A niceglass of scotch.
Yeah, that doesn’t sound half bad.
The party at Harper’s hotel room is loud, a good many of the cast and crew getting hammered, despite the warning we received. The scotch in my hand is nearly gone, but the woman hanging off my arm makes it difficult to finish the last dregs.
“What’s it like?” she asks, her smile too big. “Being famous, I mean.”
Lonely, I want to tell her. Even though it’s not entirely the truth. I have plenty of people in my life who keep the loneliness at bay.
But when you’re surrounded by people who don’t see you? Well, it’s more than a little isolating.
My eyes seek out Ezra in the crowd, but I can’t find him. He disappeared not long ago.
“It’s a dream come true,” I tell the woman. “Excuse me.”
“But—”
I politely remove her hand from my arm and walk off, my gaze swinging around. Harper gives me a grin from atop the lap of one of the crew members she’s taken a liking to. She holds her drink up in a silent cheers, and I give her a nod before moving on.
I finish my scotch as I walk toward the wet bar stationed in the adjoining room. I get stopped along the way, another fan Idon’t recognize asking me questions and holding on to me. It takes a good few minutes to extract myself.
I’ve just reached the bar and am waiting on my second scotch when a new arm loops through my own. This time, it’s Ezra. He gives me a beaming smile.
“What are you doing?” I ask in some amusement.
“Figured you might be tired of batting women off with a stick. I’ll be your shield.”
I snort at his cheekiness, accepting my scotch from the person manning the bar. “You think that’ll stop them? Being married never did.”
Ezra shrugs. “Well, sure. Because they’ll be hitting on me instead.”
“You’re so full of it,” I inform my friend.
His smile widens, and he winks. Ezra leads me away from the bar, conversation buzzing around us. He finds a door to the balcony, and for a brief moment in time, the two of us escape. It won’t last forever, but I breathe in the cool evening air, the lights of the city stretched out in front of us.
Ezra lets me go to lean against the railing, picking up the thread of our conversation. “You’re not married anymore.”
“No,” I say, taking a small sip of my drink.
He turns toward me, quiet in a way he only ever is around me. He doesn’t have to fill the void with chatter. He’s thinking, I can tell.
Finally, he opens his mouth. “Move in with me.”
I nearly drop my drink off the balcony. “Ez. What?”
“Come on, Grayson. You’re newly divorced. We both know I’m never getting married. For fuck’s sake, we’re well on our way to fifty goddamn years old. I’m never as happy as when I’m with you, so just…let’s be together. What do wehave to lose?”
My pulse is sprinting, but Ezra looks dead serious. “Everything,” I answer, as obvious as it is. “No one will understand.”
“Who gives a shit?”
I scrub a hand over my face, huffing out a breath. “Ezra…you’re not even out.”
“And you’re not even queer.”
“What’s it going to look like to the outside world?” I go on. “Two high-profile celebrities living together? Twomen. Do you really want to do that to your career?”
“Fuck my career.” The words cause my mouth to snap shut. Ezralovesacting. “If you don’t care about the optics, then neither do I. Goddamn it, Gray, if I can’t live my life the way I want to, then what is it all even for?”
