Chapter 13
The Height of the Roman Empire
Vince
The weather snaps back to normal the day after it rained. Andy, thank God, keeps all his clothes on during our runs. But if he ever decides to pull that stunt again, I might have to fake a serious illness just to keep my sanity.
After weeks of running at Warner Park, I suggest a change of scenery. Andy says he loves Warner Park and doesn't see a need to switch it up, but I insist. LA has so many beautiful spots, and he deserves to see more of them.
The Porsche glides to a stop at the curb, the engine settling into a low purr.
I kill the ignition, the sudden silence amplifying the distant hum of city life.
Andy squints out the passenger window, his brow furrowed in concentration as he takes in the sprawling greenery of the park.
"This is new," he says, his voice a low murmur.
"Thought we could use a change of pace," I reply, popping my door open. "Besides, this place has a view you don't want to miss. It's practically a rite of passage."
Andy follows me out, his gaze sweeping across the landscape. The sun hangs high in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the manicured lawns and meandering pathways. Towering palms sway gently in the breeze, their fronds creating a dappled pattern on the ground below.
We set off at a leisurely pace, the rhythm of our footsteps a familiar comfort. The trail winds its way around a large pond, the water shimmering under the bright sunlight. As we approach, a cacophony of honking fills the air, a symphony of avian chaos.
Andy stops dead in his tracks, his eyes wide with childlike wonder. "Whoa," he breathes, a grin spreading across his face. "Geese."
I can't help but laugh. "You act like you've never seen one before."
"Not like this," he says, his voice filled with genuine excitement. "There isn't much nature out here in the city. Not compared to where I grew up, you know? These honking birds are making my day."
He pulls out his phone, his fingers flying across the screen as he starts snapping pictures. I lean against a nearby tree, content to watch him. He's so animated, so completely absorbed in the moment, that I can't help but feel a warmth spread through my chest.
"You know, they're actually territorial," I warn, my tone casual. "You might want to keep your distance."
Andy waves a dismissive hand, his focus still on the geese. "Relax, old man. I know how to handle a few birds."
I watch, a mix of amusement and apprehension churning in my gut, as he creeps closer to the water's edge.
He crouches down, his phone held at arm's length, trying to capture the perfect shot.
One of the larger geese, a formidable creature with a long neck and beady eyes, takes notice.
It lets out a low, guttural honk, its head bobbing in a warning.
Andy, oblivious, inches even closer.
The goose's honk escalates into a full-throated hiss. It lowers its head, its wings flapping in a display of aggression, and charges.
"Shit!" Andy yelps, stumbling backward. He trips over his own feet, landing hard on the grass. The goose, relentless, continues its advance, its honks echoing through the park.
I freeze, my heart hammering against my ribs. My mind races, a frantic scramble of thoughts.
Andy scrambles to his feet, a mixture of fear and laughter on his face. He sprints away, the goose in hot pursuit. He's laughing so hard he can barely breathe, his body shaking.
I, on the other hand, am freaking the hell out.
My feet are rooted to the spot, my mind a blank slate of panic. I can only watch, my heart in my throat, as the chase unfolds.
Andy finally puts some distance between himself and his feathered assailant, doubling over as a fit of laughter overtakes him. He wipes a tear from his eye, his face flushed with exertion and amusement.
"You—" he gasps, pointing a finger at me. "You just stood there!"
"I was going to intervene!" I protest, my voice a little too high. "I was just... strategizing."
Andy bursts into another fit of laughter, his body shaking uncontrollably. "Strategizing? I was about to be murdered by an angry bird, and you were strategizing?"
"I genuinely thought that goose was going to take you down," I retort, a defensive edge creeping into my voice.
"And you didn't even try to save me?" he says, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "You didn't throw yourself in front of the goose, like a true hero?"
I roll my eyes, but I can't suppress a smile. "I'm not sacrificing myself for a man who can't even outrun a goose."
Andy's laughter subsides, but the grin remains. He shakes his head, a look of mock disappointment on his face. "I'm disappointed, Vince. Truly."
He turns and starts walking back towards me, his steps slow. The goose, seemingly satisfied with its victory, retreats to the water's edge, its honks fading into the distance.
Andy is a fever in my bloodstream, an addiction I can't shake.
Every shared joke, every accidental touch sends another jolt through my system, and I'm losing track of where he ends and I begin.
My thoughts orbit him like planets around a sun, drawn by a gravity I can't explain or escape.
He's become a beautiful, terrifying obsession, a craving that gnaws at me even when he's not there, leaving me hollow and wanting.
Every day, I look forward to seeing him.
Andy is funny, smart, tough-spirited, and honest to a fault.
He doesn't hide his feelings or complain about his circumstances, he just keeps moving forward.
He has this way of saying exactly what he means without caring if it ruffles feathers.
I can talk to him for hours. He understands me in ways no one else does, and I get where he's coming from. I've never met anyone like him before.
Gary had been right, being friends with Andy is dangerous. But it's too late to stop now. We aren't just running buddies anymore; we're friends. Real friends. And I'm not going backward. I like him too much. I want to keep him. Whatever is brewing inside me, I'll bury it deep.
It'll be fine. Just fine.
"Hey, Andy," I say, catching my breath mid-run.
"Yeah?"
"What book are you reading right now?"
He glances at me, not even winded, while I struggle to keep up. "The Grapes of Wrath."
I laugh. "No, you're not."
He furrows his brows, a familiar annoyance etching lines between them—a look reserved just for me.
His lips betray him, still curved with that hint of a smile.
It's the same expression he offers on set when I crack some dumb joke, but seeing it here, stripped of context, sends my thoughts scattering.
"I read a lot of Steinbeck. What's wrong with that?" he asks, irritation threading through his words.
I stop abruptly, bending to retie a shoe that doesn't need it. Just a moment, a breath to compose myself. For reasons I can't quite grasp, this small exchange threatens to ignite me. Andy waits, his patience a stark contrast to my internal fire, kicking his feet idly to keep the blood flowing.
"What are you reading, then?" he asks.
"Mostly Latin lit. It's the only way to practice, so I don't forget it."
He blinks. "That's... dedicated."
"It's a dead language, but it was used at the height of the Roman Empire. It shaped how we communicate today. Isn't that cool?"
Andy laughs. "No, you dork. It's nerdy."
He's teasing, but the warmth in his smile, the way he seems to appreciate my complete dorkiness, sends my heart racing against my ribs.
I let the laughter settle in my chest like warm honey, shaking off the last tremors of amusement as I push myself upright.
The grass springs back beneath my feet, cool against my flushed skin.
Without a word, I lead us back onto the winding path, the rhythm of our footsteps falling into place once more, each stride carrying us deeper into the sun-drenched park.
"It's no nerdier than rereading books they forced on us in school. You do that for fun, you masochist."
I brace for his glare, but instead, he laughs. It's a light, genuine sound that makes his blue eyes sparkle. It tugs at something deep inside me, and I have to bite my bottom lip to stop from smiling too much. I focus on the trail ahead, trying to bury the feelings bubbling up in my chest.
Back at the car, the click of our seatbelt buckles echoes in the sudden quiet. Andy shifts in his seat, turning toward me with that lopsided grin that's become so familiar. "Hey, Vince?"
"Yeah?" I keep my eyes on the dashboard, pretending to adjust the air conditioning vents.
"We're friends now, right? Officially?" The words come out lighter than he probably intended, but I hear the weight beneath them.
I let the silence stretch for a beat too long, enjoying the way his shoulders tense just slightly. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Andy. We're running buds. I'm still conducting interviews for the friend position."
His smile falters, the corners of his mouth dipping as he turns to watch the parking lot through the passenger window. The afternoon sun catches the gold in his hair.
My stomach drops.
"Andy," I say, my voice suddenly hoarse. "That was... that was a terrible joke. Of course, we're friends."
He turns back slowly, his blue eyes searching mine. "You already have a lot people in your life. Your circle seems... established."
I force a laugh that sounds hollow in the confined space. "My circle? You mean Gary and Frank? They're practically my parole officers." I reach over and nudge his shoulder. "Besides, you're the only one who gets my obscure literary references without rolling your eyes."
A small smile returns to his lips, tentative but genuine. "That's because I'm secretly just as nerdy as you are."
A genuine laugh escapes me this time. "Wasn't much of a secret." I start the engine, the sudden roar filling the silence. "Now let's get out of here before those geese organize some sort of revenge plot."
He doesn't respond, his gaze fixed on something beyond the windshield. My fingers clench around the leather-wrapped steering wheel, the material cool against my heated skin.
"For the record," I say, each word carefully measured, "I have very few friends. A shit-ton of acquaintances, sure, but real friends? You're one of three people who knows about my marriage situation. And you're the only person who knows I'm not as good a runner as I claim to be."
Andy turns to me, one eyebrow arched in question. A faint smile touches his lips, and it hits me with the force of a physical blow. A blush creeps across his cheeks as he breaks our gaze, and I grip the wheel tighter, my pulse hammering against my ribs.
"You gonna be my fucking friend or not, Andy?" I ask, my voice deliberately light despite the frantic rhythm in my chest.
He chuckles, the sound warm and genuine. "Well, we can't do that because we're seeing other people, but... I'll be your regular friend."
My breath catches, a sharp inhale that turns to dust in my throat. The world tilts, the sunlight through the windshield fracturing into a thousand shards of impossible brightness.
Did those words actually leave his mouth, or did my own desperate mind conjure them from the static between us?
The silence cracks first—a choked sound from Andy, a hitch in my breath—then shatters into laughter that fills every corner of the car.
It's not just a sound but a current that flows between us, rippling through the confined space until it finds its release in tears.
My cheeks burn with the stretch of a smile that won't quit, and somewhere beneath the ache in my ribs, a weight I hadn't realized I was carrying lifts, leaving me light, breathless.
When I pull up to his building, the absence of his presence is immediate and profound.
His door clicks shut, and the passenger seat suddenly feels cavernous, cold in a way it hasn't been all morning.
Through the window, I watch his silhouette disappear behind the glass doors, the soft glow of the lobby swallowing him whole.
The way he turns to wave goodbye, his humor still sparkling in his eyes, leaves me grinning like an idiot the entire drive home. Each streetlight illuminates my reflection in the rearview mirror. I'm a man smiling at nothing, his expression unguarded in the privacy of his luxury car.
He terrifies me.
Not with his strength or his wit, but with the effortless way he's slipped past every defense I've spent years building. The engine hums beneath me, a familiar purr that usually soothes, but tonight it sounds like a warning.