Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Leo
The Sam Wanamaker Playhouse is a lesson in how to create an intimate atmosphere.
Candlelight flickers from chandeliers that look like they were imported from the sixteenth century, casting shadows across the three tiers of seating.
Andrew messaged me asking if I wanted to come and see Romeo and Juliet performed in the indoor part of The Globe Theatre. And even though I’ve never been much of a Shakespeare fan, not growing up in a house where literature was consumed, I accepted the invitation.
Why?
The question sits uncomfortably inside me.
If I’m honest with myself, I accepted because I thought bringing Elizabeth here might impress her.
Apparently, I’m trying to win the approval of the fake boyfriend I’m sleeping with’s godmother.
Fuck, this is getting complicated.
Elizabeth sweeps ahead of Archie and me, completely at ease, greeting someone in the audience.
Of course this is her natural habitat.
But my biggest problem isn’t trying to conceal my ignorance in front of Archie’s aristocratic godmother at a culturally significant theatrical venue.
My biggest problem is that all I want to do is touch Archie.
My hand is resting at the small of his back now.
I’m steadying him. The floor could be uneven. It’s practical.
Except my thumb is tracing small circles against his spine, and there’s nothing practical about that.
The problem with sleeping with Archie Mansley is that it makes it very difficult to think about anything else.
We had a civilized dinner with Elizabeth last night, but the whole time I was trying not to remember what had happened that afternoon. Replaying Archie on his knees for me.
And we barely made it through the bedroom door last night before Archie was pulling at my shirt, his mouth hot against my throat. I’d wanted to take my time with him, but Archie had different ideas.
Archie always has different ideas.
He’d shoved me onto the bed and climbed on top of me with a look that suggested patience was for lesser mortals.
And when he’d sunk down onto me, both of us groaning at the feeling, any plans I’d had dissolved into pure sensation.
The memory of Archie riding me with his head thrown back and his fingernails digging into my chest, gasping out commands like a particularly bossy dictator, has been playing on a continuous loop all day.
Along with the sounds he made when I flipped us over and took control, the way he wrapped his good leg around my waist and demanded, “Harder, Leo. I’m not made of glass. ”
Then this morning. Archie, warm and sleep-soft, pulled me into him before either of us was fully awake, murmuring “again” against my mouth.
My rating went up to nine point seven five, for the record.
I still don’t know how I feel about sleeping with Archie when he doesn’t know the truth about his accident.
Guilty. That’s the obvious answer. I feel guilty.
But who exactly would my confession be for? Archie didn’t ask for it. In fact, Archie specifically asked me not to. Confessing right now would be about me, not him. And I don’t get to blow up his life just because the weight of this is getting uncomfortable for me.
“There’s nothing you could tell me that would change the fact that I want to do this.”
His words echo in my head. The way his eyes went slightly panicked when he thought I was about to reveal something heavy. The speed with which he shut down any possibility of confession.
I need to respect his wishes. He asked me to respect his desire to keep things light.
Do I have the right to decide he doesn’t get to have that?
He turns to me now, those hazel eyes catching the candlelight, and for a second, I lose my train of thought entirely.
“Remember, you need to use my pet name for me tonight,” he says in a low tone.
“You want me to call you my little chaos gremlin in public?” I clarify.
“That’s the one.” He grins impishly at me.
Shit. I have such a desire to kiss his smile.
Archie seems to read the intent in my eyes, because his smile grows even more.
“Steady on, Snugglesaurus. We’re in public,” he keeps his voice low. “Although I guess it is appropriate for a T. rex to look like they want to devour someone, so congrats on the excellent role-playing.”
Luckily, I’m spared from replying by the fact that we’ve reached the row where Andrew and Justin are sitting.
Although Andrew and Justin standing to greet us just triggers another spiral inside me.
Fuck, how much time did I spend telling Andrew that he needed to be honest with Justin? And here I am, only a few months later, caught in a deceptive web myself. I’m not telling the truth to Archie. Together, Archie and I are deceiving Elizabeth.
Apparently, I’m much better at giving advice than following it.
I’ve prepared Andrew for the fact that Elizabeth thinks Archie and I are in a relationship. His response was a series of increasingly incredulous texts, culminating in:
So you lecture ME about honesty and then do THIS?
But Andrew’s and my friendship runs deep. I know he’ll have my back on this.
“Leo.” Andrew clasps my hand. “Glad you could make it.”
“Wouldn’t miss it.” I turn so I can make the introductions. “Andrew, this is Archie and his godmother Elizabeth. Archie, Elizabeth, this is my friend Andrew and his boyfriend Justin.”
Justin extends his hand to Elizabeth first, his charming smile firmly in place. “Lovely to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too,” Elizabeth says.
Andrew greets Elizabeth before turning to Archie.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Archie. Although, I have to admit that I’m a bit perturbed Leo has waited so long to introduce me to his new boyfriend.”
Fuck. Andrew might have my back, but I recognize that glint in his eye. This is payback for the time I walked in on him and Justin and put him on the spot.
“Oh, we’ve been so caught up in each other that we haven’t really been out of our apartment much,” Archie says.
“But Leo’s told me all about you, of course.
How you grew NovaCore together. I love the story about how you broke the office sprinkler system when trying to open the champagne to celebrate your Series B funding. ”
Andrew looks taken aback. Exactly how I feel.
Because I have never told Archie that story. I have a vague recollection of mentioning it once in an interview years ago, but I can’t recall exactly where.
Apparently, Archie has been doing some research, and his eidetic memory strikes again.
“Leo told you that?” Andrew asks.
“Leo tells me everything. Don’t you, babe?” Archie says. His finger pokes into my back.
“Of course I do, my little chaos gremlin,” I say dutifully.
Andrew’s eyebrows fly up to his hairline. “Chaos gremlin?”
“I know. Leo’s just so romantic once you get past that stoic exterior,” Archie gushes. “Honestly, sometimes I have to tell him to tone down the pet names. It’s almost embarrassing.”
Andrew lets out an incredulous laugh, and I keep my expression carefully neutral.
But when Archie turns to say something to Elizabeth, Andrew catches my eye. The laughter has drained from his face, and he gives me a questioning look. I know he’s asking if Archie knows about Vaughn.
I give a barely perceptible shake of my head.
Andrew’s jaw tightens. He looks at Archie—who is currently talking to Elizabeth about the acoustics of the playhouse—and then back at me, and his expression says everything his mouth can’t right now.
The noise around us suddenly fades as the musicians in the gallery begin playing the opening music.
Perfect timing. I’ve had about as much drama as I can handle tonight, and the play hasn’t even started yet.
We shuffle into the row, the narrow bench forcing us into close proximity. I end up sitting between Archie and Andrew, which feels less like a seating arrangement and more like divine punishment.
Archie’s thigh presses warm against mine. Andrew is still smirking.
I’m now sandwiched between the friend I lectured about honesty and the man I’m lying to.
This is going to be a long two hours.
The last murmurs of the audience fade as a single actor emerges onto the thrust stage. The candlelight catches the gold thread in his costume, and for a moment, the four centuries between Shakespeare and us seem to collapse entirely.
He begins the prologue.
Two households, both alike in dignity,
In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.
From forth the fatal loins of these two foes
A pair of star-cross’d lovers take their life;
Whose misadventur’d piteous overthrows
Do with their death bury their parents’ strife.
The fearful passage of their death-mark’d love,
And the continuance of their parents’ rage,
Which, but their children’s end, nought could remove,
Is now the two hours’ traffic of our stage;
The which if you with patient ears attend,
What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.
“I’ve never understood why they give away the whole plot in the beginning,” Archie says in an undertone. “It’s the theatrical equivalent of reading the last page of a book first.”
I huff out a laugh. Archie flashes me a quick smile before returning his attention to the stage.
“I don’t think this is supposed to be one of Shakespeare’s comedies,” Andrew whispers from my other side.
Andrew might be correct in a literary sense, but he’s never encountered someone like Archie Mansley because that’s only the beginning of Archie’s commentary.
“She’s only thirteen,” he whispers to me as Juliet makes her entrance. “This is really just a cautionary tale about unsupervised teenagers. Someone should have grounded both of them.”
During the next scene, he declares, “Mercutio is definitely in love with Romeo. The text refuses to address this, but look at him. He’s furious about the Rosaline situation. That’s not friendship energy.”