Chapter 8
Eight
A few moments ago, if River had been able to get up and dance around the room, that’s what he’d have done.
He’d managed to say coffee and cup and book and yes, and Newt had looked so pleased with him, and he’d felt so fucking pleased with himself, that hope had almost choked him.
River finally believed he could do this.
He would do this. It might only be a few words but it was more progress than he’d made with the other speech therapists who’d been too obsessed with him copying the sounds they made. Oooo. Ahhhh. Eeee. Uuuuugh.
However, that was a few moments ago, and now that excitement had gone.
It had been zapped away in a flash to be replaced by a churning stomach and racing heart.
Because as much as he didn’t like Jorge, the idea of Newt touching him, rubbing his arms, massaging his legs, massaging him anywhere, filled him with horror.
Not because he didn’t like Newt. He did like him. Too much. That was the problem.
No way could Newt put his hands on him without River’s cock reacting.
Fine if he was face down, probably, but he’d have to turn over at some point.
That fuckhead Jorge had told him at the first session that he wasn’t to worry if he got an erection, that it was a normal physical reaction to touch or relaxation.
Fuck you, River had thought. And it had never been a problem. Probably because he loathed Jorge.
With Newt, it would be a problem. As River was on the point of running away, Newt had done the running instead.
River doubted he needed the bathroom. Newt hadn’t asked why River didn’t want him to act as his physio.
Except how the fuck would he have been able to explain?
If you touch me, I’m worried my dick will go hard.
No way was he miming any of that. Though it would make Newt laugh, and he liked making Newt laugh.
It was crazy to think he’d worried for so long about his cock staying resolutely soft, despite all his best tricks and a reliably vivid imagination, and now he was worrying in case it went hard.
But it would. He’d recognised the signs.
The warmth, the tingling sensation when Newt had touched him or he’d touched Newt.
Danger signals sounding in his head. He’d been able to fight it so far but with Newt’s hands all over him? No way.
Newt was too tempting and River’s willpower was not at its strongest. The accident had destroyed his libido and Newt had resurrected it.
A relief and a problem. It was better that Newt not touch him.
Safer. He might get the wrong idea, which wouldn’t be entirely the wrong idea, but it wasn’t something River could let happen.
Everyone thought River was straight. The entire world apart from Max.
River was on his third high-profile girlfriend.
None had been conventional relationships.
All had been engineered. All had been mutually beneficial.
None had lasted long. Everyone knew he and Dila were together.
There were pictures of them together all over social media: TikTok, Facebook, X, Instagram…
So it had to be true. Ha! But one day, the arrangement with Dila would end and that would mean suitably sad faces for a while, and River would hold out as long as he could before Max linked him to someone else.
River did as he was told. It had been made clear that he had to.
He owed Max so much. River didn’t want to disappoint him and he knew the roles he’d be offered would decline if he came out.
Both he and Max had seen it happen over and over.
Newt came back into the room. “Sandwich okay for lunch?”
“Yes.”
River wanted Newt to smile at him for saying yes but he hadn’t looked his way.
He wished he could explain why he didn’t want Newt touching him, but even if he’d been able to speak, what could he have said?
Not the truth. So maybe it was better that Newt thought the worst of him.
That I’m a homophobe? Shit no! River didn’t want him to think that.
And what were those bruises all over Newt’s body?
It looked as though someone had beaten him up.
River should have pointed at them when they were down at the pool, got Newt to tell him, but after he’d exhausted himself swimming, he’d known that if he didn’t lie down, he’d collapse.
It had been as much as he could do to put one foot in front of another to get back to his room where he’d howled into his pillow.
It made no difference to the pain but it was the only way he’d fight it.
No more pills. They were too dangerous. The world had looked wrong when he was medicated and getting addicted to floating was too tempting because there would be a fall.
He watched Newt as he worked, wishing he knew what he was thinking, yet sort of thankful he didn’t.
“This afternoon, we’re going to watch one of your films. You can decide which one.”
What the fuck? They were not going to watch one of his films. Why would he willingly put himself through the torture of seeing himself talking and running and…doing anything he couldn’t currently do? Hell no. He went over to Newt and shook his head.
“You don’t want to?”
Isn’t that what shaking my head means?
He tried to say no. “Nurf.” Shit. “Nef.”
“Try again. Yes. Yes.”
River almost laughed but managed to glare. “Nuff… Nut… No. No. No!” He yelled the last no.
“No need to shout. I sort of regret you learning that word. Let me explain why I think you should say yes. I have a theory. If you can remember your lines, you might be able to say them alongside the you on the screen, and speak without thinking too hard. That’s my theory. Have you tried to do that?
River opened and closed his mouth, then shook his head, took a risk and said, “No.” Clear as a bell. Well, it sounded right to him.
“Want to try? I think it’s worth a shot.”
Newt looked so hopeful, River gave in and nodded.
“I might have to ration your no’s.”
River managed a smile. “No.”
“Yes. Five left today.” Newt grinned and went on his phone. “There’s a list of your films on Wikipedia. I’ll read them out and you stop me when I get to the one you think we should watch.”
You don’t know my films? Had Newt seen any of them? That brought him up short. He wanted to ask Newt to pick his favourite. Damn not being able to speak. He couldn’t think of a way to mime favourite. Well, one way, but he wasn’t going to cross his hands over his heart and point to Newt.
Newt started to read and when he said, “Victim Thirteen,” River said, “Yes.”
“Do you have it on Blu Ray or do we need to look for it on Netflix or something?”
He put up one finger.
“Blu-ray. Great.”
They ate lunch; tuna and mayo sandwiches with a few cherry tomatoes. Newt chatted about what they could have for dinner. River shook his head at nachos but nodded to baked potato, peas and fish. He had little interest in food but knew he had to eat.
He made them both coffee while Newt loaded the dishwasher.
“Have you noticed you’re hardly limping?”
He hadn’t, but now Newt had mentioned it, he made sure he limped dramatically all the way to the couch.
Newt sniggered and brought the coffees over.
River pulled out the drawer where he kept Blu-rays of his films, bought by him, not supplied by the film company.
He remembered being shocked that generally didn’t happen.
You had to buy your own. He liked having a physical copy even though the films could be accessed on streaming services.
Probably like authors wanting a physical copy of an ebook.
Newt came up at his shoulder. “All these are yours? Wow. You’ve been in a lot.”
That was fucking irritating. Didn’t he know anything about him? River pointed to Newt, then gestured at the contents of the drawer and raised his shoulders.
Newt looked…guilty? “You’re asking which ones I’ve seen?”
River nodded.
“Sorry. I’ve not seen any. Big confession coming now. You might need to sit down. When Max told me who the job was for, I hadn’t heard of you.”
River felt his jaw drop and slammed his mouth shut. What the fuck?
“Max looked so horrified—a bit like you look now—I backtracked and said I was kidding.” He winced. “I’m sorry I lied. I don’t go to the cinema. I don’t watch TV. I read. A lot. Almost every genre. And I like music.”
River sat down. There were so many questions he wanted to ask and he couldn’t manage one. He was well known in the UK and in the States. He’d been in a couple of massively successful films, and it felt weird that Newt had never heard of him. That sounded arrogant but… Yeah, it is arrogant.
“I signed an NDA. I’ll never tell anyone about you. Not just because of the NDA. Your medical issues are private. I respect that.”
“Hu… Gur… Good.”
Newt beamed. “Am I a brilliant teacher or are you an incredible student?”
River patted his own chest. Newt stuck out his chin, patted his chest too and they both smiled.
Shit. How am I supposed to resist you? Even if you’d never heard of me. River suddenly realised the significance of that. To not be recognised was something special and rare. Newt hadn’t come here excited to be meeting a movie star. River should be pleased Newt had never heard of him.
The film started and Newt sat at the far end of the couch. Well, River deserved that.
It was a while before he spoke in this film. He was playing a psychopath who’d set up his brother for the murders he’d committed. When River heard himself speak, he tensed. Newt paused the film, rewound it and paused it again.
“Try and say the lines at the same time. I will too.”
When the film played again, Newt said the lines a fraction behind River on screen. “You are mine. And I’m never letting you go. You will die. I promise. But only when I want you to. Remember that.”