, impersonal, just how I like it.

Anonymity is the norm here, and over time, I've learned to detach myself like it’s second nature.

The Accept button glares at me, a reminder of what I'm about to do. The role I need to play, the script I need to follow, the performance I always promise to deliver.

I take a steadying breath and enter the conversation. The screen bursts into life, and SapphireDream's chat window opens up on one side, her icon some random pin-up girl from Pinterest.

"Hi, Everett," she types, and I can't help but snort a laugh at the contrast between her timid greeting and her chosen profile picture.

"Hello, Sapphire," I say, my voice steady, betraying none of the thoughts racing through my mind.

The conversation starts off innocently enough. Small talk and questions float back and forth, Sapphire’s shyness apparent in her short replies. But this is where Everett excels. He's the smooth-talking, charming person she needs him to be, guiding her into comfortable banter and conversation, instilling trust and an easy connection.

As the minutes turn into an hour, I peel off my shirt, leaving my torso bare. She asks me questions, her words growing bolder, while I respond with practiced ease. There's a method to all of this—being someone else—and it’s one I’ve perfected over the years.

“I want to see you. All of you,” she types, so I unbutton my jeans, my fingers working slowly, deliberately. My movements are calculated, a skill honed from countless nights of playing into the façade.

I slide out of my pants, leaving myself in just my boxers. All the while, Sapphire's words continue to dictate my movements. She's the puppeteer, and I suppose I’m her willing puppet.

As the intensity of our conversation kicks up, that familiar dissociation sets in, a necessary self-preservation tactic. I might be naked under the harsh gaze of the webcam, but there’s a larger part of me that remains veiled, protected.

Jerking myself off becomes just another act, another service Everett provides. There's no lust, no longing, just the mechanical movements of my hand, dictated by the desires of a faceless person living in my screen.

She asks me to touch myself, and I do. It's another job, another performance for my counterpart to nail.

When the session ends, her parting message promises a return, a compliment for Everett, another satisfied customer. I breathe out, the tension uncoiling from my muscles as I log off.

Drained and heavy with the aftermath, I tug my clothing back into place, the cold fabric clinging to my sweaty skin. I close the laptop, severing the final connection to Everett's world for the night.

Back in the realm of reality, I'm Elio again. I’m just a student, a dog owner, a brother, and a part-time friend. A person trying to make it through another day relatively unscathed.

Bentley's soft whine echoes outside my door, and I stand, stretching the stiffness from my body. It's late, and as much as I want to collapse onto my bed and escape into sleep, I have one more promise to keep.

With a final look at my switched-off laptop, I open my bedroom door, stepping out into the living room. Bentley's ears perk up, his tail wagging as he springs to his feet, ready for some long-promised attention.

I absentmindedly run my fingers through his fur, and the anxious buzz finally goes quiet, the divide between my two selves blurs until I'm just me again.

"Alright, buddy, time for bed," I murmur, dropping down to his level. His large brown eyes gaze up at me, understanding and affection reflecting back in them.

And as the late-night quiet settles around the two of us, I boost Bentley up onto the edge of my mattress. His soft snores fill the room while I tuck myself in, a comforting reminder of the simple, real parts of my life.

The tiny slices of truth that I hold onto, desperately hoping they might ground me.