Action

by Quinn Anderson

  You don’t have to give her Evan’s life story. Keep it simple. Vague.

  “Nothing happened, per se. That’s sort of the problem. I’m having boy trouble.”

  Mom pumped a fist in the air. “I knew it. My mom senses were tingling. You were spending far too much time brooding, even for you.”

  “Thank you for that,” he grumbled.

  “Sorry, honey.” Mom waved at the spot next to her on the couch. “Better tell me all about him.”

  He flopped down and sighed. “His name is Evan. He’s, um, a friend, but I think we’re about to become something more. Maybe.” He shook his head. “We haven’t discussed anything serious, but it’s pretty clear we’re into each other. We just can’t seem to get there.”

  Mom looked like she was trying not to smile. It reminded him of Evan, as most things did these days. “What’s holding you back? Did your date not go well?”

  “That’s the thing. It went great, right up until the end.” He fell silent. How was he going to explain what was wrong without saying Evan didn’t want to sleep with him? The answer was surprisingly easy: he wasn’t.

  She cocked her head. “Did he kiss you?”

  “Mooom,” Pete whined, face turning red. In his head, a voice answered, Yeah, and I was ready to do a lot more than that.

  “I’m not trying to embarrass you, I promise. Well, maybe a little.” She chuckled. “Call me old-fashioned, but that’s my litmus test for if a date went well. The proverbial Good Night Kiss.”

  That gave him an idea. “Actually, that’s the problem. He didn’t kiss me, and I really thought he was going to.” A kissing-is-sex metaphor. It was hardly original, but at least Bram Stoker would be proud of him. “Any idea why he didn’t?”

  “Lots of reasons. He didn’t feel like it. Or he didn’t think the moment was right. Or he was nervous or scared or not in the mood. A good-night kiss is a sign that a date went well, but it’s not obligatory.” She eyed him. “Do we need to have the consent talk again?”

  “I’ve had it with myself plenty of times tonight, trust me. I’m just worried that I did something wrong, you know?”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Well, I’m me, for one thing.” He shrugged. “I always think I’ve done something wrong. And also, you’d understand if you knew Evan. If ending the date with a kiss had been his plan, he would have done it.”

  “Did you make it clear you wanted him to? Consent works both ways, you know.”

  “I was forthright about it. At least, I think so.”

  “That doesn’t mean much,” she teased. “But on a serious note, I wouldn’t fret. It was only one date. I’m certain you’ll have another shot at a first kiss. And maybe after that there can be a first-time-meeting-Mom.” She nudged him with her elbow.

  His lips twitched up. “Of course.”

  “I know moms are supposed to say things like this, but keep in mind, if this boy doesn’t work out, it’s not the end of the world. You’ll meet someone else.”

  “People keep telling me that. I’m not sure if it makes me feel better or worse.”

  She laughed. “That’s because it’s true. You’re only twenty. You have so, so much time. More than you even know. Time to get your heart broken and to break some hearts in turn and to learn to be alone only to meet the perfect guy the next day. Trust me, I know. It’ll all work out, and when you look back on it, a first-date kiss will be one little step in a whole journey.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  She was right, although in this particular situation, there wasn’t time. Heat Wave wasn’t going to last forever. What would happen when they moved on to other projects? Got new costars and started having sex with them? They might miss their only chance to figure out if what they had was real or just one of Colette’s scripts come to life.

  He’d thought spending time together outside of work would help, but he was as confused as ever. They were trapped in this weird in-between area—no longer strangers, but definitely not boyfriends—that made his feet itch for solid ground.

  Mom broke him from his thoughts by patting him on the back. “Well, you certainly can’t do anything about it tonight. Sleep on it. Things will seem clearer in the morning.”

  “Yeah, okay.” He snorted. “I’ll just go to bed and definitely not lie awake thinking about it.”

  She ruffled his hair. “Men. Am I right?”

  “Yup.”

  “Love you.”

  “Love you too. Night.”

  He trotted upstairs and stood motionless in the middle of his room. His eyes traced over his furniture without really seeing it. His bed was normally his favorite place in the whole house, but right now it seemed utterly unappealing. Probably because he was so abuzz with thoughts of Evan, he wasn’t going to sleep anytime soon. The digital clock by his bed read, 12:26 a.m. That gave him a solid seven hours to dwell before the sun rose. Better get started.

  He emptied his pockets, setting his keys, wallet, and phone on his dresser. He checked the latter out of habit and froze. He had a text from Evan. How had he not felt his phone vibrate? It was practically one of his vital signs these days.

  He selected the text. Two seemingly innocuous words appeared on the screen: Still awake?

  Pete’s heart leaped into his throat. He typed back, Yes.

  Seconds passed in silence. Then, Can I call you?

  If it meant hearing Evan’s voice, Pete would talk about the mating call of the platypus right now.

  He didn’t bother replying. Instead, he found Evan’s name in his contacts list and hit the Call button. His heart tapped out a rough staccato rhythm against his ribs as it rang once, twice, three times.

  On the fourth ring, the line clicked. “Hello?”

  “Hey.” His voice cracked. Off to a good start. He cleared his throat. “I got your text.” He winced. It was like there was a record for unnecessary remarks he was trying to break.

  Evan laughed. “I figured as much. Were you sleeping?”

  “No. You?”

  “Not even close.”

  Pete attempted to say something smooth. “So, what’s up? Miss me already?”

  “More than I can say.”

  Pete’s heart was suddenly too big for his chest. “Were you calling to make sure I got home all right?” Please say no, he prayed. Say you want to talk things over. Or to explain yourself.

  “Actually, no, I wanted to explain myself.”

  Pete mouthed, Thank you, to the ceiling. “Explain what?”

  “I’m sure you can guess my general train of thought.”

  “Tell me anyway.”

  “I was thinking about you. About us. A slew of dirty thoughts, of course.” He chuckled, but his tone didn’t quite live up to the joke.

  Pete wet his lips. “Go on.”

  “I could have asked you to come home with me tonight. You would have said yes.” It wasn’t a question.

  Pete didn’t bother affirming what they both already knew. “It’s okay that you didn’t. I understand.”

  “I don’t think you do.” There was a shifting sound. Pete pictured Evan leaning forward with anticipation. “Pete, I wanted to ask you to come home with me. I wanted to so badly.”

  Words were burning on Pete’s tongue: Then why didn’t you? But he swallowed them. It didn’t seem like Evan was finished speaking.

  “There’s something I need to ask you,” Evan continued. “I already know the answer, but I want to hear you say it.”

  “Okay.”

  “Do you like me? As more than just a costar or someone you want to have sex with?”

  Pete didn’t hesitate. “I do.”

  Evan exhaled. “Well then. Do you have anything you want to say?”

  Pete felt the same energy between them that he’d felt earlier tonight. Potential, yearning to become kinetic. It was like Evan was waiting for something. Some kind of signal. But Pete had no idea what—

  It occurred to Pete that he’d been exception
ally dense.

  Evan had been trying to bring them closer from the start. He’d told Pete his real name before a first date had even been on the agenda, and during filming, he always made sure there was something just between them, something the cameras couldn’t see. But Pete had been an uncertain mess from the start. Evan was probably looking for Pete to meet him halfway or, more accurately, to take a single step forward after Evan had already chased him down the street.

  Well, if it was a move he wanted, Pete was about to make one.

  He switched his phone to his other ear. “Evan, there’s something I need to tell you. Something I’ve known for a while without actually knowing it, if that makes sense.”

  “It does, in a weird way. Tell me.”

  “I feel like we did this whole thing out of order. Running before walking. Fucking before holding hands, you know? Not that our relationship was ever going to be traditional, but . . . there’s one thing I want to do the right way.”

  “What’s that?”

  Heart pounding, Pete said, “I don’t want the first time I have sex with you to be in front of a camera. I don’t want an audience. I want it to be just you and me.”

  The silence that descended between them was magnetic. Pete actually took a half step forward, as if that would bring him closer to Evan.

  Evan exhaled sharply, and then, in a voice that was as raw and vulnerable as an exposed nerve, he said, “My place?”

  Pete looked at his clock again. “Tonight?”

  “Right now.”

  All the air left Pete’s lungs at once. The reality of Evan’s words soaked into him like warm sunlight. This was really going to happen. He’d have to sneak past his mom to get out, something he’d never done even in his formative years. But as the logistics spun out in his head, he realized there was nothing he wouldn’t do to get to Evan.

  “Text me your address.” He had no idea where Evan lived, but he was willing to bet he’d make it there in record time.

  “Okay. I’ll be waiting.”

  “Not for long.”

  They hung up, and within seconds, Evan sent him directions to his apartment in Glendale. Pete could be there in less than twenty minutes. A frisson of excitement spread through him. And to think, Mom had told him to sleep on it. The very idea of going to any bed but Evan’s was unthinkable.

  Still in his club clothes, he snatched his keys off the dresser and dashed downstairs, already rehearsing the excuse he’d give Mom. There was an emergency. A big one. No time to explain.

  To his relief, however, he found her asleep in front of the TV. She must’ve been exhausted. He paused long enough to drape an old quilt over her before he crept out the front door and locked it behind him.

  The drive was agony. It took everything he had not to speed like earlier. He could just imagine what he’d say if he got pulled over: Officer, I’m so sorry I was speeding, but I have a good reason. I’m about to have wild sex with a guy I really like. That might not go over so well.

  Gradually, the industrial city center melted into the greener, residential areas. Boutiques morphed into shopping plazas, bars became grocery stores, and office buildings transformed into manicured parks.

  Focused as he was on his destination, he didn’t realize how nervous he was until he pulled into a parking lot next to a row of brick buildings. A stone sign out front read, Ocean Villas. He stepped out of his car and spent a second just staring at the neat buildings. Evan was waiting for him behind one of the white doors. What would it be like to finally be with him? What sort of lover was he when he wasn’t performing for a camera? Pete’s mouth watered at the prospect of finding out.

  He found the correct building and raced up a black metal staircase to the second floor. He passed three doors before he came upon the one he wanted: number 1226. His pulse thundered in his ears as he raised his hand to knock. His knuckles rapping against the wood were barely audible.

  It must have been loud enough, though, because he hadn’t even lowered his hand yet when the door opened. Evan stood on the threshold in what Pete could only assume were his pajamas: an old T-shirt and soft-looking gray sweatpants. His hair was sticking up in places, like he’d run his fingers through it one too many times. They stared at each other. Tension sprang up between them so thickly, it crept into Pete’s lungs with every breath.

  “You came,” Evan said, eyes wide.

  “Nothing could have kept me away.”

  Evan sucked in a breath and then wordlessly stepped back, making room for Pete to enter. Pete almost stumbled in his haste to follow after him.

  When he was inside, Evan closed the door. Pete took in the small apartment in a sweep. They were standing in a living room with gray walls, tile floors, and large windows. The furniture was simple and modern, and there were black-and-white photos of the city on the walls. It both suited Evan and didn’t. Pete couldn’t quite put his finger on it. It was like looking at a catalog picture of a typical young man’s living room. It lacked Evan’s ineluctable personality.

  Stop analyzing his wall art and make a move, he scolded himself. He turned to face Evan.

  Evan looked more handsome than Pete had ever seen, even more so than when he was on set with stylists and makeup artists and hand-picked costumes. He looked like himself, not his character. And there was something powerfully erotic about that.

  Evan was watching him, clearly sizing him up. Pete swallowed and tried to think of something to say, something about how long he’d wanted this, how much it meant to him. Words buzzed in his head, but he couldn’t get them to form a sentence. Then Evan took a step forward, cupped his chin, and kissed him.

  Pete’s thoughts muted as if someone had pressed a button. It was more than that, though. Time stood still. Pete could scarcely breathe from the electric intensity of Evan’s touch. It felt like a first kiss, and in a way it was: their first kiss that was just for them, without anyone else around. No audience, no acting, no pressure. Pete drew a ragged breath and almost sobbed when Evan tilted his head, finding the perfect angle. When Evan’s tongue laved his bottom lip, Pete swore he’d never experienced anything so profound.

  He tried to give back as good as he got, but he couldn’t focus. His lips were operating on autopilot, he was so caught up in letting himself feel. He must’ve been doing a fair enough job, though, because he could hear Evan breathing hard, could feel the rise and fall of his chest against him.

  Through the haze of arousal blanketing his thoughts, Pete was able to determine one thing: he wanted more.

  Acting on instinct, he grabbed Evan’s biceps and walked him back. Three steps later, Evan’s shoulder blades connected with the door. Pete cherished the surprised look on his face for a moment before he pounced. Evan was hot and solid against him, sinew and muscle. He got as close to him as he could, pressing their bodies flush, wanting to feel every inch of him.

  “Fuck,” Evan mumbled against his mouth, “that was really hot.”

  Pete kissed Evan like he needed his mouth to breathe. Even with their height difference, their bodies seemed to line up just right. Evan suddenly bucked his hips, and his erection rubbed against Pete’s.

  Holy shit. Pete’s vision blurred. He must not have been the only one, because Evan moaned and started shuffling them farther into the apartment.

  They stumbled a few times—especially Pete, who was toeing his shoes off as they went—but they managed to make it to the sofa. Evan gripped his shoulders like he intended to maneuver him onto it, but Pete beat him to it. He grabbed a handful of Evan’s shirt and dragged him down on top of him.

  Evan’s weight felt phenomenal. So comforting and yet so incredibly arousing. Pete wrapped his arms around him and buried his face in Evan’s neck, breathing in Evan’s salt-and-soap smell.

  Evan dragged his lips down Pete’s throat, and the scrape of his stubble was exactly as Pete had imagined. It set his nerves on fire.

  “I almost can’t believe I finally have you here.” Evan kissed the hollow of
his throat. “Everything you do feels so good. Even just being under me is,” he shivered, “fuck.”

  Pete tried to respond, but Evan’s hand found its way into his shirt, and his words caught in his throat. He gasped out, “Oh God, yes. Can you move just a little—” Pete shifted one of his legs out from under Evan until his knees were on either side of him. Evan sank into the space between his thighs, and they both groaned.

  “That’s perfect.” Evan rolled his hips, and their clothed erections came together. He repeated the motion, and dragged his blunt fingernails down Pete’s stomach. The dual sensations left Pete speechless.

  Evan nipped at his throat. “You like that?”

  “Evan, more,” he ground out, squirming under his fingers.

  “That wasn’t a yes.” Evan reached for his jeans. “Say it.”

  Pete had to force himself to keep still when all he wanted was to arch up into his touch. “Yes, Evan, it feels so good.” Evan’s fingers were almost where he wanted them. He canted his hips up, desperate for friction.

  “You’re so eager.” Evan kissed him again, a sweet slide of lips. “We have all night. I plan to take my time with you.”

  Pete gasped as Evan unzipped his jeans, fingers brushing against his cock through the material. Belatedly, Pete wished he’d thought to put on something sexier than plain, white boxers. Something like what Evan had worn when—

  “You’re thinking again,” was all the warning he got before Evan shucked his pants down to his thighs like a magician yanking a tablecloth out from beneath a dinner setting.

  “Oh God.” Arousal throbbed deeply between Pete’s legs. He scrambled to push his boxers down too, freeing his erection. It bobbed up, ruddy with blood even though Pete would swear all his blood was in his face right now.

  Evan made no secret of looking at him, eyes raking up and down from his face to his cock to his spread thighs and back up again. Pete could only imagine the picture he presented: splayed out on the sofa, panting, and bleary with arousal.

  Evan didn’t give him a chance to feel self-conscious, however. He kissed down his body, starting at his neck and ending at his waist. Once there, he swirled his tongue around his bellybutton, nibbled on his hip bones, and stroked the insides of his legs. In short, he did everything but what Pete wanted him to do.