Chapter Twelve Pravat
As I sit in my car waiting for Rama in the driveway, I thumb through the Hearts Productions website.
Pausing at a recent behind-the-scenes clip from My Doctor, My Love, I click on it.
Our final day of filming took place on location outside the medical faculty building of a local university, and in the clip, we’re between shots.
Rama sits on the edge of the low wall in the garden, his hands resting lightly on my hips, while I stand between his legs talking to Maha.
Having Rama return the simple touches I’ve been giving him since the beginning has been an odd experience for me.
Rather than take them for granted as I would with someone else, I recognize each as the gift it is.
Rama is not the type of person to open himself up to someone easily.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a very large dog escapes the leash of a bystander and zips past us, barking loudly and startling Rama so badly that he loses his balance on the wall, toppling backward.
As a nearby technician makes a grab for Rama’s leg, I latch onto his arms, wrapping them around my waist, saving him from the fall. It all happens within seconds.
Scrolling down the page, I read the comments.
ChibibabyElf: Awww. Pravat saved his sweetie Rama from falling!
Pravma4evr: Pravma are so cute together.
PravluvsRam05: Rama’s face when Pravat keeps him from falling, tho! Adoring eyes!
Hikitty618: I’ve watched this over and over again.
Gay4Pravma: They are so perfect together! If they’re not in love irl, I don’t know what to think. I can’t wait to watch episode one tonight!
Reviewing the video, I look at Rama’s eyes—are they really adoring?
Shaking my head at myself, I click on another clip, this one from months ago of Rama and me standing around one of the studio rooms waiting for filming to restart.
I’m behind him, arms around his waist, lightly tapping his chest with my fingers, something I seem to unconsciously do a lot.
Warmth fills me at the relaxed and content look on Rama’s face.
The over 25k comments beneath are similar to those of the other video.
A year ago, I was afraid my career as an actor was over, and now suddenly I’m one half of the most popular Y-couple out there. I still can’t believe it.
At the sound of the passenger door opening, I look up. Rama climbs into my car, the scent of his clean-smelling aftershave drifting to my nose.
He’s wearing a pair of olive-colored slacks and a navy shirt unbuttoned several buttons, showing off a good portion of his smooth, toned chest. On his feet he wears a pair of expensive sneakers, and I briefly wonder when ankles started looking sexy to me.
His hair is styled differently. It’s pushed back from his face, showing off his smooth brow and highlighting his sharp cheekbones.
I don’t even try to correct my fluttering heart.
I know it’s useless. The moment Rama trusted me enough to reach past his barriers and return my affection, I gave up trying to keep myself from falling for him.
“You look great. Are you nervous?” I ask as I pull out of his driveway.
“A little.”
“There’ll be dancing,” I remind him, smiling. “It’s a good way to avoid conversation.”
Rama clucks his tongue. “You know I’ll have to mingle with all the execs.”
“True, but I’ll be with you.”
The dimple in his left cheek appears, and I quickly turn my eyes back to the road. Two weeks of promotional events and photo shoots and our time together will be over. I dread it.
When we reach the club, an attendant parks my car while Rama and I walk into the building. The party is in full swing. I notice at the other end of the club a giant screen has been set up to view episode one when it airs.
Several scantily dressed women gather near the bar, and at their looks of open interest, I possessively wrap my arm around Rama’s waist, belatedly remembering this isn’t a fan meeting and Rama might not welcome my getting between him and a possible hookup.
Loosening my hold, I start to draw away, but Rama turns away from the girls and leans closer to me.
“There’s P’Tida,” he says into my ear, his warm breath raising the fine hairs on my neck.
Following the direction he’s looking, I spot Tida dressed in a purple pantsuit with a drink in her hand, talking to a foreigner.
“Who’s the farang?” Rama asks, and I shrug just as Tida notices us and waves us over.
“Here are my pretty boys,” she says loudly over the thumping bass. “Pravat Benjawan, Rama Sathianthai, this is Sidney Franklin, a movie producer from the United States. He’s here in Bangkok visiting a friend who brought him along to our celebration.”
“Very nice to meet you,” the man says after Rama and I greet him.
“Ms. Li has been singing your praises. I’ve heard all about your fabulous chemistry.
I must say, I’m intrigued by the boys’ love concept.
We don’t really have that in America, although LGBTQ-centered pieces are becoming more and more popular in the entertainment industry. ”
“Rama has recently been to the U.S. where he acted in theater,” Tida tells him.
I don’t like the interest that sparks in the man’s eyes or the way they make a quick but thorough trail over Rama’s body before landing on his face again.
“Maybe we can find some time to talk before the evening’s over,” Franklin says, and Rama politely gives him a wai.
Smiling, Tida tells us, “It’s an open bar. Get whatever you want.”
I look to Rama.
“A beer,” he says, and I hail the bartender, glad when Rama takes a step away from the American producer.
“Rama! Pravat!” Udom, who played Aran’s character’s sister in the series, joins us. By the glassy look of her eyes, she’s already had a few drinks. “Where have you been?”
“I made us late. I couldn’t decide what to wear,” Rama tells her.
Laughing, Udom teases, “You’re worse than me when it comes to getting ready to go out.”
The bartender brings the beers, and I pass a bottle to Rama before taking a swig from mine. Spotting Aran, Tait, and a few others drinking and chatting at a table, we head over there.
“It’s about time,” Aran complains when he sees us. “Let me guess—Pravat had to put the finishing touches on a painting.”
“Wrong,” I say, taking the seat next to him. “It was Rama’s fault this time.”
A young woman I’ve never seen before leans across Udom to speak to Rama.
“I’m Ying. I’ve seen your pictures plastered all over social media, but, thankfully, your bio says you’re straight.”
Rama smiles politely, turning slightly toward her in his chair while at the same time edging closer to me. “Saswadee-kraap.” The reserve is clear in his voice when he greets her, and I think if it were me, I would take the hint, but this girl is determined.
“It must be difficult for a straight man to play in a boys’ love story.
You must be quite the actor,” she says, resting her hand on Rama’s arm.
I’m suddenly very focused on her slim, feminine fingers resting on his sleeve.
She glances at me. “Although your co-star is quite easy on the eyes. Gay, not bi, correct?” she asks me.
“Very gay,” I say, a little less friendly than I normally would speak to someone.
“I’ve found that a beautiful person is just that—a beautiful person, no matter the gender,” Rama says before turning his back on her and lifting his glass to me.
I’m stunned speechless for a moment. Thankfully, Van, who played a small role in the series but entertained us daily with his mischievous humor, arrives at the table.
“I just danced with a woman who thought I was Jungkook,” he says with a grin. When everyone erupts in laughter, Van makes a face. “What? I look a little like him.”
“Maybe in a very dark room to a very drunk person,” Tait says as Naa’dir returns from the bar with more drinks. Soon we’re telling stories about funny things that happened during filming, and I notice the girl who hit on Rama left the table and is sitting on the lap of some big guy at the bar.
“He never stops kissing when Maha calls cut,” Tait says, patting Aran on the shoulder.
Aran flushes pink. “Yes, I do, you asshole.”
Laughing, Tait shakes his head, saying to us, “He just wants more of me.”
“You’re insufferable.” Chucking a pretzel from the bowl on the table at him, Aran adds, “Good thing we’re done with the kissing. If I’m lucky, my lips will never have to make contact with yours again.”
I must imagine the odd look that flitters over Tait’s face because he’s smiling at me and Rama. “What are your plans after the promotion ends?” he asks.
“I’m going to concentrate on my art for a while,” I say.
Rama touches my hand. “Don’t forget you owe me a painting.”
I open my mouth to assure him I won’t when a hand suddenly clamps down on my shoulder.
“Well, look who it is,” a familiar voice says.
Shrugging off the touch, I look up at Preed. He’s wearing tight black slacks and a dark red shirt open to mid-chest. His cat-like gaze flicks from me to Rama.
“And this must be your bottom.”
“Your replacement,” Tait says with a sneer. “Who invited you here?”
“Several people, actually. I have a lot of friends in this room.” Preed turns his steady gaze back to me, and I have to force myself not to shift uncomfortably in my seat.
Although I know it’s his intention, I can’t help but look at these people I’ve worked with for months and wonder if we’re not as close as I think.
“Who the hell is this guy?” Rama asks irritably, and I want to laugh at the look on Preed’s face. He thinks everyone should know him.
Lifting his chin, Preed says, “I forgot you’re new. Allow me to introduce myself. Preed Pra Saowaluk.” He holds out his hand for Rama to shake, but Rama ignores it.
“I see Pravat has poisoned your mind against me,” Preed says coldly, withdrawing his hand.
My amusement turns to trepidation at the anger now radiating off my ex-co-star. The last thing I want is that anger focused on Rama.
“Actually, he’s never mentioned you,” Rama says, then snaps his fingers, eyes lighting up. “Wait, I have read about you.”
Preed’s pleased look turns sour with Rama’s next words.
“You’re the guy who fell for Pravat in his last drama, then failed to click with your new co-star. Tough break.”
Naa’dir snorts beer up her nose and fumbles for a napkin.
Under cover of the table, I take Rama’s hand and squeeze it in warning. I appreciate his loyalty, but I don’t want him to become Preed’s next target.
Clearing my throat, I offer an olive branch to Preed.
“I heard you’re signed for a new series.”
Preed peels his gaze off Rama to look at me. “Two, actually. Back-to-back.”
“That’s a little risky,” Aran says. “What if you suck?”
“Aran.” Preed curls his upper lip. “Played another secondary part, didn’t you? Always the bridesmaid, never the bride.”
“Fuck off,” Tait says, scooting his chair out from the table and getting to his feet.
At that moment the music cuts off. I look up as Tida speaks into a microphone, telling us that episode one will be airing in a few minutes, and we should take seats at the other side of the club.
Turning away from Preed, I place my hand at Rama’s back and guide him in the direction of the couches and chairs arranged in front of the screen.
“You two sit here.” Tida directs us to a red velvet love seat. I notice a guy ready to film our reactions to the episode. I’m relieved when Tait and Aran sit nearby and, looking over my shoulder, spot Preed near the back sitting with the group of women I noticed at the bar earlier.
There’s nothing more exciting than seeing a series pulled together on film, and I’m soon lost in it. Every so often I remember Rama seated beside me and glance at him. He seems as mesmerized as I am. Moving my hand slightly, I press it against Rama’s, eyes turning back to the screen.