by M. J. O'Shea
“Money is good. So what’s a concrete item that shows his money?”
“The handbag.” That damn thing was the bane of Blair’s existence, and it probably showed.
“Okay, so that handbag is a shield. Have him wield it like one. Don’t cower behind it, though, charge forward with it. I used my letterman’s jacket like that a lot. When I had it, nobody could touch me.”
Blair tried to breathe through Sander’s light grip on his hands. He thought he might die, but he took a long breath in. Ryder. You’re Ryder.
“Okay,” Sander said. “What else. He has to have more than just one shield.”
“I guess his friends. So Brooke and Joey and Kelly.”
“But Kelly hasn’t been around lately, has he?”
Blair cocked his head to the side. “Are you watching the show now?”
Sander chuckled. “Maybe. Tell me about how Ryder is handling his loss of Kelly.”
“So, I guess he’s insecure without Kelly around, and he deals with it by retaliating. Being awful to Brooke and Joey, and really awful to everyone else.”
“Right. He’s trying to ruin Kelly’s relationship. Get Mack.”
“But he doesn’t really want Mack. He’s convinced himself that he does, but he really wants Kelly back.”
“Exactly.”
“So every time someone makes Ryder feel insecure, he retaliates.” Blair nodded. “You’re right. That’s how it’s written in the script.”
“Good. Then you have to feel that retaliation when Ryder talks. So Robbie wants to get money from him, he’s crowding Ryder, making him nervous….”
“You were there today?”
“Yeah, for a few takes. How should Ryder react? Let me see his face.”
Blair schooled his face into icy disdain. “You’ll get your money. I just don’t have it on me. I’m not some skeezy dealer who has to carry cash around school like that.”
“Yes. Use your money as a shield. You don’t have cash, you have cards and accounts. Robbie isn’t scary. You’re better than him.”
“Yeah. I think I can use that. Thank you.”
Sander wasn’t saying anything Xara hadn’t said or Dakota hadn’t written in his notes, but for some reason, hearing it Sander’s way made sense to him. Blair looked down to where Sander was still holding his hands, rubbing his thumb back and forth.
“Hi.” Blair couldn’t believe he’d just said that.
“Hey,” Sander said back. He smiled, his smile shy for once. “So, um, Blair. I kind of said it the other night, but I didn’t really say it.”
“Say what?” Blair leaned against the armrest of the Adirondack, closer to Sander. He always wanted to be closer. He thought Sander had drifted closer too, but he couldn’t be sure. He could smell him, though, warm and soapy with that small hint of vanilla and sandalwood. Blair loved how Sander smelled. He’d never gotten close enough to know when they were younger, but now he could pick it out pretty much anywhere.
“Remember when you said I didn’t notice you in high school?”
“Oh, well. You know. We were neighbors. Of course you kinda knew who I was.”
“That’s not what I mean, Blair.”
Blair just sat there silently for a long time before he gathered the courage to look up and ask point-blank, “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I’m gay.”
Blair choked. “You’re going to have to repeat that for me.”
“I’m gay. Always have been. My girlfriend knew I was gay the entire time we were together. We were just really good friends. We’re still really good friends.” Sander smirked. “She was my shield, remember?”
“Seriously?” Blair choked. He stared hard. Despite what Tony and Jenna and Flynn said, he’d never seen any interest in Sander’s eyes toward men. “Seriously?” he repeated. Sander nodded. “But I always thought you were straight.”
Sander shrugged. “And I always thought you were adorable.” He detangled one of their hands, reached out, and cupped Blair’s face with his huge, warm palm. He rubbed his thumb across Blair’s cheek and leaned forward until their lips brushed together.
Blair didn’t know how to react at first. It was… Jesus, it was beyond description, beyond words, beyond action other than to fucking kiss him back. Sander fucking Christiansen was kissing him; of course he was supposed to kiss back. And so he did. Blair dragged his palms up Sander’s warm, fuzzy forearms, over shoulders rounded with muscle and sinew, and into his thick honey-gold fall of hair. Part of him, okay a pretty huge part of him, was in the middle of spinning hard, wondering how it was even possible that any of this was happening—his life, this moment, Sander, Sander, Sander.
The other part of him reveled in Sander’s kiss, in plush lips and a soft touch across his cheekbone. Sander knew exactly how to kiss. Blair was totally and completely lost.
Chapter Eight
TV Tiffany back again with one of my favorite topics for a dreary Monday. Hotties. Who am I kidding? We’ve nearly hit the halfway point on drama-filled season one of Coconut Cove, and I for one feel it’s given us enough time to let the beauty sink in. I’m finally ready to talk boys, and by boys I mean who’s the best dressed, who fills out his swimsuit, and who I’d like to wake up in the morning with a bit of my own brand of Southern sweet tea. Best dressed goes to Robbie. His bad-boy jeans and those turned-up collars get my juices flowing. I could see him on a D&G runway in a heartbeat. He doesn’t fool me with the day-old scruff and scowly glare. That boy is high fashion.
Tied in the swimsuit competition are Hudson and Mack. Both of those guys have pumped some serious iron to get those ripped-out bods. Maybe it’s time I head down to Coconut Cove and volunteer for sunscreen duty. C’mere, boys, time to lather up! Cutie-pie award definitely goes to Joey. I just wanna tuck his flippy little sun-bleached curls behind his ears and kiss him on the cheek. Hopefully bad boy Robbie wants to take a break from his smoldering to do the same. I’ve been waiting for that kiss since episode one. Oh and Ryder. Watch me swoon all over the place. If he ever used those big heartbreaker eyes for good instead of evil, I would show him my tamales in a hot second! I’ve heard rumors that Blair Fletcher, who plays Ryder, is as sugary sweet as they come and completely opposite of his character. If that’s really the case, then call me!
xoxo
Tiff
“OH GOD. Did you see that TV Tiffany gossip column, or whatever, yesterday?” Blair put his head in his hands. “All those swimsuit pictures. My mom is emailing the links to every aunt and cousin I have. I’m pretty sure I’m going to die of embarrassment. Like, now.”
Sander, Blair, and a few others had one of their rare lunch breaks at the same time. They’d gathered on the empty courtyard set with green salads and waters from craft services—well, except Sander, who had a huge sandwich, pasta salad, and a brownie. Blair eyed them enviously.
Tony snorted and ruffled Blair’s hair. “She’s awesome. She’s been such a publicity boost for us. I’m kinda tired of being the cutie pie, but I guess that’s my lot in life.”
Levi shrugged. “You could be prematurely balding and cast as the math teacher.” He rolled his eyes at Tony’s vanity, always wanting to be seen as older and hotter instead of little and cute. Blair had heard him go on and on about the same topic many times.
“Thanks, boyfie,” Tony muttered. Levi laughed. It was a running joke between them that they were going to end up dating in real life. Half the fans thought they were. If Tony wasn’t doing Blair, that was. The rampant shipping seemed to be fairly even between the two pairs. Blair thought it was funny. Both of them were really good friends of his, but more in the “you could be my brother” way than anything even remotely romantic.
How could he think of anyone else that way after spending every private moment of the last two weeks with his face suctioned to Sander’s? The kisses had grown more and more steamy, and damn, they kissed whenever they could. At home, late at night after Blair’s mom was long asleep, in hidden corner
s on set—which turned out to be not so hidden when Jenna walked in on them and laughed so loud half the film crew came to see what was so funny.
A FEW hours later, after he was cleaned up and out of costume for the day, Blair was still a little embarrassed by the pictures splashed all over the internet of him in a swimsuit. True, they were mostly shots from the actual show, but a few were taken when the cast had gone to the beach on their own and he’d been lounging on a huge rainbow beach towel with Tony. It probably looked romantic, even though it was anything but. Blair wanted to cringe in general. He and Sander happened to be leaving set at the same time, which wasn’t very common, so he tossed his old bike in the back of Sander’s truck and hopped into the cab. It was a balmy night. Sometimes the winter nights got a bit nippy, even in the tropics, but not that night. Blair rolled down the window and stuck his hand out to catch the air. The fans had given up, probably hours before, so the entrance was deserted except for the night guard, Ernie. Sander and Blair both waved sleepily at him.
“You seem worn-out,” Sander said. “More than usual.”
“It was a long day. Howie was being a jackass.” Sander raised an eyebrow. “Okay, more of one than usual. Like, I get that he’s irritated that I have a bigger story line than him right now, but he gets days off, and that stuff always cycles on shows like this, doesn’t it?”
“I have no idea. What I do know is it’s not your fault, and he has no reason to be a dick to you because he’s not getting his way. It’s not rational.”
“Right. That’s stopped Howie how many times? I’m going to go with never.”
Sander reached over and cupped a hand on Blair’s leg. “You know what would make you feel better?”
“A fifth of tequila?” Like he’d ever do that. Not on a bathing-suit week anyway. Whitney and Xara would have his ass for showing up bloated and hungover, no matter how much Howie pissed him off.
“No. A massage.”
Blair grinned, still not sure exactly when he got so lucky as to have Sander offering him massages and kisses and comfort. “You know where I could get one of those?” he asked with a smirk.
“Smartass. I think I can find a place.”
BY THE time they pulled up in front of Sander’s house, some of Blair’s irritation had faded. He slid out of the truck and landed with a soft thud on his feet. It took a lot of energy to pull his bike out of the back of the truck.
“Wow, that was sad,” he muttered.
“More time in the gym?”
Just the thought of working out made Blair want to die. “More time in the sack is more like it.”
“Really?” Sander smirked.
“Shut it. Hey, lemme go tell my mom that I made it home. Then I’ll come over. Jesus, I feel like a twelve-year-old.”
“Maybe she has cookies and milk out for you.”
“Like you wouldn’t like that.”
“True. If she does, can you bring them over with you?”
Blair shoved Sander lightly. “Not after you insulted me. I’m keeping the damn cookies.”
“But you’re not allowed to eat them. It would be a waste.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t. I’m giving you a massage. Now scamper. I’ll leave the door unlocked. My parents are in Miami for the week anyway.”
“I feel like a loose woman.”
“Oh my God.” Sander chuckled. “Now I know why I didn’t talk to you in high school.”
Blair giggled and wheeled his bike over to the side of the house. He disappeared inside with a quick wave.
“HEY, I’M here,” Blair called when he walked into Sander’s place a few minutes later.
“Back here. Come on in!”
Sander’s bedroom. The mystical place Blair had only dreamed of visiting when they were kids. He couldn’t believe he was actually in the inner sanctuary of hotness. Had he been fifteen still, he probably would’ve gone ahead and passed right out. But big grown-up TV-star Blair kept his cool. Mostly.
“H-hey.”
“Hi, babe. Why are you hovering? Come in. We have plans.”
The way he said it all cute and casual-like made Blair want to puke, he was so nervous. “We do?” He hadn’t meant it as a question, but it sure came out sounding like one.
“I thought we did.”
“I mean, yeah. We do. Sorry. Hi.”
“Are you nervous?” Sander asked. He cocked his head.
“A little.”
Sander came over and cupped Blair’s face in his big hands. “Hey. Don’t be. It’s just me.”
Seriously? Blair coughed out a laugh. “Yeah. I know.”
“It’s been a long time since high school. I’m the one who should be nervous now.”
“Yeah, right.”
Blair sank down into Sander’s cushy bed and wound his fingers together. Sander sat next to him and pulled Blair’s hands apart, cupping one of them on his lap.
“Is this the part where we figure out what both of us like?” Sander asked.
“I like everything.” Blair coughed. Ohmygod. Why did I just say that? “What I mean is I’m versatile. I’m not into like whips and stuff.”
“No?” Sander grinned evilly.
“N-not really. At least I don’t think so.”
“Well, I did say I owed you a massage. Are you okay with that?”
“I’m very okay with that.” Blair’s belly heated. He thought about Sander rubbing him down, about how amazing it felt when they kissed. His nerves started to melt away.
“Off with your clothes, then.”
“All of them?”
Sander rolled his eyes. “Spa rules.”
He was so not listening.
IT DIDN’T take long for Sander to have Blair facedown and mostly naked on his bed. Blair’s heart pounded quick and hot and happy. He was nervous. Sure as hell he was, but he was also more excited than he’d ever been. Even though Sander was the same guy he’d been with for weeks, kissing and joking with like it was no big deal, there was still a part of him that remembered it was Sander, and the kid in him died of excitement a little bit every time he thought about it.
Sander rubbed down Blair’s spine with his huge strong hands. Blair shivered. “That’s amazing,” he mumbled.
“You’ve got your back all tense, babe. That can’t be good for it.”
“You try dealing with Howie all day. Your back would be stiff too.”
Sander chuckled. “That guy’s seriously a class A douchewad, isn’t he?”
“You have no idea. I don’t want to talk about Howie.” Blair felt all squirmy and melty, both relaxed and light, like he could float off the bed if Sander moved his hands.
“What do you want to talk about?” Sander straddled his lower back and Blair groaned. He was at least half hard. Blair felt it against his lower back. He arched into Sander’s touch and rolled his hips a bit. “Hey. Stop that. This is professional massage time.”
“Would it still be professional if we got naked?”
For that, he got a sharp nip on his neck. “I think probably not. But I’m okay with that if you are.”
“Very okay.”
Sander’s weight slid off Blair’s back. Blair shimmied out of his loose shorts. He hadn’t been wearing anything under them.
“Damn,” Sander whispered. He ran his palms all the way from Blair’s shoulders to the round slope of his ass and then squeezed. “You’re gorgeous.”
Blair rolled over and stared up at Sander. He’d known. It was obvious that he was hot, but just like Sander said. Damn. Sander was like six foot two of golden skin and muscles. Perfect planes of beautifully made man. He’d taken his stubby ponytail out, and his hair fell around his face. It was like Blair had landed in some ancient god’s lair, and fuck, that was cheesy, but it was true.
“How are you even real?” he asked quietly. He raised his palm and slid it down Sander’s chest, rubbed at his nipples, traced his subtle V-lines, and cupped his warm cock in his hand. “You’r
e so pretty.”
Sander leaned over and rested his body half on top of Blair’s. “So, no whips?” He smirked a little. It shouldn’t have been as hot as it was.
“Probably not this time, at least.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
FROM THERE, it only got better. Sander flipped him back onto his belly and proceeded to give Blair the longest, most intense massage he’d ever had. He spread lotion all over Blair’s back, working it in with long strokes and gentle kneading. He slid partially over Blair, thigh slipping between Blair’s legs, and sucked pale marks into Blair’s neck.
“Hey, knock it off. Lorelei’s gonna kill me if she has to cover a neck full of hickeys.”
All he got in response was an evil chuckle and more kisses down the dent in his spine. “This better?” Sander concentrated his lovebites around Blair’s tailbone, the top of his ass, the crease between his cheeks and his thigh. Blair shivered.
“Sander?” Blair turned his head and tried to watch Sander. It was nearly impossible from that angle.
“Mmmph?” Sander lifted his head.
“Can we…? I want you.” He decided just to say it.
Sander slithered up his back until they were even again. “Now?”
Blair really didn’t want to wait. “Yeah. Now.”
“I didn’t expect. Fuck. Hell yeah.”
Sander still had a shocked look on his face when he crawled over to root around in his bedside table. He produced lube and a couple of condoms and came back to wrap his warm, glowy body around Blair.
It was like some fantasy, like every fantasy Blair had ever had, but way, way better. He’d have never been able to imagine how sweet Sander was, how his face looked incredulous that Blair of all people wanted him, how he cupped Blair’s face and kissed him all soft and full of awe. He was so much more than the hot guy he used to be.
