by Box Set
"Hey you." He looked up at her with a smile before his gaze traveled up and down her body as obviously as only a lover's gaze could. The wave of warmth rushed through her. She’d pulled on a pair of sleeping shorts and a top—nothing sexy, but from the look Greg gave her, he definitely liked it.
"Hi." Sylvia walked up to him, feeling bold thanks to that unspoken compliment. She pushed up onto her toes to kiss him on his prickly cheek, but he turned and she caught his lips instead. She smiled into the kiss. "I'm impressed you even found everything for pancakes," she admitted when she pulled away. "I haven't had time to go shopping lately.”
“I wasn't motivated enough to go to the store. If you didn't have everything I needed, I'd have made something else." He used the spatula to point her to the chair at the kitchen island where two plates were set up. "Coffee?"
"Yes, please." Sylvia felt a bit weird to have him serve her in her own kitchen, but she didn't complain. It was nice.
Eating breakfast with Greg was even nicer. They sat facing each other at the kitchen island, and their legs kept bumping against each other—at first it was from the lack of space, but then they kept doing it on purpose, brushing shin against shin as if they were teenagers playing footsie under the table. They talked about last night's performances and dinner with Charlie, about family recipes for pancakes, and whatever else came to mind. When Greg got up to put their plates into the sink and to give them a coffee refill, Sylvia realized she had been smiling nonstop since she’d gotten up from bed.
Instead of handing Sylvia the mug across the island, Greg circled the table, came up to her, and put her coffee down without taking his eyes off of her the entire time. She turned on her stool to face him and put her hands on his hips, drawing him closer as he cupped her jaw and kissed her. Their kiss was sweet from the syrup and pancakes, and they both smiled into it.
"Good morning to me," Greg said when he pulled away, brushing his fingers underneath her jaw.
Sylvia chuckled. "Good morning to me, too."
"I didn't take a shower, because I didn't want to wake you," he continued, a ghost of a smirk in the corners of his lips, "but what do you say we take one together now?"
Her body reacted immediately, ready to say yes, but her mind was more practical.
"I wish, but I'm not sure my shower could fit two people."
Greg moved half a step closer, plastering himself to Sylvia's front and making her spread her legs. She could feel the heat curling in her stomach from that move alone, and other protests seemed stupid now, especially when he whispered, "Let’s find out."
The shower cabin wasn't big, but it turned out to be enough for two people who really didn't mind being close. Greg squeezed a shower gel onto his palm and then proceeded to soap her body, paying close attention to her breasts and stomach. She leaned against the wall when he slipped his hand down between her legs, teasing her entrance with a barely-there thrusts of his fingers. Then his thumb found her clit, and she let out a moan, clasping her hands on his shoulders as he worked on driving her crazy.
The orgasm left her with shaky breath and trembling legs, but when she was sure she could stand, she set to return the favor, soaping his chest and arms and what she could reach of his back. Then she slipped her hand lower to grasp his hard cock and started a lazy rhythm until he pushed back into her grip. She sped up then, her thumb circling the head on every upstroke, and a few minutes later, his come splashed on her hand and belly as he let out a small gasp, barely heard over the spray of the shower.
As the water started getting colder, they rinsed off quickly and left the stall, laughing as Sylvia stumbled getting out and fell against Greg's chest. He caught her easily, circling his arms around her waist, and when she glanced to the side, she noticed their reflection in the mirror over the sink.
They were naked and pressed together, laughing and wet, and Sylvia wished she could capture this moment forever.
Chapter Ten
For the next week and a half, whenever Greg managed to forget about the ax hanging over his head, his life was pretty much perfect. His time was split between the rehearsals and Sylvia, and he enjoyed the developing routine.
He barely spent any time in his hotel room, usually only to change or pick up some things. He invited Sylvia over a few times, but he understood she much preferred her own home—he preferred it, too, even if the shower stall in the hotel was twice as big as the one at Sylvia’s place. Her apartment was cozy—lived-in and a bit cluttered—and with her roommate away on a family trip, they were completely alone, which meant privacy and peace.
They took all the precautions they could to avoid media finding out where Sylvia lived and they had been lucky so far. Greg had to admit that the paparazzi here were nowhere near as bad as in L.A. Sure, there were a few more times when Sylvia and he were photographed and once or twice when they were unsubtly followed during their walks, but out in the city, they didn’t try very hard to stay hidden. After all, the public ruse was still on.
The murky line between them in public and them in private was definitely something they should talk about at some point soon, but Greg never wanted to bring this up when they were alone and cocooned in their bubble, free to be like any other couple. And since discussing it in public was a dumb idea for obvious reasons, they still hadn’t talked about it, making it up as they went instead.
"We're here," Jack said as he parked a block from the theater’s backdoor, pulling Greg out of his thoughts.
“Thanks. I should be done by four.”
He grabbed his backpack and left the car, looking around out of habit, but no one batted an eye at the guy in old jeans and a hoodie leaving a nice car. Nobody cared.
Greg wished his entire life could be like this.
"Let's take five as we bring in the furniture, guys."
Maria Gonzalez, the director of Illuminations, waved them all off of the stage, and Greg grabbed a bottle of water before sitting down in the front row and slouching until the back of his neck rested against the top of his seat. He watched the crew moving the table and chairs onto the stage, and he ran through everything that needed to happen in the next scene as he sipped his water. It was the big fight between Peter, the main character, and Curtis, his ex-best friend turned reluctant rival, and it was the most charged part of the whole play. And after two weeks of rehearsals, Greg could say in all certainty that it was his absolute favorite.
He was so focused on running through the scene that he didn't notice Charlie until his friend sat down next to him.
“We’re having lunch in your dressing room, just you and me, or I’m denouncing you.”
Greg snorted. “What?”
“Quality friend time, man, you’ve been so busy lately—”
“We’ve been busy, you mean.”
Charlie shrugged like it didn’t matter. “You’ve been bonding with the whole cast and that’s—”
“You made me,” Greg pointed out. At first, there had been tension, an invisible line between him and the rest of the cast. They hadn’t known each other, and the issue of him possibly getting pulled out at the last minute was hanging over everyone’s head. He’d been okay with being an outsider for the time being, but Charlie had other ideas. He’d made sure to arrange that he and Greg were joined by at least half the cast on any given day during the lunch break, and although it made for some crowded dressing rooms, it also went a long way to integrate Greg into the team, which he appreciated a lot.
Still, Charlie didn’t get to call him on that now.
“—good and well,” Charlie continued, ignoring him completely, “but let’s make it just the two of us today.”
“Sure, okay.” It wasn’t like he was going to say no. “Is there something you want to tell me?”
“If you’re fishing about Nick—”
Before Charlie could tell him anything about his boyfriend, Greg’s phone vibrated in his hand. His agent's caller ID flashed on the screen, and Charlie’s grimace probably mat
ched his own.
“Never mind. Go on, take it.” Charlie got up and moved to sit by Tessa and Malik a few seats to his left.
Greg watched him go for a few seconds before hitting the green button.
After picking Sylvia up from the office at least a dozen times, Greg almost forgot how nervous he was the first time he’d gotten there. But now the tension was back, and he was coming as a client in crisis, not a doting boyfriend.
He’d called Nate from the car earlier, asking for a meeting. He’d known Sylvia wasn’t going to be in the office, since she mentioned doing errands this afternoon, and he couldn’t help being relieved. He didn't want to pull her into his mess even further if he didn’t have to. And maybe he wouldn’t have to.
As he entered the F.Y.U. office, he noted the empty chair behind the front desk first, and then Nate and Shawn, who were leaning against the counter and talking quietly. They nodded at him, and after exchanging handshakes, all three of them moved to Shawn's office, the furthest one from the front.
"I appreciate you seeing me on short notice," Greg said as they all sat down—him on the couch and the two fixers on the chairs facing him. It wasn't as cozy as the private conference room they had been in the first time Greg had come here, but he bet it wasn't supposed to be. It was a business office after all.
"We’re happy to help,” Shawn assured him.
"I got a call from my agent,” Greg started, brushing his fingers over his eyebrow. “Marlow, the VP of Dot Entertainment, is still trying to make something out of nothing. He's dodging my agent's calls, but he's talking with other board members."
"How does your agent know?" Shawn asked.
Greg offered him a lopsided smile. "She often tells me she knows everything, and the scary thing is, she usually does. I'm pretty sure that if she was here, she would’ve looked straight through this whole plan on day one."
Shawn's lips twitched. "If she ever wants to change careers and relocate, let us know. We could use someone like that."
"I wouldn't hold my breath." Greg told him. "Anyway, she learned that Marlow's still trying to stir trouble. At this point, it looks more and more like a personal vendetta, even if nobody over there will admit it. The guy had never liked me, and then he found himself a reason to hate me even more. And I don’t really care, other than it can cost me this.” He took a deep breath. “I just wanted to ask what’s the best thing to do here. Should I call the rest of the Dot's board and try to win them over? Should I pretend I know nothing about it? Something else?"
“Something else like leaking the story about your Broadway debut?" Shawn asked.
Greg shook his head. "I’m not doing that."
"It wouldn't be—"
"I don’t care," Greg interrupted Shawn. "I’ve told you before. That would create bad blood all around and cost the theater a lot of money if Dot decided to pull the plug out of spite. The company took a risk to give me this chance and accommodate me. Besides, one of my best friends works there. I'm not using them as a bargaining chip. Oh, and last but not least, they could take me to court for this and win."
Shawn nodded. "Okay then."
Greg frowned. He expected a bigger fight. "That's it?"
The two fixers exchanged smirks before Shawn turned back to him. "I'm only tossing ideas at you. I'm not going to fight you for one until I really think it's the one." He shrugged. "And you're right, this one is messy."
"What's the least messy option, then?" Greg asked.
"Leaving it alone," Nate told him. "You may not like that either, but that's what it is." He sighed. "Listen, I know the time's running out, and the tension's flying high because you don't know what they're going to do and that sucks. But you only have a week of that left and then you're free to stay in New York without care of what they think. The story of you dating Sylvia is solid. Reaching out to people from that company and trying to play them now could look suspicious. Like maybe you're trying too hard."
Shawn nodded. "If they call you, that's different. You can play an open book and say all the right things—'I want to make this the best option for all of us', 'We're a team, it's just that it’s really important to me', et cetera, et cetera. But when you’re the one to reach out, you're opening yourself to hits."
"With the agreement I have, I’m like a piñata already. It's like I’m guilty until proven otherwise."
"And you proved otherwise," Nate pointed out. "So don't put yourself in a lost position. Reinforce the notion that there's nothing wrong, nothing to worry about. You don't call them yourself when you're in L.A., right?"
"My agent handles that, unless there's an emergency." Greg sat back against the couch cushions. He was starting to see their point.
"And this, now, won't be seen as an emergency until you make it look like one," Nate said, sitting back as well.
Shawn nodded. "The appearance is what counts now. You're in New York, and you're dating a nice woman, neither of you causes any trouble, and the media basically coos over you. Dot has no room to complain. To be honest, if they try something, I'd consult the best entertainment lawyer you can find, because I'd argue malicious intent on their part.”
Greg sighed. "You're right. The best thing's to sit back and wait it out, but…" He shrugged. Waiting around had never come easily to him.
"But you want to do something to help push matters forward," Shawn finished for him. "That's understandable. It’s just simply not the best way to deal with this particular case."
"I get it." Greg nodded. "I'll tell myself it's only nerves as often as I need to." He sent them a dry smile. "Thanks for this, guys. I mean it."
Nate shrugged. "That's what we're here for. We won’t stop working until your deal is up. If anything happens, don’t hesitate to call us."
Shawn glanced at Nate before looking back at Greg. "I have a question—did you ask to see us specifically when you knew Sylvia wouldn’t be here?”
“No, I got the call and then contacted you right after I left the theatre. I didn’t plan beyond that.” He hesitated. He could end it here and it wouldn’t even be a complete lie, more like…not sharing the whole truth. But these guys proved themselves to be observant and smart. They knew there was something else, and he didn’t want any confusion. “I was relieved it turned out like it did, though.”
"Why?" Nate asked, and there was an edge in his voice now that wasn’t there before.
Greg looked straight at him. "Because I don't want to pull her further into this. She's been doing me a big favor already, but I don't want to put her on a spot again. It's not…" He paused, searching for the right words. "It's not who we are to each other now." He looked from Nate to Shawn and back. "I also don't think any special media coverage of the two of us is going to help at this point."
He got a nod from Nate, and after that they quickly wrapped up the conversation. They exchanged goodbyes, and Greg headed for the door, but Nate stopped him before he opened them.
"On a personal note, I appreciate you're trying to do things right with Sylvia," he told Greg, voice low, as if Shawn couldn't hear him from a few feet away at his desk. “But from years of experience, I also know that she doesn’t like to be treated like she can’t handle herself. You may want to remember that going forward.”
“I’m not—”
Nate shook his head. “I’m not insinuating that you are. As I said, I appreciate your effort. That was only a piece of advice.”
Greg nodded. He didn’t doubt that Sylvia could handle herself, he just didn’t want to add stress to an already difficult situation. Between the ruse for the press and them becoming more than a pretend couple, he didn’t want it to turn messy.
He glanced at the empty front desk as he was walking out.
Messier, he corrected in his head.
Chapter Eleven
Sylvia spent half her Saturday recording and editing new videos for her channel, and she finally published the two that were supposed to have gone out in the last few weeks. She had stopped putt
ing anything out there when she’d woken up to thousands of notifications in her inbox a day after the photos of her and Greg had been posted all over the Internet—and all over the world, it seemed. She’d frozen at the numbers. There seemed to be a never-ending influx of new subscribers, new comments, and new messages on every social media account she had linked to the vlog channel.
She hadn’t touched any of it for weeks, but today, with Greg spending the entire day at the rehearsals, she decided to stop avoiding and actually act like a grown-up she was supposed to be.
After handling the videos, she went on to tackle the inbox and social media. She started with the comments under various videos—and there seemed to be new comments under every one of them. Some of them were nice and actually on topic. There had been a few people who shared her Broadway love, and she made a note of a few of their vlogs to check out later on.
But a lot of people didn’t care about her content at all. Sylvia’s stomach clenched harder at every comment about how she looked, how she talked, how she wasn’t good enough for Greg Abrams… How she wasn’t anything special at all. A comment about her being an actor groupie had hundreds of likes, and she found herself blinking back tears. And that wasn’t even the worst thing they called her.
Sylvia had been on and around the Internet communities long enough to have seen her fair share of haters and trolls, but, aside from a few random comments here and there, they were never directed at her. She had never been famous enough to acquire attention like that.
She disabled the notifications about new comments and logged off. After closing her laptop, she sat there for a while, staring at her wall where a framed poster from Les Miserables’ twenty-fifth anniversary show was hanging next to the one from Hamilton.
She closed her eyes, wishing Greg was here.
She knew it was stupid and dangerous to feel like this. Their time together could end at any point, after all. It would end, sooner or later, no matter what. She should be preparing herself for that, she just…didn’t know how.
