I wanted to keep him in this mood, keep him talking like this. If he just had a breakup that was in any way significant to him, he should be more… more broken up about it, I thought. And if this helped him keep his mind off of things, then I would prolong it as long as possible.
“There,” I said, pointing to an unassuming storefront. “I’ve heard about that place online, they’ve got drinks inside. Want to get one before we go to this dinner? We’ve got a little bit of time.”
Oliver squinted and surveyed the spot I was pointing to. “It’s just a flower shop,” he said, his eyes lingering on the multicolored floral display out front.
“No, it’s more. I researched the hidden gems of this town online before I flew out here. That place looks like a flower shop on the outside, and it is on the inside, too. But there’s a secret door and a password that you can go through, and it opens up into this bar in the back.”
Oliver’s eyes were gleaming, and I knew he’d been hooked.
“Yeah, let’s go,” he said, making a beeline for the shop.
I was happy that I was finally getting to explore one of the places on my checklist for this Italian seaside town, but I was apprehensive about sharing it with Oliver. There was something about exploring new places with new people to me; it was as though the experience was put through a filter, forever painted in my memory in a different way than it would have been alone.
We went inside the flower shop, and I was immediately hit be floral, earthy scents. Plants hung off the walls, and people were wandering about through long, tall aisles.
There was some way that being around a bunch of plants like this always sort of muffled the noise, and it was like there was a magical tingling in the air.
Oliver was in front of me, walking down one of the aisles like he had been in here a thousand times and already knew where to go.
My eyes lingered on the edges of his hair, watching how his high-fade blended into his neck. Then I couldn’t stop myself from lingering on the roundness of his ears, then traced down the curve of his neck. The back of his neck was pristine as it plunged into his back.
I wanted to pull down the back of his collar and look at his naked back, maybe run my tongue down it…
The foreign thought startled me, and I had to shake my head to get it out of my mind.
We got to the back of the store, where it was even more jungle-y. Vines were pouring down from the shelves, and the quiet tingling in the air intensified.
It felt… intimate. And being with only Oliver here was causing all kinds of confused feelings to swirl around within me.
“What’s the password?” he asked me, flashing his bright smile.
“It’s… uh…” I said, totally lost for words at seeing his beautiful grin. “I remember looking it up earlier. It’s the word for my favorite flower, irises…”
“Oh, iridi,” Oliver said.
“You know Italian?” I asked.
“Yeah…” he said, but his eyes went down as if he was embarrassed.
I mentally bookmarked that for later.
There was an old man at the back of the shop whose face looked like an Easter Island Head brought to life. He looked like he’d never smiled a day in his life, and had his arms crossed protectively over his chest.
“Do you think we have to tell it to him?” Oliver whispered in my ear.
I shuddered as his words tickled my senses. “We can try.”
Before I could step towards the man who had his brown eyes keenly trained on us, Oliver took a few steps towards him.
He started saying things in Italian, the words flowing together like it was some kind of spell.
The old man responded in kind.
I watched in wonder, completely lost. Though, I couldn’t help that I was starting to feel some admiration for Oliver. He had access to this part of the world — this culture — that I didn’t.
It was fascinating. Though, I couldn’t put my finger on why I felt fascinated.
At the end of their exchange, I only caught one word: Iridi.
At that, the old man smiled a toothy grin, turned, and parted some vines like a curtain. Behind them was a door.
“That’s it,” I said breathlessly.
“Well, let’s go bitch about our exes then,” Oliver said with a grin.
Chapter Eleven
The door opened up to a small, charming little bar. My eye was immediately drawn to the shelves behind the bar, holding variously-colored bottles of liquor like they were jewels. Plants hung from the ceiling, colorful paintings were on the walls, and marble sculptures of naked men dotted the room.
“This is… incredible,” I said, taking it all in.
“It’s okay,” Oliver said haughtily, crossing his arms. “It’s still not like New York.”
I frowned. Even though I knew it was only a matter of time before his attitude came back, I had no idea it would come back so quickly.
Wordlessly, I went up to the bar to get away from him. He followed.
A few minutes later, we were sitting at one of the tables in the darkness underneath a curtain of vines. Three cute little candles were on the table in front of us, and the soft lighting made him look even more attractive.
Oliver swirled his drink — something that resembled a bright pink Manhattan.
I looked down at mine, a bright green concoction in a jeweled goblet.
“So, you just heard me break up with someone,” he said finally, addressing the elephant in the room.
“I did,” I said carefully, trying to read his face.
He was watching me just as carefully.
I was quiet and waited for him to continue. There was a pause in the air as I waited for him to speak, but I couldn’t deny that there was energy between us. The longer we were quiet, the more of a charge it got.
Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore; I couldn’t take those green eyes sussing me out like that. “Well, cheers to being single,” I said, clinking my glass to his.
His face pulled into a grin. “So you are single,” he said.
Something in the way he said that tugged at my curiosity like undoing a shoelace. “What do you mean by that? Was it ever a question?”
I took a sip of the green liquid, the bittersweet licorice taste swirling in my mouth.
“Someone’s been asking,” he said, raising an eyebrow.
I glared at him. Just like with Mason, Oliver enjoyed being the keeper of secrets.
“Who?” I asked, taking the bait.
“Just… people,” he said. “You know how they are around here — everyone loves to gossip.”
“Not me,” I lied.
“Bullshit. You’re the worst kind; you’re a secret gossip,” he said.
I was careful not to change my expression; careful not to let the truth leak out. “What do you know?”
“I know Mason’s been asking you all sorts of questions about Alina, and you know about that whole mess.”
“I don’t know anything,” I said, sliding my eyes over to one of the naked statues. Again, I thought of the scene tomorrow where I’d be pressed underneath Mason in a bed.
My pants got tight as my cock stiffened and blush rose into my cheeks.
His green eyes narrowed, and there was a pause as he waited for me to spill.
I looked back at him, then took another sip of my drink. “We’re having drinks, not tea.”
“Ooh, you want to talk about Mason,” he said.
I stiffened. He was too observant.
“I thought we were going to talk about your ex,” I snapped.
He recoiled a little, and I felt a small sense of satisfaction that I’d deflected his questioning.
“How long were you with him?” I asked, willing the current of our conversation away from Mason.
“…a few months,” Oliver said.
Now he was the one staring at the statue. I waited patiently for him to continue.
“Ten months,” he corrected.
; I tightened my grip on my glass. “That’s an eternity in gay time.”
He chuckled a little. “Yeah, I guess so.”
Again, I noticed his upper lip begin to quiver. It was clear that this was affecting him way more than he was letting on.
“So tell me about how much of an asshole he was,” I said with a grin.
When I’d broken up with Narcissist Guy, there was a unique kind of pleasure in meeting up for drinks with all of my friends and complaining about him. They validated me and claimed that none of them even liked him all along, and I felt like I could breathe again for just a moment.
“He was an engineer, and always tried to make it seem like he was better than me because of it,” he said, then took a long sip of his bright pink drink.
I had the urge to point out that someone had treated him the same way he was treating everyone else, but thankfully my filter blocked the words from escaping my mouth.
“What do you mean?” I asked, probing for more information and delighted to keep the subject of our conversation away from Mason.
I crossed my legs under the table.
“He was great at first. Encouraging, loving, kind… but then his true colors started to show. The more successful I got, the more withdrawn he got. Every time I’d share one of my successes with him, he’d have to one-up me with some boring engineering thing that had happened to him.”
“He was threatened,” I concluded.
“I don’t know what his deal was,” Oliver said through gritted teeth. “But as soon as I got the opportunity to come to the Black Castle and be their main costume designer, I knew I had to take it. I knew I had to leave him behind.”
“That couldn’t have been a fun conversation,” I offered.
He smirked. “No, it wasn’t.”
Silence hung in the air again, and he was boring into me with those green eyes. The magnetism was palpable. Something intangible shifted between us.
“You don’t seem too upset about it,” I observed.
“I knew it wasn’t going to go anywhere in my gut,” he said.
I remembered that feeling with Boring Guy — that strong sense that I knew I’d have to break up with him. Though at the time, I wouldn’t let myself even think it, because I knew that I needed the stability and security.
“You don’t need him anymore,” I said, fixing my gaze on his.
He bit his lip. The chemistry between us was undeniable.
That voice in the back of my head that kept screaming at me that Oliver was an arrogant asshole was dulled by the effects of the alcohol.
This time, he was the one to break the gaze as he took another sip.
I felt like I was in over my head, but in control of the conversation at the same time. The feeling was a strange sort of push-and-pull, cycling between a sense of power and anxiety.
“You’re right. I haven’t needed him for a long time. I think we— me and him, both knew that,” he said.
“What was it he was saying about Reese?” I asked. The words escaped from my mouth before I could stop them, sliding out with the lubrication of the liquor.
I wasn’t the only one affected by the strength of the drinks; Oliver’s tan skin was beginning to blush too. It was so strong that even in this dark room surrounded by vines only illuminated by candlelight, I could see it.
He gave a glance around the room, checking to see if anyone was in earshot.
The only other people in the bar were two older women sitting at a table on the other side of the room.
Nevertheless, Oliver lowered his voice and said, “Reese… has sort of a reputation. Only rumors, but they keep coming up.”
I leaned in closer, and my heart began to pick up pace. Maybe that weird vibe I was getting from him in the entrance hall when he asked me to do the sex scene wasn’t entirely unfounded.
“What kind of reputation?” I asked, my eyes focused on Oliver.
The corner of his mouth twitched up as he took another sip. I could tell that he’d been dying to share this secret with someone.
“Rumor has it that Reese and Mason… used to be a thing,” he said.
I swallowed, connecting the dots. Maybe that explained Mason’s response when I asked him if he’d worked with Reese before. He’d said, “once,” but in a heavy way. There was something there.
Oliver took another sip and continued. “And now, Reese is going after Leo, but Leo has a girlfriend.”
I frowned. The image of Reese in my head was starting to distort into something unpleasant, some monster that I didn’t like. I much preferred the respectable, tortured artist persona that I’d made up for him.
Oliver’s drink was almost gone now, and his words were beginning to slur together.
“Well! Here’s a secret that no one knows but me,” he said, puffing out his chest ever so slightly.
I leaned in a little closer, unable to resist.
“His girlfriend is fake!” he proclaimed.
“No way,” I said breathlessly, not daring to believe it.
Suddenly, everything felt like it was falling into place. My mind could now make sense of that crazy chemistry I felt towards Leo— like I was tethered to him by some magic. Slowly, I felt my faith being restored in Hazel’s words.
“Yeah, he pretends to be straight for the fame. I think his girlfriend,” he air-quoted, “is actually a good friend of his or something.”
I was only half-listening as my mind put all of the pieces together. This explained why Alina said she didn’t have much chemistry with Leo. This was why Reese’s hand caressed his shoulder…
“Wait, are Reese and Leo a thing?” I asked, my heart in my throat. The possibility of that happening was something that I knew I didn’t like. I didn’t like the idea of Reese coveting Leo, or of Leo looking at Reese with desire.
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.
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