Hot Set (Art of Love #2)

11. Alex

Chapter eleven

Alex

M orning brought a strange sort of order to the world. No matter how the day before had gone, there was always something comforting about waking up in a familiar place. There was something magical about how nice my bedspread and sheets felt in the morning and something safe about the scent of syrup and bacon drifting through the air.

My mom stood before the microwave, waiting for it to warm a mug of water, so she could make her morning tea. “Are you going in today?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I replied.

I immediately thought of Brandon’s blue eyes, so hauntingly focused on my face the night before, and warmth rushed to my face. I dug around the fridge for the English muffins and hoped that if Mom noticed my face, reddened with embarrassment, that she’d have the grace not to say anything.

“What are you doing today?” I asked.

“Going to the craft store,” she replied. “I think I’m going to take up crochet. I saw the most incredible blanket on Pinterest.”

My poor mother. She was the queen of unfinished projects.

I grabbed a muffin and tore a bit out of it, drawing a scowl from her. “No time to sit down and eat?” she asked.

“I’m afraid not,” I replied. “I like to be on set bright and early. It’s good practice for the FBI.”

“I really thought you’d spend your life doomed to work the third shift,” Mom replied, “As much as you hate mornings.”

“Not all of us can naturally wake up at four,” I said.

“I didn’t either until I had you ,” she said.

I laughed. “Are you blaming me for something I did as a newborn?” I asked.

“Yes,” she replied, deadpan.

I kissed her cheek and pulled on my shoes. “I’ll see you later,” I said.

“All right, dear.”

I headed out the door. I’d only gotten a few steps before I pulled out my phone. I flipped through the contacts. My finger hovered briefly over Brandon’s name. I sucked in a deep breath, as warm butterflies flitted through my belly. Again my face blushed. At this point, I should really stop denying it.

I couldn’t even talk to Brandon without getting distracted by how blue his eyes were. Or how enthusiastic he looked about everything. Maybe it was time to admit that I was attracted to him; very attracted to him.

So, now what?

I stared at Brandon’s name and number, weighing my options. Part of me wanted to just blurt out this grand revelation that I liked him, really liked him.

I was gay like him. Or bi. Something other than straight, and I’d just figured that out. And now that I had, the label seemed natural. Fine. But then…what? Confessing to Brandon also felt a lot like opening Pandora’s box. If I admitted I liked him, we’d have to talk about the time we had sex. And what if Brandon didn’t really like me? It was pointless to even consider a relationship or romance anyway because if I got this FBI job, it wouldn’t pan out.

And did I really want my long, probably meandering love confession to come over the phone? Admittedly, the rejection wouldn’t be as bad, then. I wouldn’t have to see that awkward face Brandon made when he felt like he’d messed something up really badly.

I growled in frustration and kept flipping through my contacts. Surely, there would be someone who I could talk to about this. I paused on Seth’s name. Seth was fun and friendly. He was also the absolute last person that I would ever consider going to for advice, but the last person was better than no person, right? And Seth wasn’t a brainless fool. He’d take me seriously if I called him about something like this .

I took in another gulp of air, as if afraid that all oxygen on the planet might dissolve within the next few seconds and dialed his number. After three rings, I began to doubt he’d answer. Then, click.

“Hello, Alex!”

“Hey, Seth,” I said.

It was probably best to ease him into this.

“So do you need me to help bury a body?” Seth asked. “There’s some room in the creek near my house.”

My laughter was edged with anxiety. “Maybe you could bury me?” I asked, only half-joking.

Seth whistled. “Seems like a waste.”

“I’m thinking I might die of humiliation soon.”

“That’s not so bad,” Seth said. “Been there, done that.”

“You died ?”

“Well, not literally; metaphorically. (My ‘big word’ of the day). Several times. But what’s up with you? Is the FBI making you give a speech or something? One of those job talk things?”

“No,” I replied. “It’s just I… need some advice.”

“Okay,” Seth said, immediately all business. “What’s going on?”

“It’s love advice,” I said slowly.

“Love, huh? I might know a thing or two about that,” Seth replied. “I’ve dated quite a few people. Broken a few hearts, just like Lord Byron before me.”

I snorted. “I don’t think you should be taking up dead poets as your heroes.”

“Well, if you’re not taking up a dead poet, what’s the point?” Seth asked.

“ Anyway ,” I said. “I’m on my way to the set. Can you talk?”

I headed to my car and climbed into the driver’s seat, hitting the speaker button on my phone. This car had Bluetooth , but I’d never bothered to figure out how to use it. Instead, I’d accepted that I was a failure as a millennial and moved on.

“Okay,” Seth said, his voice a bit staticky but definitely there. “I’m here. Tell me about your love problem.”

I blurted, “I think I might be gay, Or potentially something else. But I’m now sure I like men.”

“Oh! Congratulations!” Seth exclaimed, sounding legitimately thrilled.

I started the car and pulled away from the curb. “Thank you,” I replied, “But the thing is I’m not entirely sure this guy likes me back.”

“Well, if he does, he’s got good taste,” Seth said. “If not, I think he’s an ass and not worth your time.”

“For me to know for sure, I’d have to ask him.”

“Yeah, eventually,” Seth replied. “Look; no matter how good you are at reading people, it’s hard to tell things like that. Asking is a sure-fire way to know if he likes you. Well, mostly.”

“Okay,” I said, pulling into the traffic, “But let’s say I don’t want to ask him yet.”

“Then, you’ll have to give it your best guess. Who is it, anyway? Is it someone I know?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“It’s Brandon,” I replied.

For a long second, that name seemed suspended in the air, like some sacred thing.

“I like Brandon,” I said. “I think I love Brandon.”

“Okay,” Seth replied. “I can see the appeal.”

I frowned, catching uncertainty in his tone. Maybe I should’ve expected some reservation about the declaration, but it was hard to think about anything logically when my insides were all warm and fluttery thinking of Brandon.

Seth was right. The only way to really know how Brandon felt about me would be to ask. I tried to imagine that. I couldn’t just barge in and declare my love like some cheesy romantic comedy. And even if I could, there was still the FBI to think about. My dream job was on the line. Even if Brandon liked me the same way I liked him, if even he was head over heels in love with me, I couldn’t ask him to abandon Bluehaven and follow me to Washington D.C.

“I realize I’m the sort of person who jumps first and asks questions later,” Seth said. “You need to be careful with this one.”

My heart sank. I sighed and fixed my gaze on the approaching rear of a Toyota Land Cruiser stopped in front of me. I’d caught a red light, which meant I’d catch every stop light in town.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because it’s not usually a good idea to date a coworker, especially your boss,” Seth replied. “That just makes for workplace drama, especially if Brandon doesn’t reciprocate.”

That was true, and we couldn’t afford any more drama. We were barely managing with the number of unexpected problems we had, and the last thing either of us needed was relationship issues.

“You’re right,” I admitted.

Although I felt like I might be sick just agreeing that he was. It all felt horribly unfair, though. My wonderful, warm revelation had just careened straight into the ground. Even if I’d discovered my feelings for Brandon, I couldn’t tell him. Even if he liked me back, I still couldn’t tell him.

“But you know,” Seth said, “Filming is going to wrap up. Then you can seize your opportunity.”

“Yeah, sure,” I replied, forcing as much cheer as I could into my voice.

That seemed so far away, and even if I did want to seize the opportunity, there was still the FBI to worry about. I’d wanted to join the art forgery team forever, and if they invited me to join, could I really refuse?

“I’ll see you on set,” I said.

“Sure!” Seth replied. “Sometime today.”

The call ended with a click. I slouched in my seat. This just wasn’t fair. This had been a great revelation. For a few seconds, I’d had a wonderful feeling of knowing who I was and what I wanted. Then reality set in, and it all came crashing down.

Maybe it was for the best. I’d be joining the FBI and moving anyway, assuming I got the job. And if I didn’t… then what? Was a relationship with Brandon even more likely then? I tried to imagine it, waking up beside him instead of in my childhood bedroom in my mom’s house. But I had no idea what waking up beside Brandon would be like. The one time I’d had the opportunity to experience that, I’d left.

I pulled into the parking lot outside the set. I scanned the vehicles parked nearby. There was Brandon’s cherry-red Crossfire, easily distinguishable from the gray and white cars around it. I leaned my head against the steering wheel. Maybe the worst part was that I would now have to go in and pretend everything was fine when it really wasn’t. If I couldn’t tell Brandon how I felt, I’d have to act normally. Otherwise, he could suspect something.

I climbed out of my car and, steeling myself, entered the warehouse. It was bustling as always. I waved to Bioncia, already busy airbrushing one of the extras to be an intergalactic zombie. Sometimes, I really felt like Brandon threw darts at a board when it came to costume design. Not that I would ever complain. Challenges were good for make-up artists.

As if Brandon had somehow heard my thoughts, he waved and made a beeline straight for me. My heart quickened, racing a mile a minute. And even when Brandon stood before me, smiling, I couldn’t keep my eyes from darting over his laughing blue eyes or his sleek blond hair. Then, I realized I was ogling him, and my stomach flipped.

“So, this is going to sound really strange,” Brandon said, practically bursting with enthusiasm, “But it’s going to be so perfect for our zombies.”

I was having a hard time caring about zombies at the moment. “Okay?” I asked.

Brandon grinned. “We need live maggots… or worms. They sell them at pet stores, don’t they? For feeding amphibians?”

I bit back my reply of, “ That’s the most unromantic thing anyone has ever said to me.”

Instead, I took a steadying breath and nodded. “That would be pretty gross,” I said, “in the best possible way.”