Gabriel
Group dinner shoots are always fun. Chaotic and crazy, but fun. I love my castmates and always look forward to any time we get to spend together. With both Scooter and Cabot leaving at the end of last season, it's down to just the four of us now. Keegan, Blaine, Seth, and me.
Admittedly, I'd be a little happier if we weren't having a BBQ wearing nothing more than a Speedo in the middle of winter outside on a patio, but, hey, it's an LA winter, so it could be a lot worse.
It conveniently allows Keegan to show off his latest tattoo, a coiled snake in muted greens and blacks running along his ribs, still faintly pink at the edges. His entire body is impressive, his skin a map of ink from collarbone to calf. Not personally my thing, but it looks great on him.
After taking a short break to adjust for the dimming light, we're straight back into it.
"So, you two seem mighty cozy," Blaine observes, sounding relatively natural even though it's the fourth take.
Seth sidles up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist.
"Cut!" the director yells, exasperated. "Seth, what did I tell you? No physical contact. It gets Gabriel excited, and then we can't use the footage."
I blush, embarrassed that my body reacts the way it does whenever Seth touches me.
"Shit, I'm sorry," he calls out to the director, then, noticing my flushed cheeks, he stands in front of me, hooks his finger under my chin, and tilts my head up until our eyes meet. "I'm sorry. I can't seem to keep my hands off you…"
Keep going. Don't stop there. You can't keep your hands off me because…you're madly in love with me, too, and want to be with me forever and ever?
A guy can dream, right?
I huff out a small smile. "It's fine. Don't know why my body is misbehaving."
"And action!"
"So, you two seem mighty cozy," Blaine repeats for the fifth time now.
Seth approaches and stops a good six feet away from me this time. "What can I say? I can't seem to keep my hands off this one."
"Cut! You can't say that and not have your hands on him."
"But I thought you said not to touch him?"
The director exhales slowly and scrubs a hand down the side of his face.
It's going to be a looong shoot.
"Sorry I was off my game tonight," Seth says when he sneaks into my room, closing the door quietly but letting a loud yawn escape.
"You were fine," I tell him, lifting up my covers so he can join me in bed.
"No, I kept messing up," he insists, peeling off his tank top and sleep shorts in quick succession. My eyes soak in his hard muscles, and even though he's not hard, his soft uncut cock is still impressively long, swinging between his legs.
"We all have off days," I say.
He gets in, lies on his side, and smiles. "You always know how to make me feel better."
"Well, I have known you for seven years."
"Where does the time go?"
"Usually up my ass."
He grins but says nothing, something flickering in his light-brown eyes. I can't quite figure out what, though.
"You sure nothing else is up?" I check, sensing something else might be playing on his mind.
"And now you're psychic, too," he says through a grin. "Mom texted while I was showering. She's met someone. Stefan. Says she's madly in love."
"Oh, man." I wince. "I mean, it could be different this time."
Seth's face resembles the time a client refused a necessary, life-saving treatment for their dog. "Could be, but more than likely won't be."
How can two people have the misfortune of stumbling from one terrible marriage to another eleven freaking times between them? That has to be nearing a world record of some kind.
"I don't know what else to say."
"Really? I would've thought you'd have your lines memorized by now. I've been here before so many times."
He's trying to make light of it, but his hurt is even clearer to see. Despite all the crazy, he loves his parents, and they love him. They're both actually good people with literally the worst luck in the world.
His fingers graze my shoulder. "Sometimes I wonder how different I'd be if my parents hadn't divorced. Or even if they had but then went on to only marry once more. You know?"
"I do," I say, relating because that's exactly what my mom and dad did.
They split up when I was ten and each remarried.
And stayed remarried. It was a hard thing to navigate once.
I can't imagine what it'd be like going through it over and over and over again. It'd be like a never-ending nightmare.
"I… I wonder if I'd be able to have a normal relationship," he says then quickly looks away.
A knife slices my heart. I want that for him.
So badly. Even if he didn't choose me, he deserves to be in love, to have a partner to share his life with.
I get his aversion to anything remotely resembling a relationship; I just hate that it's caused him to miss out on one of the best things in the world.
"We have each other," I say, grabbing his hand under the sheets.
"We do." His eyes meet mine. "Ready for a confession?"
I nod. "Sure."
"I secretly like the fact we're together on the show. It feels like the real thing without being the real thing, you know?"
My throat clogs as my brain tries to decipher his words. Is that a good thing, or is it a low-key backhanded diss?