by Ally Blue
“I don’t care. I’ll eat anything.” Nat stuck a hand into the backpack and came up with a bag of kettle chips, which he tore into with gusto. “I love kettle chips. Pick whatever sandwich you want and hand me one of the others. I seriously don’t care.”
While Nat crunched chips, Rafael took the hummus sandwich for himself and handed Nat the roast beef. “All I brought to drink is bottled water. I hope that’s okay.”
“That’s fine.” Nat took the water Rafael handed him. “Thanks for bringing lunch.”
“My pleasure.” Rafael smiled, suddenly feeling shy. “Thanks for sharing this place with me. It’s amazing.”
Nat blushed. He hunched forward until his shoulder-length hair hid his face behind a shining blond curtain. “It’s nice to have somebody to share it with. I’m usually by myself.”
Rafael’s chest tightened. He scooted closer to Nat. Only a little bit. Enough to catch the sharp scent of his sweat. “One of these days, when you come to Hollywood, I’ll take you to all the best places. The secret spots, right? The ones nobody knows about except guys like me, who grew up there.”
“Yeah?”
“Hell yeah.”
Nat cast him a glance full of longing and despair. “What makes you think I’m ever going to Hollywood?”
“Because you belong there. You’re talented, you’re on a hugely popular show, and eventually someone’s gonna notice.” Like me. He kept that to himself. It wasn’t time yet.
The color that had faded from Nat’s cheeks came rushing back. He laughed, obviously at a loss for words.
Rafael didn’t push it. He kept casting sidelong looks at Nat as they ate, watching him gaze out at the water while the wind ruffled his hair. He’d caught Rafael’s attention from the start, with his stillness and his economy with words. It was so different from the typical Hollywood behavior. That blush, though . . . That was just plain cute.
Rafael smiled as he popped the last bite of sandwich into his mouth. He’d never seen Nat let his defenses drop before. He found it unexpectedly charming.
Nat polished off his roast beef and pulled the chicken sandwich out of the bag. “You want to split this one?”
“Yeah, sure.” Rafael took his half of the sandwich in both hands. “Thanks.”
“They make their own bread, you know.” Nat took a big bite, chewed, and swallowed. “So. Are you gonna ask whatever it is you want to ask?”
Taken off guard, Rafael stopped with the chicken sandwich halfway to his mouth and gaped at Nat. “Huh?”
“C’mon, I’m not stupid. You’ve been here for months, man. If you really wanted somebody to show you the sights, you’d’ve asked already.” Nat drank from his water bottle, angling it so his wolf eyes stayed focused on Rafael. “I wouldn’t have brought you up here if I wasn’t at least curious. So, go ahead. Unless you wanted to lecture me about staying away from Solari, in which case shut up.”
Rafael let out a nervous laugh. “I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you say at one time.”
Nat’s stare turned cold. “Rafael. What. Do. You. Want.”
Shit. Rafael straightened his spine and made himself hold Nat’s gaze. “I’m trying to get my name out there as a director, and, well . . . I’d love it if you’d work with me. As an actor, I mean. I’m working on a film right now that you’re perfect for. The script’s finished, I’ve done some exterior sample shots, now I need my lead so I can get some sample shots of key scenes to put up on Kickstarter. And I really, really want you to be my lead.”
Shock slackened Nat’s features. “Seriously?”
“Yeah.”
“I didn’t know you were a director.”
“Well. I’m trying.” Rafael smiled. “It’s what I’ve always wanted to do, ever since I was a kid.”
Nat bit into his sandwich and chewed for a while, peering out over the water. Not knowing what to say, Rafael did the same.
“What about your family?” Nat’s question was quiet, without inflection. “What do they think about that?”
“They’re great. They’ve always supported me.” Rafael shot a quick, curious look at Nat’s unrevealing profile. “Lots of people don’t have that. I’m one of the lucky ones.”
Nat’s mouth twisted in a wry smile. “Yeah. You are.” He rolled up the rest of his sandwich half in its paper wrapping, stuffed it back in the bag, and rose to his feet. “You ready to go back?”
No, said Rafael’s gut, the part that wanted to sit here with Nat all day, talking and soaking up the sunshine. Maybe touch him again.
“Sure,” he said out loud, because something had clearly changed for Nat that made him want to leave, and Rafael didn’t feel comfortable arguing the point.
They packed up the remains of the food and the trash. Rafael took the backpack this time, insisting that he was perfectly capable of carrying the lighter load downhill. Nat didn’t seem to care, his attention focused inward and his previous good mood swallowed up in a gloom that encased him like a storm cloud.
Studying Nat’s stiff back as they made their way downhill, Rafael remembered the phone call he’d partially overheard days earlier, and he wondered. He hadn’t caught much, but he’d heard Nat say “Dad” at least once, and he’d never forget the sound of Nat’s voice—frustrated, sad, angry, and afraid. So horribly afraid.
He’s never talked about his family before.
The realization struck Rafael with the force of a blow. Sure, he didn’t know Nat very well. Hadn’t spent that much time with him. And Nat seemed reticent by nature. But in Raphael’s experience, most people at least mentioned their families in passing once you got to know them. Nat hadn’t breathed a word before today. Even now, all Rafael knew—well, all Nat had actually told him—was that Nat’s mother had died when he was a child, and he had a sister somewhere. Raphael’s meager knowledge about Nat’s father was dishonestly gained and shouldn’t count.
When they emerged onto the main trail from which Nat had branched off hours ago, he stopped and faced Rafael. “I’ll be in your movie. Why not, right?”
Rafael’s heartbeat stuttered, stumbled, and recovered, running too fast. “Fantastic.” Grinning, he held out his hand. “Thank you.”
Nat shook Rafael’s hand, some of the light coming back to his eyes. “Glad I could make your day, Hollywood.”
Rafael laughed, giddy with relief. Not to mention the tingles racing over his skin when Nat touched him. He’d been sure Nat had forgotten about the offer. Or simply didn’t want to do it. “We’ll get together during lunch at work and hammer out the details. Okay?”
“Okay.” Nat retrieved his hand, his lips twitching into a smile. “Come on, we need to get back to the trailhead. It’s gonna pour buckets in a little while.”
Rafael floated along at Nat’s side, riding high on his minor victory. He had his star. Now, all he had to do was crack Nat’s hard shell, and he’d have a supernova on his hands.
After the day of the hike, Nat surprised himself by falling into the habit of eating lunch with Rafael nearly every day. A nagging little voice in his head—the one that sounded like his dad—told him he’d end up regretting this crazy new friendship. That a Hollywood type like Rafael, with his expensive haircut, his gym-rat body, and his happy, supportive family, could never see a nobody like Nat as his equal.
Another, growing part of him silenced those doubts a little more each day, because Nat liked Rafael. He was nice. He was easy to talk to. Best of all, he didn’t seem to care that Nat was a scruffy average Joe with too much responsibility and not enough money. In fact, he ate up Nat’s tales of life in Bluewater Bay like candy. Which was weird, honestly, but hey, different strokes and all that. Nat loved stories about Hollywood almost as much. Probably because Raphael showed it to him not as a magic fairyland, but as a real place, its flaws making it more interesting, not less.
Sometimes, Nat would watch Raphael while they ate and wonder what made someone like him tick. Where did he get his energy? What fed that en
dless well of optimism? Didn’t he ever want to lie down someplace where no one could find him and give up?
Times like that, when Nat got caught up in studying Rafael’s open, animated face, he’d find himself stretching a hand across the table to touch him. To see if the heady, exhilarating rush from that day on Bayside Ridge was still there.
It was. Every time.
“Nat? Anybody home?”
Nat blinked and focused on Rafael’s concerned frown across from him. He pulled his hand back, fingers still tingling from brushing Rafael’s skin. “Yeah. Sorry. I guess I zoned out for a second.”
“I saw.” Setting his fork in the middle of his half-finished pork fried rice, Rafael planted his elbows on the table and leaned forward. “What’re you thinking about, Nat? Is everything all right?”
Nat heard the silent questions beneath the ones Rafael asked out loud, like he had several times over the past week or so that they’d been getting together for lunch. Rafael worried about him. He’d probably figured out that Nat was dealing with stuff at home, but not what exactly, because Nat hadn’t told him. Had no plans to tell him. Even if there was some actual, concrete thing he could do to help—which there wasn’t—hard experience with a former “friend” had taught Nat that he probably wouldn’t, in spite of whatever good intentions he had. Nat wasn’t about to put himself through the specific, horrific agony of asking for help—not even money, just time—and being awkwardly turned down, then avoided at every turn by the person who’d pretended he’d wanted to help Nat after his dad’s accident but wormed out of it when given the opportunity.
Never again. Nope.
“I’m fine.” Nat gave Rafael the grin that always made Rafael stare at him like a rabbit surprised by a hunting dog. “I was thinking about the role you gave me. You made me pretty sexy, mister director.” And soulful. And fascinatingly flawed. In fact, Rafael’s script was seriously impressive. Not that Nat had any experience with movie scripts, but he knew what he liked.
Rafael hunched his shoulders, his cheeks going pink. Which was annoyingly cute, damn it. “Yeah, well. You can pull it off. That’s why I wanted you for that role. You have this . . .” He circled his hands in the air, like he wanted to conjure the words he was looking for. “I dunno. It’s the way you move. Like liquid. And the way you can stand perfectly still, but still give this sense of potential movement. It’s perfect for the character of Roland. I knew it the second I saw you.”
Nat stared into Rafael’s shining eyes, his pulse thumping in his throat. No one had ever said anything like that about him. He didn’t know how to respond.
“Hey, Nat.” Anna’s voice broke the moment before it could get any more awkward.
He turned toward her, relieved. “Hi, Anna. What’s up?”
She plopped onto the bench beside him, smiling. “We have some lines for you.”
His heart tried to leapfrog up his throat. “Seriously? That’s awesome! Oh my God.” He felt himself go red, but damn, he was only human. How could he not get excited about this? “Um. Thank you, Anna. For real.”
“Hey, I’m a winner here, too. I don’t do anything that’s not good for the show.”
“I know. I swear I won’t let you down.”
The teasing sparkle in her eyes softened. “I know you won’t.” She patted his hand, and morphed into the serious businesswoman he knew she was inside. “Listen, the episode we’ve written your lines for is filming in the next couple of days, so we need you on set tonight to rehearse with Solari and Carter. Five thirty. Can you do that? It should only be for a couple of hours, if all goes well.”
His stomach dropped. His uncle had him scheduled to work a fishing charter on the boat tonight—job number two, not that it paid well. Still, some months it meant the difference between real food and all peanut butter sandwiches all the time.
But this role could be a real break for him. If he played his cards right, it could lead to more lines. Which might mean more roles beyond Werewolf Number Three.
Real money. Hollywood-type money.
“I’ll be there,” he said, because how could he not? Besides, he might still make it to the dock in time for the charter. They weren’t scheduled to sail until seven forty-five. It was a tight timeline, and he’d probably run a few minutes late, but most clients ran a little late themselves. It would be fine.
“Excellent.” Anna stood. “See you tonight, then.”
Rafael cleared his throat. “Anna? That is, Ms. Maxwell?”
She peered at Rafael, still smiling. “Yes? What can I do for you?”
He rose to his feet, looking more nervous than Nat had ever seen him. “I’m Rafael Cortez, ma’am. Solari Praveen’s assistant. I wonder if I could have a few minutes of your time to speak to you about something very important to me.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “I’m afraid I don’t donate to anyone’s sponsored charities. I can’t play favorites on the set.”
Transparent horror widened his eyes. Nat stifled a laugh.
“No, no, that’s not . . .” Rafael sighed. “I’m a director, ma’am. I have several independent projects under my belt. But I would love to work on something with a bit more heft, and, well. You’re sort of my hero. I mean, not in a fanboy kind of way, but in the sense that I admire and respect your work, and I’d like to talk to you about maybe . . .” His voice grew softer. A little unsure. “Maybe working with you? A little bit? Like maybe in an apprentice sort of role?”
Silence fell. Anna gaped at Rafael like she had no idea what to do with what he’d said. Which was probably true.
Rafael seemed to shrink with every age-long second that ticked by, the hope in his face fading into misery. Nat ached for him. Nothing hurt quite like laying your dreams at the feet of the one person who could destroy them, then having that person tear them to ribbons.
After what felt like forever, Anna let out a short, sharp laugh. “Wow. Sorry, you took me by surprise. You have hidden depths, Mr. Cortez. I’d be happy to talk with you, sure. Come by my office later today and we’ll set up an appointment. I’ll want to see some of your work.”
Rafael beamed like a spotlight. “I’ll do that. Yes.” He grabbed her hand and shook it. “Thank you, Ms. Maxwell.”
“Anna. Please.” She gently retrieved her hand. “See you tonight, Nat.”
“Looking forward to it.” Nat watched Rafael bounce on his toes, grinning ear to ear as Anna walked away. His unabashed joy was contagious. Nat rubbed at the warmth spreading in his chest. “Good going there, Hollywood. You’re a bold man.”
“Thanks.” Rafael laughed, the sound high and breathless. “I can’t believe I did that. But I saw my chance, and I had to take it. You know?”
Nat nodded. A spur-of-the-moment decision exactly like that had led him to try out for a spot as an extra on Wolf’s Landing. Which had ultimately led him to here, now, with his first speaking role. Maybe he should be impulsive more often.
Rafael was still talking. “Anyway, yeah, I’ve been wanting to meet with Anna for a long time now, get her opinion on my work, and see if she’ll let me work with her. There’s just so much she can teach me.” He paused, his gaze fixing on Nat in sudden realization. “Oh, hey, you’re getting a speaking part! Congratulations, man, that’s fantastic.”
Predictably, Nat’s whole face went hot. He hunched his shoulders. “Thanks. It’s pretty cool.”
Rafael’s expression said it was way more than cool and they both knew it. Nat stared at the scuffed tabletop, embarrassed. Sometimes he wished he could be like Rafael, all bouncy and openly enthusiastic about things, but that wasn’t him. Praise, compliments, and most other sorts of positive attention always made him want to hide. He’d never understood his own reaction, but there it was.
A mew from Rafael’s phone—his text tone, which Nat found hilarious—saved Nat from whatever else Rafael might’ve said. Rafael fished his phone out of his pocket, read the text, and scowled. “Crap. I have to go. Solari’s not going to have time to
break for lunch. She needs me to pick up some food for her.”
“Okay.” Nat stood and leaned over to check the time on Rafael’s phone, using the opportunity to take a surreptitious sniff of Rafael’s warm male scent. Mmm. “I should head out anyway. I’m supposed to be on set in the forest location in an hour.”
“See you tomorrow, then?”
“Yeah.” Nat studied Rafael’s face glowing with happiness, and wished he could bring himself to give his friend a big hug. Maybe see how much more intense that zing got with full-body contact. “I hope the meeting with Anna goes great. You deserve this chance.”
Rafael smiled wide, the bright, dimpled smile that made Nat’s heart go thud. “Thanks. You too, Nat. I want to hear all about rehearsal tomorrow.” He turned and hurried toward the food, waving at Nat over his shoulder. “Bye!”
Nat waved back before heading off to meet the shuttle that would take him to the forest set. For the first time in ages, his spirit felt light. Buoyant. Like he could fly to the sun if he wanted.
Sliding his sunglasses over his eyes, he strode toward the parking lot. This day was turning out to be pretty damn good.
When Nat arrived at the dock that night—only ten minutes late, thanks to pushing his old truck to its limit—his uncle’s boat was gone.
He stood on the dock, scowling at the open water while his good mood from rehearsal dissolved like sugar in an open flame. He’d been late before, but this was the first time Uncle Jeff had left without him.
Dread churning in his stomach, Nat pulled his phone out of his jacket and speed-dialed Uncle Jeff’s number. He couldn’t possibly have gotten out of cell range yet.
Sure enough, his uncle picked up on the fourth ring, right before it would’ve gone to voice mail. “Nat. Where the hell were you?” Excited voices and laughter formed a backdrop to Jeff’s gravelly voice.
“I was running a little behind.” Nat did his best to sound calm, though it wasn’t easy when judgment and contempt were oozing like sludge through the phone. “You couldn’t wait ten fucking minutes?”
