by T L Bradford
Dead puppies. Dead puppies. Dead puppies. Just think about dead puppies. I’m pulling off his shirt and revealing that perfect body. I take his mouth aggressively using my weight to push him back further to the edge of the bed. He falls backward, and I immediately jump on top of him and continue my mission. Next, I go for the buckle on his jeans. He looks up at me with a daring glint in his eye. He wants this. I yank them down with no ceremony whatsoever. I then toss them off to the side and take my shirt off, pulling it upside down from the back. He’s looking back at me with pure lust in his eyes. I throw myself forward and go to kiss his mouth again when we hear a noise. Beau walks in on us, and we are caught.
“Cut!” says Marty.
I roll quickly off of Josh and go to grab my shirt. It will work as a distraction to cover another potential problem.
“Okay, that take looks good. And we are done, everyone. Thank you for your hard work today.” Jesus, did he say hard? Not helping. Dead puppies. Dead puppies. We’ve been filming all afternoon on this one scene. We do multiple takes, and I’m about to lose it. I’m like some horny 13-year-old boy unable to get control of myself today.
Ash walks over to talk with me. Great just what I need.
“If I weren’t in the scene, I wouldn’t believe it.” He wiggles his eyebrows.
“What?” I’m a little breathless.
“The heat ya’ll give off is about to set off the freakin’ alarms.”
“It’s just acting.” I turn around and trying to cover my junk.
“It was still pretty hot. And I’m not even gay,” he chuckles with a good ole boy laugh.
I glance over at Josh, who is still laying on the bed but propped up on his elbows. It’s like he’s sizing me up and trying to figure out what the fuck just happened. I have to get this under control.
I’ve managed to contain myself by the time we are both back in the dressing room. Josh breaks the ice as usual by saying, “Margherita Pizza tonight?”
“Yeah, man, that sounds good.”
We stop off at California Pizza Kitchen to get our pizza on our way home. As we’re waiting in the lobby, a small group of people recognize us and come over asking for selfies. We oblige, then grab our pizza and go. The fact that I’m getting more recognition from fake dating a guy than dating a girl who was truly my girlfriend baffles me. Still, the public seems to love it.
That night we watch White Heat a film noir movie from the 40s. It stars James Cagney, who is one of our favorite actors. As usual, we are at his guesthouse in the little living room. I think we like it there because of the cozy ambiance. We take our spots on the couch next to each other and kick back with the pizza. Full and happy, we both lay far back on the couch to finish out the film. I can tell Josh is starting to doze off after a while because his head is starting to bounce as he struggles to stay awake. Without thinking, I gently put my arm behind him and move his head down to my chest. He gives no resistance then snuggles into my chest on his own. After a few minutes, he is out like a light.
The next couple of weeks are a light shooting schedule because we have several TV appearances. Josh is awesome at these. His charm oozes from every pore. He’s funny, sexy, affable all while still being relatable. The various hosts eat it up and hang on his every word. I love seeing him like this in his element. For some reason, it makes me damn proud. But the best part of every day is knowing that when we go home, it’s just the two of us and I have him all to myself. Tonight, we play old video games and watch our binge show while doing our new favorite activity, spooning on the couch.
I talk with Gemma the next day to catch up, and I ask her to come over. We haven’t been hanging out lately, and I’m starting to miss her. She comes in looking fresh and happy. We fix a quick dinner and get caught up quickly. I tell her she looks positively radiant. Only one thing can cause that, so I ask her if she is seeing anyone special.
“I am.” She blushes deeply. It looks beautiful on her. I’m curious as hell and try to get the info on the guy, but she is careful not to share too much. This is out of the ordinary for her since we normally tell each other everything. I’m a little worried now because this may be serious and I’m not sure if I’m ready to deal with that.
“When do I get to meet this guy? I have to make sure he has at least the minimum requirements to date you.”
“And what would those be?”
“For example, the ability to brush his teeth, bathe himself and handle his bodily functions.”
“Oh, thanks a lot. Nice to know you have such low expectations for me.”
“Well, you know, baby, after you’ve had the best, you settle for the rest.”
“Oh my god, the ego on this one! You are insane.”
Then I hear the side door open, and Josh walks in. He sees us and stops. “Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t know you had company. I’ll…I’ll come back later.”
“Josh, there’s no need, Noah and I are just making turkey surprise.”
“What’s the surprise?” he asks, stepping right into this one.
“The surprise is there is no turkey.” He comes over and chats for a little while, but I can tell he feels out of place and makes up an excuse to leave us. I think I detect a little hurt in his eyes, but I can’t imagine why. He knows Gemma and I have been broken up for a long time now. When he leaves, Gemma is quiet for a long time, then begins the interrogation.
“What’s it like living with Josh?” She picks up her spoon and eats the casserole while I clean the dishes.
“We aren’t living together. He has his own place,” I point out.
She shrugs and says, “Semantics.”
“It’s fine,” I answer tersely, not wanting to enter this line of questioning.
“Clips from The Advocate interview were online today,” she says like she’s prodding to get me to say more. I’m not. When I don’t respond, she continues. “You seem like you’re getting along really well now.”
“As you said, we needed to find a way to work together. We did.” I try not to sound too curt in my response, but I don’t want to talk about this or the interview.
Trying a different approach, she says, “You guys are becoming an international phenomenon. People are making videos out of your scenes and translating them in all languages. That’s powerful stuff.” I feel myself starting to sweat. If she sees me getting flustered, she will start to think something is up.
“I think people love the idea of love. No matter who the parties are involved.”
Her tone drops, and she becomes serious. “You know, it’s been a while since we were together. I want nothing more than to see you happy and see you move on with your life. You are like a different person now. So alive and content. I can’t help but think someone has come into your life to make that happen.”
“Gem…”
“You deserve everything good coming to you, and I don’t want for you to miss it because you feel some obligation to me or feel stifled by anyone else. Okay? No one else matters. Listen to your heart. Don’t be afraid to find—”
“Gem! That’s enough.” I’m forceful this time to let her know I am done with this conversation. She jumps a little, and I immediately regret the tone I have taken with her. Softening my voice, I say, “Just stop okay?”
“Okay.” She looks sad and concerned. She then walks around the kitchen island and gives me a big hug. “Know I’m here. For the day you need to talk to someone.”
The Advocate magazine interview is released along with the video a few weeks later. The cover for the magazine is of Josh and me by the pool. It trends on all the social media platforms. Buzzfeed dedicates numerous quizzes and articles to the show. We are mentioned in late-night TV show monologues, viral memes and have skits made about us on SNL. Extra security has been added to the set to stop the crazies, both supporters and detractors. I’ll never understand what makes an event go viral, but I am living proof that these things can happen.
Paparazzi is beginning to follow us around. M
y best guess is they are trying to catch us in a compromising position. Our castmates have been very supportive. They are great about keeping our private lives private and not selling us out to the highest bidder. This is especially meaningful since it has become harder for Josh and me to go to public places. We spend more time isolated at home.
I’ll admit we’ve grown very close and sometimes are not as aware of our personal boundaries as we should be. For example, it’s become fairly common for us to touch each other, even off-set. Most of the cast and crew accept it and think nothing of it, at least they don’t mention anything to us.
Our affection for each other is evident in our public appearances as well, and we’re not actively working to hide it either. We have in effect blurred the line between our characters and ourselves and the ambiguity helps fuel the media fire. The studio is loving the attention and ratings for the show have shot through the roof. In fact, they have encouraged us to keep up the flirty play and banter between us. It’s alright by me; it lets me be the way I want to with Josh in public while still giving me an out.
Everything is great until I get the anonymous text that reads:
“For every hack, there will be a crack.”
Oh, God. He knows.
Chapter 17
Josh
I’m not sure what went down with Noah the other day, but he has been distant and unfocused lately. He refuses to talk about it. In an attempt to cheer him up, Olive, Ash, Sarita and I take him out to the happiest place on earth, Disneyland. It has been my goal to get him to go ever since he told me he had never been there. That was just unacceptable.
We all crush into his Jeep and head to the park where we act like 12-year-old kids the entire day. We are bouncing from ride to ride, eating total crap food, and laughing like lunatics. I can see his spirits lifting at least temporarily, and it fills my heart.
Noah is not a fan of rollercoasters, but he braves them anyway. When we finally can board the Space Mountain ride, I see the panicked look in his eye that I am now familiar with. He reaches over for his pulse, but instead, I grab his hand and remove it. I then put my hand over his and intertwine our fingers. He is still nervous but squeezes my hand tightly. We take off like a shot and he maintains his shit the entire time.
Later we go out to dinner with the gang. I make sure to take the seat next to Noah. We order tapas and talk about the crazy things we did all day. The mood is light, and everyone is having a great time. We get stopped several times by fans who are delighted to see all of us together. I can tell this stresses Noah out, who grows a little quieter as the evening rolls on. I scoot my chair back and massage his shoulders to get him to relax. He leans back, letting me and drops his head back in pleasure. He moans softly.
“It’s a goddamn shame that the two hottest guys I know are into each other,” Olive says. “What a waste of man meat.”
I laugh, still massaging Noah. “What, are we giving you a lady boner?” I say salaciously.
“Like you have no idea,” she says. Everyone laughs.
“Watch it ya’ll, I think she’s trying to make her 3-way a real thing,” Ash says.
“Sorry, only room for two.” I tease and lean over to place a quick peck on Noah’s nose. He smiles with his eyes closed.
Sarita sighs. “It’s a sad state of affairs when the most functional couple I know isn’t even real,” she deadpans.
“Seriously, though, when are you guys going to make this thing Facebook official?” Olive says.
“What do you mean?” I answer like I don’t know what she’s talking about.
“I mean when is Noah going to put a ring on it. Duh!”
“It’s not like that. We’re just good friends,” Noah says ironically, while his eyes are still closed, moaning and looking like he is in pure ecstasy.
“If I had a friend like that, I wouldn’t need my vibrator anymore,” says Sarita.
“TMI Sarita,” says Ash. “Besides, what they have is an example of the most excellent bromance. They work together, play together, hang out together, eat meals together, work out together, live together, make out… hey wait, you guys are already married!”
“Not even, and hey, what makes you think Noah would be the one to propose? Why not me?” I ask incredulously.
They all pass around a glance and look down. “What! Are you saying I’d be the wife!?!”
“Sweetie, we love you no matter what. Let’s just go with that, okay?” Olive says in a sugary tone patting my arm.
“You know what? Screw you guys; I am so not the wife.”
“Okay, Josh, whatever you say,” she says, rolling her eyes, then turns around mouthing, “He is so the wife,” silently as if I cannot see.
“They just don’t understand us. We are total bros, and that’s all. Now, come on baby let’s go,” I say to Noah facetiously. I hear a roar of laughter as we leave.
That night we watch a movie and eat popcorn. I keep sneaking glances at Noah. What Olive said earlier has continued to play on a loop in my mind. I imagine in my head what life with Noah would be like for real. I’ve never had any type of experience with a man before and had honestly not considered it seriously. Am I now? I’ve always believed myself to be open, sexually speaking. Granted up to this point, I have only been with women, but the idea of a man does not necessarily turn me off.
Noah is engrossed in the film. It’s a strange adjective to use for a man, but Noah is truly beautiful. I see him in profile with his face relaxed. He is slowly eating popcorn from the bowl. His fingertips linger at his lips while he eats and watches. Some part of him must feel me watching because he turns his head slightly to me. He knows I have been watching him without saying anything. Noah puts the bowl down and waits for a beat. Then he puts out his hand for me to take. I swallow hard and grasp his palm.
He pulls me over to his side and sits all the way back on the couch, giving me enough space to lay in front of him. He puts his left arm around my waist, holding me tight. With his right hand, he begins lazily, running his fingers through my hair. He gazes down at me, and I feel something shift in the way he regards me. I think he wants to kiss me, but something is holding him back. I would let him if he tried. Instead, he leans down and kisses my forehead, like a small child, then lifts his head, turns his eyes back to the movie and continues stroking my hair tenderly.
That night he does not leave to go back to his place. Instead, we lie next to each other on the couch, him holding me in a tight cocoon while we sleep, his head resting on top of mine, me, curled up on his chest. I am right over his heartbeat. This feels right, like coming home.
A few days later, a picture surfaces on social media of us together. It has obviously been taken from outside Noah’s house by the kitchen window. The picture isn’t illicit but does leave our straight status open for interpretation. It shows Noah with his arms on the kitchen counter around either side of me, and my hands on his hips. We are smiling lazily at each other. They could have gotten more compromising shots, so we got lucky. It freaks out Noah though, more than it should have. He hasn’t discussed anything with me, but I think his estranged father may have tried to contact him last night. Whatever was communicated set Noah off, and he got in his Jeep and left. He did not come back until the following day.
Things change from this point on between us. Paparazzi follow us everywhere. They camp outside our house, making it difficult for us to visit each other. Noah tells me he thinks we need to steer clear of each other for a while until it blows over. I am not a fan of this idea, but I also don’t want to push him or worse push him away entirely.
He grows increasingly distant with the self-imposed separation. I keep trying to reach out to him, but he is shutting down internally. On occasion, he will pick meaningless fights in an attempt to push me away. In turn, I lash back at him.
I feel like I’m losing him, and it’s happening so quickly I cannot keep up. It’s frustrating, and I’m not sure how to cope with it. I have no idea how to label our
relationship, but whatever it is, he is a part of me now, and it hurts like crazy to not have him around.
Our troubles at home are spilling onto the set. The tension between Noah and I is blatant, and everyone is tense around us. Troubled over Noah’s behavior and the relentless media attention, Steph and Genie bring me into their office one afternoon to discuss the situation. I tell them that Noah is having some personal issues and whatever it is, he’s not talking about it, even with me. They say the studio is getting uneasy about how the media swarm is affecting us. The intense attention is getting to Noah, and that is not good for their star. His issues are beginning to weigh on his performance, and that is something that they cannot have.
When the show goes on hiatus, Steph and Genie have an idea to get Noah and me back on track. It would allow us to get away from the media maelstrom as well as give us a chance to talk through our issues in a professional, isolated setting. Couples therapy. Yep. A one week, fully paid vacation in Hawaii footed by the studio.
After getting the news, I go to the dressing room and find him looking out the window. When I tell Noah, he is not exactly enthusiastic.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Don’t think of it as couples therapy, think of it as a week free vacation on a tropical island paradise.”
“What did you tell them?” He looks at me with accusing eyes. “They know that we are not a real couple, right?” He’s angry and walks toward me with a purpose like he thinks I told them differently.
I shrink back in spite of myself. “Of course, they know we are not together. I didn’t say anything. Why would I lie about something like that?” He is still staring at me with those cold silver-green eyes then looks away and shakes his head.
Muttering mostly to himself I hear him say, “This is all getting out of control. I can’t believe this shit.”
