My mind was already torturing me, skewing my memories of watching them interact.
As much as it tried to make Leo meld to Reese in my memory, I couldn’t bring myself to believe it. All I could see was Leo looking at Reese in the same cool professionalism that he treated all his fellow actors.
“I don’t think they’re a thing. Yet.” He punctuated as he placed his drink on the table with a clatter. “We’ll have to watch them at dinner.”
“We'll?” I emphasized. “You’re trying to drag me into this drama with you?”
“Oh get off your moral high horse,” Oliver snapped. “You love drama. Stop trying to play your goody-two-shoes, Boy Next Door card. You can fool everyone else, but you can’t fool me.”
The way he looked at me then was like he was pulling back all of my layers and staring at the core of who I was: A scared, insecure boy who was trying his best but secretly knew he would never be good enough.
I closed my eyes and breathed out through my nose slowly. I wasn’t going to admit it, but Oliver was right. I was petty and shady, and I loved drama as long as I wasn’t directly involved.
“If we both keep an eye on them, we’ll notice more than either one of us could alone,” Oliver reasoned.
“For what, though? What outcome are you hoping for?” I asked with my eyebrow raised.
“Well,” he said, flashing a mischievous grin. “I want Reese, and I know you want Leo, bad.”
I froze. Was it that obvious?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Leo is a handsome guy — everyone in the entire world wants him. Even straight men,” I reasoned.
“Not the way you want him,” Oliver said, his green eyes twinkling.
I’d never wished I could turn invisible so badly. Instead, I changed the subject back to him.
“Why do you want Reese?” I asked.
“Because he’s the bad guy,” Oliver answered simply.
“What do you mean?” I asked as I drained the rest of my drink.
Oliver smiled and said, “He’s got that whole Disney villain vibe, don’t you think? He’s manipulative, dastardly, and an artistic genius. I’m into that. Sue me.”
I was lost for words. Even I had to admit he was right; there was some kind of darkness within Reese that I couldn’t put my finger on. And if every one of these stars were celestial bodies with their gravitational pull, Reese was like a black hole.
“He’s not a good guy?” I asked, fishing for more information.
Oliver rolled his eyes. “He’s a director! He’s daddy as fuck, in his forties, has money and power, and is surrounded by beautiful, famous actors. I’m willing to bet by the end of this show, he’ll fuck every single one of us,” he slurred.
I wrinkled my nose in disgust, but then bit my lip. I’d never been so conflicted. If I took a moment to think about how I felt, took a moment to uncover the reason why I was feeling this way, the answer was clear.
I wanted it to happen. I wanted Reese to fuck me, Oliver, Leo, and Mason at the same time.
As soon as the thought came into my head, I whisked it away.
“Yeah right,” I said, daring Oliver to break down my doubts.
“What, you don’t have the hots for that guy too?” Oliver pressed. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you… I can’t decide if it’s that weird artistic thing he does, or if he’s actually into you.”
I thought of Alina — how she claimed Reese was into me when I met him.
There was no way a director like him would be into a normal-looking guy like me.
“Wait wait, do you want him to be into you?” Oliver said, his eyes glittering. “I can make that happen.”
I raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were into him?”
“I like to play with my food before I eat it,” he said snarkily. “Here’s what we’re going to do…”
I leaned forward, listening to his plan. By the time he was finished, I told him I’d think about it, but I wouldn’t give him any promises.
“You’ll agree. They always do,” he said with confidence.
An hour later, I was sitting next to Alina at the restaurant and across from Reese, Leo, and Oliver. Mason was on the other side of Alina, rearranging his silverware.
Conversation was light as we ate the buttery rolls and waited for our food, but something was brewing under the surface.
Oliver kept sneaking looks at me and smiling.
There was a part of me that enjoyed this strange camaraderie we now had. I half expected it to wear off as the alcohol did, but it seemed like we’d made a solid bond during our time in that bar.
As soon as I had that thought, the waiter came by and set a delicate-looking champagne flute down in front of me.
I raised an eyebrow at Reese, who’d seized his and was holding it up to the table.
“Cheers, to all of my talented people from today!” he said with a bright white smile.
Our glasses clinked together in a series of chimes.
When we all took our sips and the bubbling liquid passed my lips, I discovered a brand new feeling unfolding inside of me.
I felt like for the first time in a long time, I belonged somewhere. I was part of something greater, creating art, but also helping others create art. I felt like I was a pattern in an intricate tapestry — a vital piece to the overall design.
I felt important. I felt like I mattered.
And just like that, I didn’t miss L.A. anymore. I had gone to that city chasing this feeling. This feeling of being accepted, of belonging.
The only thing I still missed about L.A. was Hazel. For what felt like the third time today, I resisted the urge to call her.
The thing she said
