“Me and Oliver… that wasn’t what it sounded like,” he said.
I watched the tea slowly bubble.
“Why should that matter to me? That’s you and Oliver’s business,” I said flatly.
He was quiet for a moment, then said, “I don’t want there to be drama when there doesn’t have to be.”
“You’re all a bunch of dramatic actors from big cities. It’s inevitable, isn’t it?” I asked.
“I’m not from a big city. I’m from the midwest, like you,” he said.
I stopped breathing for a moment. That was right — he had a similar background to me. But that didn’t explain how he knew I was from the midwest.
“How do you know that about me?” I asked, the bubbles in the pot rising to the surface of the water slowly. I turned around and leaned against the counter so I was facing him.
He was staring at me like he was seeing the real me — the me that hid underneath the surface. For a second I thought of Mason’s eyes that night we hooked up.
“Even though I don’t participate in spreading the gossip doesn’t mean I don’t hear it,” Leo said, fixing me with that golden stare.
“So I’m guessing you know everything about me at this point,” I said bitterly, turning back around to check on the water. It was almost boiling now.
“No, I don’t,” Leo admitted. “But I’d like to.”
I froze. This was… this was getting intense.
“I’m just a boring guy from the midwest,” I said, grabbing the handle and swirling the bubbling water.
“Really? Is that how you see yourself?” he asked.
The water bubbled excitedly as the butterflies in my stomach flung themselves around.
“It’s all I am,” I said.
“You can’t believe that,” Leo said. “Reese sees it in you. I see it in you. Hell, even Oliver sees it in you, and that’s why he acts the way he does.”
Leo’s words combined with his slow molasses voice caressed me. I relaxed ever so slightly. There was silence for a moment as I removed the boiling water from the burner and poured it into two teacups.
“Do you like floral tea?” I asked, trying to break the silence. My insides were squirming under this nebulous pressure.
“I’ll take whatever you’ve got,” he said.
I bit my lip and turned away from him. I couldn’t look at him; his gaze was making me squirm. I could feel my bad mood melting away for some reason, and I was reluctant to let it go. It was the only thing keeping me from crying, and I couldn’t let myself cry.
Not in front of Leo.
I brought a steaming mug of the pink liquid to him, and he grasped it with both of his big, meaty hands.
Our fingers grazed, and the touch sent shivers of sensation through me.
I pretended like I didn’t notice, but I couldn’t stop the blush from rising into my cheeks.
“Thanks,” he said, the single syllable sitting heavily in the air.
Grabbing my mug, I scanned the area for the right place to sit. Leo was sitting on the couch with his big arm outstretched, resting on the back.
Every instinct within me urged me to sit there, in the crook of his arm. It took every ounce of self-control I had to muster myself into the chair across from the couch.
“Where were we?” I asked, taking a sip of the sweet and sour liquid.
His golden eyes were on me, watching me carefully. “I was telling you about me and Oliver, so we can get the story straight.”
The tea burned my mouth again, but I tried not to let it show. “You don’t have to tell me anything,” I said.
“I want to. I want to clear the air,” Leo said.
The way the orange light of the sunset fell across his face was captivating— again, he looked like he was more than human. He was a sparkling god.
“The world thinks I have a girlfriend… thinks I’m straight.”
“I know,” I said, the tea trembling in my hand.
“You know I’m not,” he said, his eyes boring into me.
“I know,” I repeated, and felt a strong sense of satisfaction unfold within me. Even though I knew that he was gay, that Oliver told me, it still felt really good to hear it from his mouth. To hear some kind of confirmation that the chemistry between us was real.
He took a sip of his tea, and I made sure to exhale in the silence to try to steady myself. To regain my center of gravity.
“That brings me to Oliver,” he said.
“You hooked up. That’s none of my business,” I said, crossing my legs.
“We didn’t, though,” Leo said.
My heart was in my throat, and my grip on the teacup intensified. “You… you didn’t?” I asked, trying to keep it cool.
Leo shook his golden head. “Depends on your definition of hooking up. We were… we made out once,” he said with a far-off stare. “It was a mistake.”
“R-really?” I said, my throat tight.
Leo nodded. “In season one, last year. I could tell he was trying to figure out if I was gay… the way that a lot of guys do. He kept dropping hints here and there, waiting for me to reveal myself to him or something. I pretended not to notice.”
I took another sip as I listened, thinking that Leo was much more observant than he seemed. I wondered how many times he’d played dumb with me, putting up this stoic facade.
“He kept following me around on set, pretending to need things from me. Another sizing, another measurement, my opinion on what color to make things. I knew what he was doing.”
“He was trying to get closer to you,” I said, holding my mug in my trembling hand.
Leo nodded slowly. “And I’m ashamed that I let it get to me. I was going through some family stuff at the time, and I wanted to tell someone — anyone about it. Having Oliver around all the time, it made the most sense to tell him. And that’s when he kissed me.”
I tightened my grip on the coffee cup.
“We
