Chapter 8 #2
Peter. He was…just plain, really. Grey. But his eyes were twinkly and he looked…wrung out. In a way I recognised, and that in itself? I could do this. I could ask for what I needed, and I already felt calmer when he was around. Like we were in this total mess together somehow.
Crazy stuff in my frazzled head, but it was the vibe I was going with. Clinging to. Desperately at this point.
“Absolutely. And what word is this?”
“My stomach is grumbling.”
“So is mine.”
“No, you plonker. That’s what I’ll say. My stomach is grumbling. Then you drag me off to find food. Or hide.”
“We’re allowed to go for walks. Diane told me, for exercise.”
“We’re not prisoners, you know.”
“Feels like it. So I can ask for food too, and you’ll rescue me?”
“Absolutely. And another thing, I think we need to start reading this call sheet. The catering van outside serves food until seven. After that, we need to order in whatever we fancy and pay for it ourselves. And looking in the fridges outside?”
“Oat milk.”
“Yes. And some fancy yoghurt product that is sponsoring us.”
“We might need to go shopping. Is that a minifridge under the sink? And is there a shop of some sort here? It all looked like an industrial estate when I came in earlier. Not much around.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty dire, but according to this…
” I had to rustle through the wad of paperwork again.
“There’s a local curry house that delivers, and there’s a corner shop two blocks up.
I looked on maps before they took my phone off me, but it’s only open ten to seven.
I suppose we need to go get food, and try to go for supplies. ”
“Together?”
“Well, we’re partners, aren’t we? And who knows? We might just make it to the final and get fake married in some castle sponsored by a yoghurt company?”
“Oh God, Oliver. What have I done?”
“My stomach is grumbling.”
“Then let’s go.”
We did, surprisingly, get on, walking together along deserted roads, finally coming across a run-down shop that sold us both proper teabags and biscuits.
A few drinks. Semi-skimmed milk. All little comfort things we could keep at hand without the need to venture out amongst the rest of the strangers we’d been tucked up with.
“I’m not here to make friends,” I declared to the empty road, walking back. Peter nodded in agreement. Nor was I here to show off my acting skills. Nothing made sense in there, but out here? Calm. How I needed this!
Having consumed food, and once again been scolded by a runner for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and after using the wrong entrance to get back in, we found the common room was deserted, since right now, according to the call sheet, we would have free time to get to know each other in the confinement of our apartments.
We’d barely had time to close the door behind us before the door burst open, and some production person demanded to come in and check our cameras. No sooner had he left than the door opened again, to Ben.
“You’re really fit,” he declared, staring at me. “I’d do you.”
I said nothing. What kind of a statement was that? And anyway, I was…
“Dude, how do you work the shower?” he continued, now staring at Peter. “It’s like all knobs and no colours.”
“I don’t know?” Peter declared, looking bewildered as Ben just disappeared out again.
“We need a lock on this door,” I decided.
“There’s no lock?”
“Nope.”
“Oh God.”
He said that a lot, Peter, standing there just looking at me again. I suppose the day’s events had been a good thing because despite feeling weirded out by the prospect of not only sharing space but also sharing a double bed…with Peter?
“You get changed,” he said, reaching out and grabbing the microphone from around my neck. “We’re getting rid of these now. I don’t care what time it is; I’ve had enough for one day. Absolutely enough.”
I agreed, watching him take the electronic devices, walking out the door and hanging them outside. As per the call sheet, which by now we had both been over and chewed and swallowed. Literally, of course. There were a lot of rules. Too much to take in, and to be honest? Enough. I agreed.
“I…only have a T-shirt. I didn’t bring… Like. I expected to have a full-on boyfriend and perhaps get lucky,” I admitted. “How naive was I?”
“Assumptive perhaps.” He smiled, still clutching our bag of shopping. “Is that how it works? You just jump into bed with people?”
“Well, Ben there seemed game?” I was joking. Perhaps he was, but… No. I was far too sober. Far too aware of myself and my surroundings.
“Would you…do him?”
Peter was a gentleman and all that, but he didn’t half ask direct questions. “I don’t…well. Ben? No. Absolutely not. I mean, he’s… No. No. He told me…and that was on camera earlier by the way, that he has a eight-and-a-half-inch dick, like that’s supposed to be impressive.”
Oh God, indeed. I was starting to sound like every reality show star I had ever seen. Not impressive in any way. Not cute. Not smart. But I had only said it to see if I could make Peter blush again. Another tick off the list right there.
“Isn’t that how it works for you youngsters? You just say it like it is? I’d like to hop into bed with you?”
“Would you?”
“NO!” He laughed. Thank you, universe.
“I would say…that is not how this works,” I continued gently. “Well…not for me. On a night out, if someone… If I vibe with someone and one thing leads to another. It’s just sex. It doesn’t lead to anything. Perhaps I was hoping…”
Childish. Stupid. How ridiculous was I? Thank God I’d dumped the microphone because this was definitely stuff that shouldn’t be preserved for prosperity. Or broadcast to the nation.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got sons. It’s all very different these days. I don’t judge. How can I?”
“I’ve…” I started, and then I swallowed my words. It was too early. Too soon.
“We have time,” he said, saving me from myself. “I hope we can talk about things and actually get to know each other. It would be nice to have a friend.”
“Absolutely,” I agreed. “But then I didn’t come here for a friend, did I?”
A friend was not what I’d expected. But it was better than nothing, and his offer of letting me use the bathroom first and then turning away as I quickly got myself into bed was a welcome gesture.
As was the cool beer he offered up in bed.
And the conversation that followed. Easy, simple.
Gentle. Not that it mattered, but we were two grown men in a small double bed.
It was still awkward, however hard we tried to make it not be.
“This is…awkward,” I started. Someone had to say it out loud.
“I am going to go to sleep,” he declared, placing his now empty bottle on the floor. Reaching back and fluffing up his pillow.
One beer had made me stupid.
“Do I not get a good-night kiss for the cameras?” I asked, hoping he’d smile.
“Oh God.” He sighed, but it was followed by a giggle.
“Just kidding,” I followed up, glad for the relief of him gently patting me on the arm.
“Night, Oliver,” he said. Then he turned over.
“I’ve never… I mean…”
Oh fuck.
“Sleep,” Peter said sternly. “No more. We have time to get to know each other, but for now, I can barely keep my eyes open, let alone control my mouth. No more talking.”
I thought I agreed with that. For now.
I woke up, not realising I had slept at first, but it was morning and I was feeling weirdly…
refreshed, if that was the correct word, and found my nose pressed against Peter’s arm.
Peter who was…still fast asleep. The decent thing here was to get up and get out before he realised that I was nuzzling into his wrist like some loser, so that was exactly what I did.
I got some socks and an oversized hoodie from my still unpacked bag and snuck out the door, hoping to score some cups of hot water for our teabags, or perhaps even a coffee machine.
Or perhaps the catering truck outside would be open?
Coffee would be good. Cups would be handy. Proper ones.
Well. The common room, which last night had been a tidy place of deserted calm, was…
what I could only describe as…wrecked. The armchair in the corner housed…
Anne. All curled up with a blanket. On the sofa was who I thought might be Ben, his feet entwined with Xanthe’s, who was top and tailing that particular section of the now pulled-apart sofa.
I had no idea whose body was on the last section because their blanket was way over their head.
And here I was, trying to tiptoe over a plastic bottle and cushions and someone’s shoes, hoping not to wake people up. But there was a coffee machine. And a kettle that was still warm as I pressed my hand to the side. And a ripped open pack of teabags. Wow. Good stuff.
Tea it was then, because pressing buttons on that coffee thing would make noise, and I was not willing to engage in conversation with anyone right now.
“Babe.”
Shit. Wren. Looking absolutely gorgeously dishevelled, her blonde locks hanging messily around her bare face. And the velour tracksuit that was spraypainted over her skin gave…well. Nipples. In my face. I must have grimaced as she giggled.
“Too much for your delicate gay brain, babe?”
“Wren,” I groaned.
“I know, honey. It’s just boobs. You’re lucky I haven’t got a dick because I’d be all over you. So cute.”
Not cute. But whatever.
“I think,” she purred, “we need to set up your hunky silver daddy with my mousy housewife. What do you think?”
My reaction was…weird. I should laugh and agree, but I was…surprised to find myself weirdly protective of Peter.
“He’s a nice guy. I might just keep him.” I grinned.
“Oh, get off it. He’s as straight as anything. What are you going to do with him? Grow old gracefully? When was the last time you got laid?”
She was wearing her mic, which I wasn’t. Because I’d forgotten and I had no idea what time it was.
“Not relevant,” I hissed. For heaven’s sake.
“Very much so. Desperate is not a good look, sweetheart. Now. If we get Diane and your sugar daddy set up, then I can free up my bed for the gorgeous girls I intend to snag. If you hadn’t noticed.” She winked. I must have just looked clueless.
“Oh come on,” she huffed. “You can’t be that dumb. Level with me. Us queers need to stick together.”
“I have no idea what you mean,” I said briskly, trying to walk off as she grabbed my arm.
“The new guys who got moved in last night? Did you not notice all the commotion? Two girls, two boys. All queer. Things are about to heat up, baby. Which is why Anne is on the sofa here, because…Yeah. Someone got frisky, and that Thom is hot as fuck. Jorge walked out too, which was great because there were a few of them in his bed. Fun times. But back to Thom, you’d like him.
Tall…fit. Arrogant as anything, but yeah. He’ll like you.”
“Wren. No. But Jorge? He walked?”
“Walked straight out, didn’t even say goodbye to Anne here. Well, there was some kind of orgy going on in his bed, so yeah. Didn’t go down well, and Anne wasn’t too impressed either.”
“Oh.”
“But, no stress.” She smiled knowingly. “I intend to have two hot girls in my bed by tonight. Diane needs to have somewhere else to sleep because if I have to put up with her crying in the night again, I’ll blow my fuse.
I didn’t come into this to be some kind of therapy person.
I’m here to get laid, and so should you be. ”
Was I? I…
Because… Crap. Shit. And absolutely not.
I took my cups of tea and fled. Because apparently? I had zero backbone and no idea what I was in for here.