Chapter 3 #3
Rachel makes a face and thumbs chewed croissant from her cheek while Blake grins in triumph. “It’s truly shocking you ‘don’t do’ relationships,” she deadpans, sizing him up with obvious distaste. “The boys and girls must be lining up and down the street for a taste of that.”
Flipping her the bird, Blake ducks behind the curtain and yanks it closed after him.
He takes a moment to chew and swallow and tries not to take Rachel’s dig personally, but really, she isn’t wrong.
He sucks, he’s nobody’s first choice for a boyfriend, why would he be?
What does he even have to offer any takers besides a mix of both daddy and mommy issues, a lackluster savings account, and shitty table manners?
Sarcasm. Blake has that going for him, and don’t you forget it.
“Make sure you talk about why you decided to stay,” Rachel calls through the curtain, and Blake rolls his eyes.
“Make sure you take the stick out of your ass,” he mumbles under his breath, wiping his greasy mouth on the hem of his t-shirt before clearing his throat and turning to face the camera more fully.
He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.
Bullshit, just spew some bullshit, Blake tells himself, but he’s coming up empty on what, exactly, that should be.
He scratches the back of his neck. “Alright,” he says, suddenly having another idea.
What if he treats this thing like a real confessional?
Pretend there’s a priest on the other side?
Nothing embarrassing, of course, but… maybe if he gives the crew something usable, the producers will leave him alone.
“Okay. So… what if I said, I’m thinking I might not want to be alone anymore?
That I’m not… ready to pack it in on finding someone to share my life with. ”
He pauses, licks his lips and thinks carefully about what he wants to say next.
He sits loosely, arms on his thighs, turning his palms up.
Jess once told him that open body language goes a long way towards making you seem convincing and honest, especially on camera.
Some shit she picked up in an acting class.
Blake takes a deep breath, and tries. “The life I live, the work I do, I pretty much just figured that that was all there was to me, you know? Sleep around and hook up and haul ass ’til I ran out of gas.
I guess I just thought, sooner or later, I'd go out the same way that I lived; fast, rough, alone. But now, um.” Blake pauses again, looks down at his shoes, jiggles his knee, and shakes his head.
“Recent events, uh, made me think I might be closer to that then I really thought. And I don't know, I just—” He sighs in frustration. “I’m late, you know? Late to my own party, or something. All I know is that what I’m doing doesn’t feel like it’s working anymore.
It’s crazy, all these new feelings that I never…
but I want those feelings. To experience them, or maybe experience life, and certain people that I meet, differently than I have before.
I’m thinking maybe it’s time for a change. "
He looks up, straight into the camera and says, “So I guess I’m gonna see what happens. Try to go a little deeper, no pun intended this time. I’m just — I’m starting to realize there's more to it all than I thought. Yeah.”
The curtain rustles and Rachel sticks her head in, looking like she just won the lottery.
“Holy fuck, Lawrence,” she says. “A-plus stuff, that was fuckin’ brilliant.
C’mon, I’ll get you a beer, you deserve it.
” She disappears again and Blake blinks, somewhat thrown at the revelation that anyone was listening in on his little moment.
He throws a last look at the camera before gathering himself, plastering on a smile, and following her out.
A beer sounds damn good right about now.
_____________________
Brew in hand, Blake goes in search of Pax.
He’s mysteriously disappeared from the group while Blake was busy being bullied into acting emotionally vulnerable with a camera lens, and is in none of the expected places.
Not the bedroom, the bathroom, or the kitchen.
Not in the ocean or down by the dock. Not making a fool of himself in the confessional.
After a bit of wandering and the ditching of his empty beer bottle in a potted plant, Blake finally stumbles upon Pax hiding in a shady patch behind one of the outer buildings.
It’s an area of the resort that’s dangerously close to the production quarters.
They’re not supposed to be back here, but it’s not like this is even the first rule he and Pax have broken today, so whatever.
When Blake turns the corner, Pax looks up like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
Except here, the cookie jar is a joint, and Pax is finishing up taking a pretty substantial hit.
He smiles guiltily and then looks down at his bare toes, cheeks flushing.
“I told you that you might not like what you find,” his gravely voice says. “And here you are, finding me anyway.”
“What, the weed?” Blake questions, stepping off of the sidewalk and crunching across bark and twigs to stand against the wall by Pax’s side.
The palm fronds overhead sway slowly, making the patchy sunlight on Pax’s face flicker.
He looks sad. Blake reaches down and takes what’s left of the joint from Pax’s hand, lifting it to his lips and inhaling.
It’s been ages since he did this, and only a few times with a bartender he used to see who liked to fuck high.
She was hot, but Blake was young and Hayden was still in high school.
By that time, Blake was all that was standing between his kid brother and a blue-collar life he didn’t deserve to be pigeon-holed into.
She never stood a chance in comparison, and Blake — well, Blake’s never come close to anything resembling a relationship since.
Until now.
He turns his head, looks down the scant two inches to meet Pax’s eyes, flicking his gaze down to Pax’s lips.
Pax seems to understand, and as he parts them, Blake leans in closer and releases the smoke.
They don’t break the rules again, their lips never touch, but Blake blows what’s in his lungs straight into Pax’s, and it’s easily as intimate as if they had.
“Hmm,” Paxton hums happily as Blake draws back and relaxes against the wall.
Next to him, Pax is looking much more at ease now, if somewhat glassier in the eyes.
“That was delightful.” When he speaks, the smoke escapes from his mouth, and Blake wishes he could chase it. “And not the response I was expecting.”
“I got no issue with pot, Pax,” Blake says, hooking his pinky finger into Paxton’s where it hangs at his side. In response, Paxton smiles, but something dark passes behind his eyes and he shifts his gaze down again.
“You may have an issue with why I use it,” he replies softly, but he doesn’t pull his hand away.
“Earlier, when I said I was an addict, I wasn’t only referring to sex.
In fact, I know that I am not a sex addict, because I am, in reality, a heroin addict.
I’m very familiar with the line between what is addiction and what is hedonism.
Sex is a coping mechanism for me, a replacement. So is marijuana.”
“So?” Blake replies with a shrug. “Dude, that’s fucking awesome.
I think you’re awesome. Smoke all the pot you want if it keeps you off that garbage.
Or hell, smoke it because you want to, I don’t give a shit.
Have you seen how much I drink? Be pretty hypocritical of me to judge your means of escapism. ”
Paxton laughs softly and tilts his head back against the wall, watching Blake fondly, so Blake flashes him his widest smile. “You are a good man, Blake Lawrence,” he says.
Blake snorts and tries to shake off the way his cheeks flame.
“Your standards are shitty,” he replies, dismissive.
In his hand, the roach is nearly kicked, so Blake holds it up.
“May I?” he asks. Pax nods, so Blake takes a drag that burns it all the way to the makeshift filter.
Once done, he scrapes the lit end against the side of the house to put it out.
As he exhales, the THC really hits his bloodstream, making him feel floaty and a little dissociated.
“Whoa,” he remarks approvingly, looking up into the tree cover and enjoying the way the light fractalizes and bounces off of the shiny leaves.
“It’s medical,” Paxton supplies. “Very high quality. Potent.”
“Bet it’s incredible to have sex on.”
At his side, Blake feels Paxton wrap lithe fingers around his bicep and press his face into his shoulder. “You have no idea,” he mutters, mostly into Blake’s shirt. “As much as I want you to find out — and Blake, I really do — I think we should go back to the party. I—”
He breaks off, pulls back a little, and Blake tears his eyes away from the pretty leafy dance going on above his head to try and focus on his friend. “What, Pax?” he asks gently, mesmerized all the more by the blue of Paxton’s eyes. So blue. So pretty.
“I just — I truly enjoyed what happened here. You, the way you—” He stops and shakes his head, taking a deep breath before grabbing Blake by the hand and dragging him back towards civilization.
“Alrighty, Pax,” Blake replies breezily as he follows behind, feeling like his feet are barely touching the ground as he walks. In his head, he giddily decides that Pax makes him feel like he’s walking on air.
As they round the corner of the building, Pax pulls a pack of gum from his pocket and pops a piece, offering Blake one too, which he accepts. As Blake chews, the cinnamon that he’s been smelling vaguely on Pax’s person suddenly makes sense.