Matt has come over to my apartment every day for a week now. It was pleasantly surprising, finding out that his sex drive is almost as high as mine. He was awkward at first, the first couple of times after I told him about my trauma—like he was afraid to touch me, afraid to be rough with me. I shut that shit down. “Don’t treat me like I’m going to break. You didn’t act this way before, right?” There was a glint in his eye at that one. He took it as a challenge. Had a few bite marks after that, something makeup had to spend a few extra minutes powdering.
We order Thai takeout since I don’t know what the fuck to do in a kitchen, and we sit together on the couch after we’ve showered. We’re not snuggling, exactly, when he sits with his back leaning against my arm and shoulder, feet up on the sofa. I’ve never had friends over in this apartment, except for people like Briggs, so it’s awkward for me at first—but then one day I suddenly can’t imagine being in this apartment without Matt anymore. I can’t stop thinking about him. When I’m figuring out what I’ll eat for dinner and want to text Matt to see what he’s in the mood for. When I’m taking a shower and wonder if he’d want to try having sex in here sometime, too. Even when I’m pulling on a black t-shirt and wonder if Mattie will like it.
It’s a fucking black t-shirt, Gray. Same as all the others. I think I’m losing my mind.
We lay in bed together, Matt holding my hand and rubbing a thumb over my knuckles as he stares at me. He didn’t reject me when I told him about my past. He didn’t tell me I was disgusting, and that he doesn’t want to see me again. But the more he looks at me like that, the more my chest tightens.
He kisses the palm of my hand. “Something’s different with us, right?” he whispers.
“Yeah.” I’m having a harder time looking at him.
*
We’ve only got a couple more weeks of shooting when the cast is given our first public outing. It’s at Vanessa Stone’s annual Halloween party, though no one ever dresses up. It’ll be a chance to reenter the world and schmooze as we get ready for the publicity and brutal promo tours. There’ll be bullshit with social media for the others in the cast—thank God I don’t have to deal with that—and interviews and sneak peaks for the film and photoshoots and red-carpet events and talk shows and…I’m already exhausted just thinking about it.
I’d get invited to these industry parties all the time, whether I was in a film or not, but after a while I learned to avoid them. Usually I’d end up as the party’s unpaid entertainment by being wasted and having some guy offer to take me home. I’m nervous. Old habits die hard.
The party is in a sleek mansion in the Hills with all-white walls and glass, glowing lights shining and people glimmering in their makeup and outfits that cost thousands of dollars, holding glasses of wine. I hate it. Everyone’s trying so hard to make everyone else believe they’re more important. I want to leave as soon as I step inside.
Mattie looks downright terrified. It’d be funny if I didn’t feel bad for him. I take his hand. Half continuing the act, half wanting to comfort him. I lean into his ear to whisper. “Don’t worry. You don’t have to impress anybody.”
He doesn’t seem so convinced. “If I fuck up, I could ruin my career.”
I shrug. “That’s true.”
“Thanks, Gray.”
“We could always leave.”
“No. It’s all right.” He takes a breath and gets that look of determination in his eye that I’ve been growing to love. “It’s part of the job, right?”
Across the room, I see Phillip Desmond nursing a glass of wine as he talks to Julie and Keith. Phillip is the star of that rival film that’s trying to beat us to the release date. It’s another queer romantic comedy. Two guys who fall in love while walking their dogs or some shit. What is it called? Good Dog?
“Isn’t that Phillip Desmond?” Matt asks.
“Yep.”
“Have you met him?”
“Nope.”
Mattie looks at Phillip curiously.
“You should go over,” I tell him.
“Are you sure?”
A part of me, a small part, was hoping he would say that he didn’t want to leave me behind. But why would he? The point of this event is to meet new people, right?
He hesitates. “Why don’t you come with me?”
I don’t want to deal with Phillip, Keith, and Julie. Can’t think of a more awkward group to stand with, all of them grinning through their teeth. “It’s all right. I’ll catch up with you in a second.”
He still seems unsure, but he nods and approaches the group. He’s greeted with warmth and love. Julie pulls him in for a hug. I grab a glass of wine from a passing waiter and walk over to the balcony to drink alone. This is usually how I end up at these events. I sip the wine and stare out at the landscape, the twinkling lights of manors and downtown LA in the distance.
Dave walks up to me. He sighs and leans against the railing. “I hate these things,” he says. He found a nice suit, but he looks like he’s itching in it. “It’s impossible for creatives to just create. No. Now we have to kiss ass and schmooze to get our projects greenlit. And you end up directing bullshit, soul-sucking romantic comedies just to earn a production company some money, waiting for the chance to do something that makes you feel alive. No offense.”
Dave’s obviously already had a glass or two. I don’t give a fuck. “None taken.”
He sighs. “I wonder when the end of the line is, you know? How do you know when it’s time to move on from an industry that doesn’t want you anymore?”
I’ve never considered it. Walk away from acting? It’s the only thing I know how to do. The only path I can see that would get me enough money to escape my dad and his control over me. But maybe getting away is as easy as leaving. Leaving my apartment, leaving the city. I don’t know what the hell I would do then. Become a barista in New York, maybe. I’d just need to get comfortable with the realization that I wouldn’t be living this lavish lifestyle anymore.
Dave claps a hand on my shoulder. “Just promise me one thing, Gray. Don’t become a bitter old man like me, stuck in a world where you’re walked all over and treated like shit. No matter how much money you make. Okay? Fuck money. Money is bullshit. These billionaires are ruining the world.”
I like drunk Dave. “Yeah. Okay.”
He leaves. I turn around, back leaning against the railing. I can see inside. Mattie’s smiling, speaking to Phillip. Phillip Desmond is the whitest man alive. Pink skin and yellow hair, eyes so pale I can’t even tell what color they are. He’s laughing at something Mattie says. He leans in, a hand grazing Matt’s arm. Makes sense, somehow, that they flirt the exact same way. Matt doesn’t pull away. He looks a little shy. It’s like that magical moment when you see two golden retrievers meet for the first time. Fuck.
I down the rest of the wine and put the glass on the railing before I head to the group, grabbing a fresh glass from a server on the way over. I stop beside Matt and take his hand. Phillip looks at our intertwined fingers, then up at me.
“Great to meet you, Logan,” he says. He has a British accent. Not a fake one, like some people in this city tend to have. “Huge fan of yours.”
I raise my wine to him with my free hand. “Wish I could say the same.”
The silence is painful. Keith shakes his head and leaves. Mattie looks at me. Why should he be surprised? He knows who I am.