“Okay, but you have to like him like that, right? If you’re getting dinner, and you’re sneaking flirty smiles with each other?”
I groan and rub a hand over my face. This isn’t the first time Em’s stuck her nose into my love life. I think she wants me to know that she’s a supportive sister and that she doesn’t care if I’m gay. She just takes it a little far sometimes.
But her questioning makes me pause, too. It’s true that Logan hasn’t turned out to be nearly as bad as I thought he would be. He’s more fearful and cautious than I expected, afraid to let anyone in, and a part of me—the part that loves getting to know other people—wants to be given permission to access those hidden sides of him. But we’re only in a fake relationship. He isn’t my real boyfriend. I don’t know why he would ever tell me his secrets if he doesn’t tell anyone else.
“We’re just getting to know each other right now,” I tell her again. “That’s it. Don’t get excited over nothing, okay?”
She’s visibly disappointed. She must think I am a part of the newest reality show that lets her see into the lives of the famous actors in Hollywood.
“I have to go. Tell Mom good night for me.” I pause. “And Dad, too.”
She nods. “Love you, Mattie.”
“Love you, Em.”
I change out of my clothes and pull on jogging shorts before I flop into the bed that has no business being this comfortable. I’m tired, but so grateful to be here. This is the dream, right?
I try to close my eyes and get some sleep, but I hear Gray’s words echoing in my ears. Sure, I character analyzed him tonight, but he analyzed me, too. Is he right? Do I protect myself by saying I’m too busy for a relationship?
He said that I would become a better actor if I figured out how to get in touch with my real emotions—if I was more authentic with myself. It was a shock to realize he’d seen through me. It’s true that I try to be perfect. If I’m not perfect and I’m not loved, then I’d have no choice but to think I might be right about myself—that I deserve this shame inside of me. Sometimes I’m worried that everyone else is right about me, too: my dad and the people at the church I used to attend and the bullies in high school who figured out I was gay. I’m worried that I’m not actually worthy of love, in the end.
This fear is getting in the way of letting my guard down—of me becoming a better actor. And, apparently, I only want to be a better actor because I need to be perfect, so that I can use my career as a wall for protection.
If that isn’t a mindfuck, then I don’t know what is.
I sigh and roll over, closing my eyes. It’s a while before my thoughts start to quiet down and I feel sleep coming.
*
I wake up to the hotel phone ringing. I look around, confused for a second. Pale light filters in through a crack in the heavy curtains. I still expect to be in my bedroom back in Decatur. Then I remember, and I realize what the sound is, and—
“Shit!” I scramble out of bed, almost falling, and grab the phone. “Hello?”
“Mattie?” Dave’s voice grumbles. “You okay?”
I check the time on my cell. It’s nine in the morning. I have a shit ton of missed calls from the second assistant director, but my phone was on silent. I was supposed to be on set thirty minutes ago.
“I’m so sorry, Dave,” I say. “I overslept, and I forgot to turn on my alarm—”
“It’s all right. Breathe.”
How did this even happen? It’s not like I was out all night partying, which I would never do, anyway. The hours on set must’ve caught up with me.
“You think you’re the first actor to be late?” Dave asks. I can still hear the twinge of annoyance in his voice, but it helps that he isn’t yelling at me. “Just get here as quickly as possible. There’re a few shots we can work on without you.”
Click. I hang up the phone and try not to sink to the floor. I’m a perfectionist because I feel like I need to prove to other people that I’m worthy of love. I have to earn their love by being the best. Where did that even come from? My mom has always loved me, unconditionally, and so has Emma…but my dad, when I was younger, always shouted at me to work harder, to be the best in sports and bring home the best grades. I failed his idea of what it meant to be a man. Maybe that’s affected me more than I’ve realized.
I can already feel the overwhelming shame of this massive mistake coming on. People are going to realize that I’m not perfect. That I’m not the golden boy of Hollywood that I’ve worked so hard to be. These are the moments that I wish I could be more like Gray and say fuck it—I don’t care what anyone thinks. I’ve got a while before I can reach that place, I think.
archiveofourown.org
Love in the Club
uwuhearts99
Summary:
Mattie Cole and Logan Gray can’t keep their hands to themselves.
Notes:
Okay, so I KNOW this is weird, but…the idea of Mattie Cole and Logan Gray together is DOING THINGS TO ME!!! I hope y’all like this.
Chapter 1: The Club
Gray pressed a hand to Mattie’s bare chest. His heart was beating rapidly in sync to the music that flowed around him. The club’s lights strobed and pulsed, just like the bulge in Gray’s pants, which was painfully hard to ignore.
“I never thought I would ever feel anything like this,” Gray said. “You’ve thawed my cold heart, Mattie.”
Mattie couldn’t wait any longer. He wanted Gray, here and now—on the dance floor. He sank to his knees. “I’m always happy to be of service, Gray.”
Gray began to unzip his jeans. Mattie slid down Gray’s boxers, releasing the painful bulge. Mattie gasped. Gray was HUGE!
People began to notice, but Mattie and Gray were used to performing. They were famous actors, after all. Mattie opened his mouth wide and Gray groaned. Neither of them cared that everyone in the club was staring. This was something they had both wanted for so long, and no one was going to stop them now.
Logan
The schedule for the day gets switched around. I’ve got a few scenes with Keith and a reshoot with Monica. I was supposed to focus on working with Matt. More than a few people around set are peeved. I feel bad. I’d considered sending him a text this morning to see if he wanted to ride over together. But I figured it would be better to keep some space between us. If we’re not performing our characters or our fake relationship, no need to spend extra time together like we did last night. Eating tacos and talking about personal shit. Why? It’ll just get too complicated after a while. I don’t know. I had a good time, but when I got back to my room, I started to feel an old tension filling my chest. I’d rather not deal with it.