by Ally Blue
The tension bled from Nat’s face and shoulders, leaving him slumped and exhausted looking once more. “Yeah, well. A few weeks ago I could’ve died happy if she’d done that. Now, it doesn’t seem to matter. I mean, I like her, she’s really cool, but it’s not the same.”
Rafael was sifting through his brain for the right way to ask Nat what was wrong, when Nat’s phone rang. He fished it out of his jacket pocket, glanced at the display, and sighed as he swiped his thumb across the screen. “I’m at work,” he growled in the wolf voice that always made Rafael’s stomach flutter.
Whoever was on the other end must’ve had a lot to say, because Nat sat silent and stony faced for several seconds. Rafael watched him, worried and curious.
“Yeah, fine,” Nat said finally, his voice low and tight. “I know that. You called in the middle of a scene before, okay? I couldn’t answer while I’m filming even if I had my phone on me then, which I don’t, because it’s not allowed. I’ve told you that a hundred times . . . Well, if it’s a real emergency and I don’t answer, call the set and they’ll get me. You have the number . . . Yeah, fine. I’ll call as soon as I get a minute . . . Well, that’s gonna have to do because I’m at work. Like I said before . . . It’s under the sink in the bathroom, where it always is . . .” He rubbed the side of his face with his free hand. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to say it like that . . . Okay . . . Okay . . . Yeah . . . All right . . . Bye.”
He ended the call, set his phone on the table, and went back to pushing his barely touched food around the plate like nothing had happened. He refused to meet Rafael’s eyes.
Oh, hell no.
Rafael reached over to touch Nat’s hand. A simple brush of fingertips, but it was enough to still Nat’s plastic fork and raise his head. He didn’t say a word, but his blank face and tense jaw warned that Rafael was dangerously close to crossing a line.
Worry for Nat outweighed any fear of what might happen. Rafael kept his fingers over Nat’s and held his gaze. “Nat, I don’t know what’s going on. But whatever it is, you can tell me. I want to help.”
For a second, Nat’s mask dropped. His white-blue eyes shone with a soul-deep weariness that hurt Rafael’s heart. Then the walls slammed back into place. He pulled his hand away, rose and snatched up his phone in one fluid movement, and strode off, his long legs eating up the distance before Rafael could process what was happening.
“Shit.” With a brief, mournful thought for his unfinished lunch, Rafael jumped up and jogged after Nat.
He caught up to him on the far side of the craft services tent. “Nat, wait up.”
To his surprise, Nat actually stopped. “What d’you want?” The question was gruff and clipped. He didn’t turn around.
Okay. So he was being defensive. Rafael understood that. As a gay man of color trying to break into directing, he’d run into plenty of brick walls thrown into his career path, and way too much of Hollywood’s “what wall?” attitude. It was enough to ruffle anyone’s feathers. He couldn’t blame a super-private guy like Nat for getting prickly about what he no doubt saw as Rafael prying into his personal business. Which, to be honest, he kind of was.
None of which meant Rafael was giving up. He’d never been able to let people he cared for suffer alone. And he’d begun to care for Nat a great deal.
Steeling himself for however Nat might lash out, Rafael moved close enough to rest a hand on Nat’s tense back. He dug his fingertips into the taut muscles, hard enough to feel the fine tremor running through Nat’s body. “I know we haven’t known each other all that long, and I know you’re a really private person. But I think you need someone to talk to. And we’re friends now. Aren’t we?”
Some of the tightness eased from Nat’s spine. “Yeah.”
To Rafael, Nat’s soft whisper might as well have been a shouted declaration. Hoping he wasn’t pushing things too far, Rafael moved to stand in front of Nat. “I want to help. Let me, huh?”
Nat drew a long, shaking breath, held it for several seconds, then blew it out. A crease dug between his eyes, and his gaze was focused somewhere far away. Rafael waited, watching the emotional war playing out through the cracks in the false face Nat showed the world.
“My dad was a logger,” Nat began, still staring at nothing, his voice low and inflectionless. “He fell out of a tree four years ago and got hurt pretty bad. He had some broken ribs, a bruised lung, a broken wrist, a broken leg, and several broken vertebrae in his spine.”
“Oh my God.” Horrified, Rafael reached out and took Nat’s hand before he thought about what he was doing. When Nat’s fingers curled around his and squeezed for a second before letting go, it felt like a victory. “Did . . . did he . . . I mean . . .”
Evidently, Nat got the gist of what Rafael was trying so ineloquently to say. One corner of Nat’s mouth hitched upward. “He recovered reasonably well, considering how bad the accident was. It could’ve been a whole lot worse. The doctor said he was lucky he didn’t break his neck, or get a brain injury. The height he fell from, either of those could’ve killed him.”
Chills raised the hairs on Rafael’s arms. One of his high school classmates had broken her neck diving into shallow water in junior year and ended up paralyzed. He’d read her obituary last time he’d been home. She’d died of pneumonia in a nursing home. “How’s he doing now?” Rafael got the feeling that was the crux of the matter.
Nat barked a short, dagger-sharp laugh. “He’s been in pain ever since. He’s addicted to pills, because those drugs are the only things that keep the pain even halfway under control. And I have no fucking clue how to help him.” He rubbed one hand over the back of his neck, every line of his body radiating frustration and misery.
“Oh damn. I’m sorry.” Rafael fought the urge to wrap Nat in his arms and hold on. Why was Nat shouldering all the responsibility for his dad? Where was the sister he’d mentioned that day on Bayside Ridge?
Either Raphael hadn’t learned to control his expressions as well as he’d hoped, or Nat could read minds. “Abby dropped out of high school to move to New York with her boyfriend when she was sixteen and I was thirteen. Dad doesn’t have any other family left. Mom’s brother, Jeff, runs a fishing charter here in town, but he’s never been Dad’s biggest fan. So it’s down to me. And I wouldn’t stick him in some stupid home even if I could afford it. Which I can’t.”
A deep, fierce love underpinned the bitterness and fear in Nat’s words. Rafael’s respect for him shot up another few thousand points. This time, he couldn’t help himself. Stepping closer, he planted his hands on Nat’s shoulders, rose on tiptoe, and kissed him.
Nat’s whole body went stiff, his lips slack. Horror flooded Rafael’s veins. What had he done? What the hell was wrong with him? Kissing someone who was hurting. Who needed a sympathetic ear. A friend. Who might not want to be friends after this, understandably. Christ.
He started to pull away, an apology already forming in his head. Nat’s arm snaked around his waist, holding him in place while Nat’s mouth opened over his, hard and hungry. Desperate.
Oh, hell yes. Knees shaking, Rafael clung to Nat’s jacket and let the slick press of Nat’s tongue set his blood on fire.
“Meow,” went an invisible kitten somewhere in the vicinity of Rafael’s rear.
He figured it said a lot about his mental state right then that he didn’t recognize his own text tone until Nat shoved him away and backed up several steps, panting, eyes wide and panicked.
Shit.
Ignoring his phone, Rafael took a step toward Nat. Stopped when Nat backed up again.
At least he wasn’t running away. That was good.
“I’m sorry, Nat.” Rafael studied Nat’s face. He was too pale, his lips a hard line and his gaze fixed on the ground at his feet. Damn. “Okay, no, I’m not.” That got him a spear-sharp stare. Good. Reaction was good. “That is, I’m sorry I caught you off guard. And I’m especially sorry I upset you. But I can’t say I’m sorry I kissed you, ’cause that
would be a lie. I wanted to kiss you, and I’m not sorry I did it.” He paused. Nat’s focus didn’t waver. Sighing, he scrubbed both hands over his face. “This was definitely not a good time, though.”
“No, it’s not. I mean, I sure didn’t mind, obviously, but, yeah. Not the best time.” Nat studied Rafael with narrowed eyes. “So why did you?”
His tone held no blame, only honest interest. Rafael managed a halfhearted smile. “My mom would say I’m emotional and impulsive. I always told her that was bullshit, but now I wonder if she’s had a point all along.” He peered at Nat, feeling even worse as a sudden thought struck him. “I won’t out you. I mean, I know we never really talked about it or anything. But whether you’re gay or bi or whatever, I swear I won’t tell anyone.”
Nat shrugged. “I’m not really in the closet.”
“Oh. Okay.” Relieved, Rafael grinned. “Sorry, I just figured you were.”
“Why?”
Yeah, Rafael? Why? “Well. This is a pretty small town. And I haven’t seen you go out with anybody but Solari, so . . .” Wow, that sounded seriously stupid.
Apparently Nat thought so too, because his wild eyes went ice cold. “First of all, just because I don’t run down the fucking street screaming, ‘I’m bi,’ through a bullhorn doesn’t mean I’m in the closet. All my friends know.”
Rafael tried not to wince. Ouch.
Nat plowed on. “Second of all, you haven’t known me nearly long enough to know who I’ve gone out with, and assuming I only went out with Solari because I must be in the closet is seriously fucked up.”
Crap. “You’re right. That was a dumb thing for me to say.” And apparently kissing you makes me stupid. “But I didn’t know—”
“Third,” Nat interrupted, because he clearly wasn’t done yet and didn’t care that Rafael had literally not known about Nat’s sexuality until this minute. “If you’re trying to say that small towns are shit and Hollywood is the shit because obviously a queer person has to be closeted in Bluewater Bay, but you can be out in Hollywood, then you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Okay, that stung. Rafael lifted his chin and met Nat’s glare. “Hollywood’s home for me. I love it and always will. And no, it’s not perfect. But guess what, Bluewater Bay’s not perfect either, even though it’s a great place and definitely not shit. Which I never said it was, by the way. And if you’d been in the closet, that wouldn’t have been surprising, because there’s tons of queer people in the entertainment industry who stay in the closet because it’s better for their career. Or maybe it’s not but they think it is. Either way, they’re not comfortable coming out, which I totally get. It’s not easy being queer in this business, whatever anybody thinks. So it’s not like it was a strange thing for me to assume, to be honest. I’m sorry I insulted you. I didn’t mean to. But that’s how this business is. It’s weird and crazy and people do weird, crazy, mixed-up things because we love our whacked little world. Who knows, you might end up doing something crazy too because you fall in love with this freaky-ass life and you find out you’d do all sorts of shit you never thought you would to hang on to it.”
Through his whole stream-of-consciousness speech, Nat stared at him with a crooked half smile, arms crossed and one finger tapping the opposite elbow. “You done?”
Self-conscious now, Rafael frowned at Nat’s chest. “Yeah.”
“Good.” Nat took a step closer, dropping his arms to his sides. “Listen. I like you. You’re a nice guy. You’re lots of fun to hang out with. You’re dead sexy. And I get that you want to help, like, everybody ever. But sometimes you’re way too nosy for your own good, or anyone else’s.” He leaned down enough that Rafael could’ve kissed him again with nothing more than a slight head tilt. “Back off a little bit. Okay?”
His face flaming, Rafael nodded. He couldn’t make any words come out. Couldn’t look Nat in the eye. Which made zero sense, really. He’d been reprimanded plenty in his life. This one was the tamest by far, especially compared to what his mom could dish out. So why did he feel flayed raw?
Nat touched his cheek. Nothing but a bare brush of rough, callused fingertips, but it sent electric jolts arcing over Rafael’s skin. “I gotta go to work. Don’t get all emo about it, okay? I’ll talk to you later.”
“Okay.” Rafael managed a smile and forcibly resisted the urge to press his face into Nat’s palm. “Later.”
Nat’s wry, lopsided grin came back for a second before he turned and walked away, strolling at his usual languid pace. Rafael watched, a vague ache lodged in his chest. He felt like he’d failed some sort of test, though he wasn’t sure what it was, exactly.
The phone kitten mewed at him again. Groaning, Rafael yanked his phone out of his pocket. He’d forgotten all about the first text. Crap. Hopefully it wasn’t anything too important.
He thumbed it on and checked the text. Carter. Of course. If he’d been thinking, he’d have expected to hear from Carter sooner or later.
Hey, the first text said, could u bring me some water? And a protein bar or something? STARVING HERE. TY!
He paged over to the second text. Set 4. Sorry.
A smile tugged at Rafael’s mouth despite himself. Sure, Carter Samuels was a big star, but he was also one of the sweetest, most down-to-earth people Rafael had ever met. When you got right down to it, he’d lucked out in the star-assistant department. He worked with two of the nicest names in the business. Not everyone in his shoes was so fortunate.
Now if only he could keep from screwing up his burgeoning friendship with Nat. Maybe nudge it on down the road into something more.
Nice pickle you’ve got yourself in, Rafey, his mother chided in his head. Her carefree laugh echoed through his memories.
The sense of nostalgia and not-quite-homesickness that always lurked in the background here in this town pounced and squeezed his lungs tight. Bluewater Bay was beautiful—stunningly so—and the locals had embraced Wolf’s Landing and everyone in the show with enthusiastic warmth. Well. Mostly. But this wasn’t home. It would never be home.
He didn’t text Carter back, in case there was a scene in progress. Instead, he swallowed the lump of self-reproach clogging his throat and breathed until he felt better. Maybe he was a screwup when it came to being a friend—or finding a man—but he was a damn good personal assistant. He could indulge his angst later. Right now, he had a job to do.
Plastering on his best casual face, he strolled over to the snack table.
The door swung open. Rafael watched, holding his breath, as Nat spun to put his back to Solari and snarled, “What’re you doing here?”
She stared, openmouthed and wide-eyed, and Rafael marveled for the umpteenth time at her acting skills. Anyone would think she really had just realized the wolf man crouching over her friend’s unconscious body was, in fact, Max Fuhrman’s mysterious young neighbor, Rolf. Meanwhile, Carter was lying sprawled on the set floor looking gorgeous, as usual. He was the only guy Rafael knew who could manage perfect masculine beauty even with fake blood and makeup bruises all over him.
Solari’s face crumpled, tears streaking down her cheeks. God, she could do the realest fake ugly-crying he’d ever seen in his life. Seriously impressive.
“What’ve you done to him?” she sobbed, gesturing to Carter with one arm.
Nat’s shoulders hunched. “Nothing. I found him this way.” He glanced backward at her, his body stiff and his upper lip lifted to show his prosthetic wolf fangs. “He’s my friend. I would never hurt him.”
Nat’s voice, gruff yet soft, conveyed the perfect level of shame, resentment, and longing for comfort that defined his character. Good lord, he was amazing. Almost as good as Solari and Carter, honestly. His talent was huge. Natural, if a little raw. All he needed was a bit of polish. Maybe not even that, depending on the project. It physically hurt to not be directing him yet.
While Nat, Solari, and Carter finished the scene, Rafael rubbed at the ache in his chest and hoped Nat would still w
ork with him after yesterday. The fight that had almost been. Nat hadn’t even been mad at him when they’d parted ways. But Rafael felt deeply ashamed whenever he thought about it. In his heart, he couldn’t see Nat wanting to remain friends with him, never mind take it further.
Solari plopped into the empty chair beside him, laughing when he jumped. “You were a million miles away, Rafael. I can’t believe you weren’t watching.”
“I was. Up until the last thirty seconds or so, anyway.” Rafael caught Nat’s gaze across the room while he talked to Anna, and lost his words for a heartbeat until Nat looked away again. “Um. Sorry.”
“It’s not a problem. I was only teasing.” She glanced toward the stage, where Anna was talking with obvious enthusiasm and Nat was nodding, his expression a little overwhelmed and a lot pleased behind the werewolf makeup. “Did something happen between you and Nat?”
He thought about lying, but couldn’t. “I sort of insulted him. Accidentally, of course, and I apologized, and he wasn’t still mad at me, at least I don’t think so, but.” Sighing, he watched Nat smile at Anna and walk off, casting him an inscrutable look on the way. “I really need to talk to him.”
“Evidently.” She leaned toward him, her dark eyes full of concern. “Rafael. What happened, exactly?”
He shifted in his seat, crossing his legs. “It’s embarrassing.”
“Well, you don’t have to tell me if you’d rather not.” She touched his arm. “But I’d like to think we’re friends. Nothing you say to me will go any further. That’s a promise.”
He peered around. Plenty of people lingered on the set, but no one was close enough to hear. Not that they would likely listen in anyway. They had their own stuff to do.
Nevertheless, he lowered his voice, in case anyone wandered over and got curious. “I kissed him.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Oh my.”
“Yeah.”
“So, I’m assuming he didn’t react well?”