The next morning, ringing phones jolted Michael and Dylan awake. Both groaned in unison, fumbling clumsily for their devices. "You’ve got a couple’s shoot. Get your asses out of bed and be here in less than ten minutes," barked Josh, Michael’s manager, on the other end of the line. At the same time, Dylan’s father, Mr. Smith, was giving a similarly stern order. Lowering their phones, Dylan flopped back onto the bed while Michael came on top, straddling him. "We should hurry," Michael said, leaning closer, but Dylan, still half-asleep, shook his head. "What about a round after the photoshoot?" Michael teased with a playful smirk. Dylan cracked an eye open. "You're just gonna back out later, so, no, It’s not going to work," he muttered groggily. Michael chuckled. "You’re awake now, though." He pulled back, leaving Dylan’s side with a giggle. "Time to get busy." Reluctantly, Dylan sat up, grumbling, "Can’t believe we slept at five a.m. only to be up by seven. That’s barely
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