Action

by Quinn Anderson

  “Someone’s popular,” Raj joked. “Is it a”—he leaned closer and whispered—“boy?”

  “No,” Pete squeaked.

  The disbelief was so plain on Raj’s face that Pete abandoned the pretense. “Yes. Well, sort of. He’s a boy, but I don’t know if he’s a boy.”

  “Somehow, that made sense.” Raj waited until Professor Mejia had turned his back before saying in an undertone, “Tell me about him.”

  “There’s not much to tell.” Pete matched his volume. “We met a few weeks ago.”

  “Where?”

  Heat crept up his neck. “Um, at my job.” It wasn’t a lie.

  Raj smirked. “And they say making coffee won’t get you anywhere in life. Has he declared his intentions toward you?”

  “Not in so many words.”

  Raj paused long enough to jot down a quick note before turning back to Pete. “But he got your phone number? Isn’t that a pretty clear sign that he likes you?”

  “It’s kinda more complicated than that.”

  “Did he ask you out on a date?”

  Pete started to say no, but then he remembered their conversation last night. Evan had invited him to both drinks and coffee. Ostensibly, they were going to meet up on Friday. It could be just as friends, but even Pete wasn’t insecure enough to think Evan’s interest in him stopped there.

  “I don’t know,” he answered honestly.

  “Not for nothing, buddy, but how can you not know if you were asked out?”

  “I just don’t know what his intentions are, to use your word. He’s invited me to things, but he’s never explicitly said they were a date.”

  “People don’t usually declare, ‘This is a date’ when asking people out, but I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. We’re not sure how the boy feels. What about you? Do you want to date him? You think he’s attractive and all that?”

  Pete turned red at warp speed. “Dude, you’re straight. Are you sure you wanna hear about this?”

  “Don’t you play the Bro Card with me,” Raj reprimanded him. “I may be straight, but I’ll have you know I have a healthy appreciation for the male form. That, and I’m dying to know who could have captured the elusive Pete’s attention.”

  Pete huffed. “Fine. Yeah, I’m attracted to him. Ridiculously so. But that could very well be fucked up.”

  “Why?”

  “He looks a lot like Christopher. Or, at least, I thought so at first.”

  “Uh-oh. Wasn’t he the Roxie Richter to your Ramona Flowers?”

  “Yup. He fucked me up pretty badly. And if I can allow myself a moment of pettiness, this guy I’m kinda flirting with is a hotter version of him.”

  Raj whistled lowly. “Jackpot.”

  “Not jackpot. It totally freaked me out at first. I’m over it now, but it still makes me wonder if the attraction I feel is a hundred percent for him and not for my ex.”

  “Damn, son,” Raj said soberly. “That’s some Maury shit right there.”

  Pete shoved him.

  Laughing under his breath, Raj said, “Sorry. For the record, I think you’re reading way too much into this. You said you’re over it, right?”

  “Yeah. Now that I’ve gotten to know him, I realize they’re nothing alike.”

  “Then you’re in the clear.”

  Professor Mejia glanced their way. They fell silent until he turned around to write something on the board.

  “I dunno,” Pete said. “Part of me thinks it’s a bad omen. Christopher burned me. Like, tossed me onto a pyre and then pissed on the ashes.”

  “I remember that. You were a mess for weeks. You never told me what happened between you guys, though. Just that he dumped you in spectacular fashion.”

  Pete pretended to type something to cover the flash of pain that he was certain was visible on his face. “I don’t want to get into it. We just weren’t compatible.”

  The truth was a bit more complicated than that. A memory came unbidden to the forefront of Pete’s mind.

  “You’re disgusting. I can’t believe I ever let you—”

  He slammed a wall between himself and the memory, blocking it out. He swore under his breath. Nearly a year had passed, and he still had trouble thinking about it.

  “Well, fuck that guy,” Raj said, unwittingly echoing Pete’s train of thought. “Don’t let him ruin your future relationships. He’s not worth it. You know that girl I dated last summer?”

  Pete furrowed his brow in thought. “Sandra?”

  “The other one.”

  “Andrea?”

  “The other one.”

  “. . . Megan?”

  “Yes, that’s the one. Well, she was really good friends with Jess.”

  Pete stifled laughter with his hand. “The other girl you dated?”

  “Exactly. And see, Jess and I didn’t end well, so Megan could have totally held a grudge against me. Done the whole ‘sisters before misters’ thing or whatever. But she didn’t. She gave me a chance, and we dated for like six whole weeks as a result.”

  “You do realize that’s not anything like my situation, right?”

  “Sure it is. The overarching theme is the same: don’t let other people prevent you from pursuing someone you like. Yeah?”

  Pete nodded. “Yeah, I guess. That’s not the only thing holding me back, though.”

  Raj leaned closer, pretending to copy something from Pete’s notes, and whispered, “Oh?”

  “We’re . . . really different.”

  “Say it ain’t so!”

  “You don’t understand. He has this . . . charm, I guess. This magnetism and the personality to back it up. I’ve never even met any of his friends, but I’m willing to bet people flock to him. Honestly, if he reminds me of anyone anymore it’s my dad. No one was surprised when he fell in love with someone else. Women were always throwing themselves at him.”

  “When I ask this next question, please imagine it’s Oprah speaking. Do you think your early relationship with your father is shaping your relationships with men now?”

  Pete shoved him again.

  Raj looked unrepentant. “But for real, you think this guy might be a player?”

  Pete thought about all the posts he’d seen on Evan’s Facebook, all the messages from guys, and all the invitations to work with him. Evan had no shortage of options, but that didn't mean he acted on them. “I don’t know. I don’t want to jump to conclusions. I guess I just don’t understand why he’d choose to date me of all people. He could have anyone. Someone more confident. Less neurotic. More fun.”

  “Hey now,” Raj protested, “no one’s more fun than you.”

  Pete shot him a wry look.

  “Okay, so you might not be the most exciting person, but life isn’t all about wild parties and having the Best Night Ever every time.”

  “That so does not make me feel better.”

  “Look, you’re great, okay? You’re smart, and you’re down-to-earth, and you’re a loving friend. Also, as someone who has hung out with you and your mom, I know you’re a hell of a son. Even if it’s not this guy, someone out there thinks those are the absolute best qualities a person can have, and they are gonna fall so stupidly in love with you. I swear it.”

  Pete looked down at his desk and smiled. “Thanks, man. That’s sweet of you to say.”

  “What are friends for?” Raj clapped him on the back, wincing when he hit his shoulder blade. “Ouch. Eat a sandwich.”

  “Won’t help any.” He shrugged. “I can eat my face off and never gain an ounce.”

  “I hate you,” Raj said emphatically.

  “Don’t. My diet is shit. Skinny doesn’t automatically mean healthy.”

  “Speaking of food, your birthday is rolling around soon, right?”

  “Yeah. Three more weeks.”

  “Are we getting dinner? Celebrating? It’s the big two-one, right? You must be planning something.”

  Pete started to say no, but then his conversation with Evan
flashed into his mind.

  “Have a drink with me.”

  Was Evan serious about taking him for his first legal beer? If Evan would be there, suddenly celebrating didn’t sound so bad.

  Pete struggled to keep his tone casual. “I think I might get drinks with the boy. He wants to take me to his favorite bar.” He glanced at Raj for his reaction.

  He was staring wide-eyed at him like he’d just announced he intended to join a nunnery.

  Pete frowned. “What?”

  “Dude . . . are you in love?”

  “What?” Pete only barely managed to keep his voice down. “Why would you ask that?”

  “Because you, the most introverted person I know, are talking about celebrating a birthday with a guy you just met. I can’t even get you to go to a bar with me.”

  Pete sniffed. “That’s because I’m not old enough.”

  “Bullshit. Plenty of the bars around campus are lax about checking IDs. You don’t go because you hate crowds, loud music, and drunk people. And now you’re voluntarily subjecting yourself to all three. Must be love.”

  “It is not!”

  Raj ignored him. “So, is this an invite-only thing, or can I come too? I want to meet this guy who has you all head over heels.”

  “I am not head over heels. And no, you can’t come. I don’t want you scaring him off.”

  “Oh, come on,” Raj whined. “It’s your birthday! I promise I’ll behave.” He batted his inky eyelashes.

  Pete started to relent—he was a sucker for Raj’s puppy eyes—but then he remembered one very important detail: he’d met Evan through sex work. For anyone else, introducing a coworker to your friends was innocuous. But for him, it was an invitation for disaster. Someone was bound to ask what Evan did for a living, and Evan was out. He’d probably just tell them. Jesus.

  “Sorry,” Pete said, “but it’ll be a date sort of thing, so I can’t have my friends there. He already knows I’m awkward. If I bring you, it’ll seem like I need reinforcements.” The lie rolled smoothly off his tongue. It was unnerving.

  Raj shrugged and turned back toward the front of the lecture hall. “I get it. I’m not trying to cramp your style. We should still do something, though. Maybe the day after or whatever.”

  I don’t deserve such good friends.

  “Yeah, we should.” He looked guiltily down at his keyboard as Professor Mejia finished one anecdote about his hometown of Granada only to start another. Pete resolved to suck it up and go out with Raj sometime. If he couldn’t handle celebrating his birthday with his closest friend, how was he going to handle getting drinks with Evan?

  Poorly, said a snide mental voice.

  Class ended a half hour later. Pete said good-bye to Raj, but not before he promised him they would do something soon. Maybe even go to a club. The offer perked Raj up like a frat boy who’d just heard a keg being tapped. It assuaged Pete’s guilt a little.

  He went home, and after a quick conversation with his mom about how his day went (fine) and what he wanted for dinner (mac and cheese), he retreated to his room. He’d just thrown his bag onto his bed and unpacked his laptop when his phone dinged. He had it in his hand so fast, his brain lagged behind the movement, leaving him staring blankly at it.

  “I need to get out more,” he muttered to himself before turning on the home screen. Another text from Evan.

  Can I call you?

  If Pete were a more demonstrative person, he might have clicked his heels together with delight. He texted back: Absolutely.

  Not five seconds later, the call popped up. He let it ring twice before he answered it, not to be coy, but to relish the anticipation.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey. Did you get Colette’s email?”

  He frowned. “Not gonna ask how my day was?”

  “Right, sorry.” Evan sounded frazzled. “How was your day?”

  “It was good.” Pete sat on his bed and settled against the pillows. “Is something wrong?”

  “No.” There was a telling pause. “Not exactly. I was just wondering if you saw the new filming schedule Colette emailed to us.”

  “I did not. Did she send it to our personal emails, or—”

  “No, to our Murmur Inc. accounts.”

  “Oh, I haven’t checked mine today. Can you tell me what it said?”

  “We’re filming again soon.”

  “What day?”

  “Friday.”

  “Ah.” His stomach sank. “The day of our coffee date. We could go beforehand?”

  “No, she’s got us booked for first thing. We’d have to go at like five in the morning, and then be at the shoot immediately after. Seems kinda silly.”

  Anxiety sucker punched Pete in the gut. He hadn’t realized how much he’d wanted to hang out with Evan outside of work until the opportunity was ripped from him. It had felt right, somehow. Like it was something they needed to do before . . . He sighed. “I guess it can’t be helped. Did she say what we were going to be doing?”

  “She said we’re ready to start filming for real.”

  Pete’s stomach lurched. “Right. So, you and I are going to—”

  “Have sex.”

  They both fell silent. Seconds dragged on, feeling like claws into Pete’s skin as they passed.

  When the quiet became deafening, he forced himself to say, “We knew we were going to from the start.”

  “Yeah. And not to be weird, but . . . I want to.”

  Pete didn’t understand how his body could get so hot and so cold at the same time. “Me too. It just feels really—”

  “Soon.” Evan made an exasperated sound. “It’s not, though. If we’d been booked together in any other movie, we would have fucked already. There wouldn’t have been any photo shoots or filming sessions or anything. One and done. Never to see each other again.”

  “Yeah.” He wet his lips. “But we weren’t.”

  Evan didn’t respond.

  “Did she say for certain we’d be having sex this week?”

  “Not penetrative, no. She wants to film us doing other stuff first.” He hesitated. “She wants me to get you off. My character is more experienced than yours, after all. I’m supposed to show you the ropes. It’ll probably be a handjob or something.”

  “That sounds, um, good.” He meant it. Just listening to Evan mention sex was enough to turn him on. But he was still struggling to articulate whatever it was twisting his stomach into curlicues.

  He wanted this. He wanted Evan, but they’d just started to get to know one another, and suddenly, the fact that they were going to have sex was all too real. Sleeping with strangers on camera was one thing. Evan wasn’t a stranger anymore.

  Pete had just opened his mouth when Evan beat him to it. “I wish we had more time.”

  Pete closed his eyes. “Me too.”

  Evan sighed. “I have to go. I’ll see you in a few days.”

  He hung up before Pete could say another word.

  Friday came all too quickly, and Pete found himself back at Joyce’s house on a brisk, overcast morning. According to Colette, Heat Wave was going to pick up more or less where it had left off. Same setting, same story, same handful of people gathered together in the living room. Only now, everything felt different.

  When Pete walked in, Yolanda was setting up her camera, Colette was bent over her laptop, and Joyce waved at him from her seat at the kitchen table. Everyone was in their place.

  Including Evan. He was standing on his mark by the windows, bathed in early-morning sunlight. Set against a backdrop of aluminum sky and silhouetted in silver, his dark features were even more striking than usual.

  Pete took his place next to him without asking Colette. “Hey.” He tried not to fidget. It was hard to know how he was supposed to act. Despite the hesitations he’d expressed during their last phone conversation, he was still excited to be here. To be with Evan. But judging by the serious look on Evan’s face, the feeling might not be mutual.

  �
��Hey,” Evan said back. “How are you feeling?”

  “Tired. I don’t think I slept all week.” He had the dark circles under his eyes to prove it.

  “Me neither. I was thinking about you.”

  Pete slid his hands into his pockets. “Same.”

  “I feel like I should say something.”

  “Like what?”

  “That’s the thing.” Evan shook his head. “I have no idea. ‘No hard feelings’ keeps coming to mind, but that’s not right. I just— I don’t want you to think . . .” He raised his hand only to drop it, letting it hang limply at his side. “I don’t know. Just feels weird, I guess.”

  Guilt stabbed Pete right between the ribs. He didn’t know what he’d expected when he walked on set, but he’d thought he could at least count on Evan to be his usual devil-may-care self. His seriousness was ramping up Pete’s already-heightened anxiety.

  He tried to shrug it off. “You don’t have to say anything. We’ve both done this before, right? It’s no big deal.”

  Evan sighed. “Yeah. Right.”

  Pete gave him a sidelong look. “You, um, seem off.”

  “I feel off.”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “There’s nothing to say, to be honest.”

  Pete stared down at his feet. “Is it wrong that I’m excited to be here?”

  Evan finally turned toward him. “Of course not. Why would you think that?”

  “Because you seem so miserable. I don’t want to enjoy this if you’re not enjoying it with me.”

  “I’m not miserable, I promise. I’m being a brat. Throwing a tantrum because I didn’t get my way. Ignore me.”

  “I can’t.” Pete steeled himself. There was something he needed to say, something he’d been rehearsing in his head all week. He cleared his throat and did his best to appear casual. “You know you can leave, right?”

  Evan looked sharply at him. “What are you talking about?”

  “You can even blame it on me, if you want. I know you have bills to pay, same as everyone else, but you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. We don’t have to film today, or ever.”

  He watched the dust motes swirling in the sunlight streaming through the windows to avoid making eye contact with Evan. A moment later, something warm brushed his elbow. Evan’s hand.