Page 14 of The Actor and His Secret

He isn’t wrong. The river certainly stinks - of fish and shit. But the quiet makes it all better. As does the way the lights from the buildings on the other side of the river twinkle as they reflect across the dark waters. In the distance we can hear horns and cars, the chatter of people as they experience London after dark. But here, there’s only us and the water.

I’ve always loved the water. Growing up in a small town back in Greece, I would wake and hear the lapping of ocean waves, and fall asleep to the sound too. When life got dark, there was always the water, offering me a lullaby.

My Mama once told me that the sound of the waves against the shore was her whispering stories to me, no matter where she was in the world. That stayed with me when she died.

Sitting here, on wet stone steps, with a stranger at my side and the water singing in front of us, I don’t care about the smell. Nothing has the power to ruin this moment. It’s by far the most peaceful I’ve felt in years.

‘How did you find this place?’ I ask, peering at him out the corner of my eye. ‘Seems like a hidden gem that you can only find when you really need a place to hide from the world.’

The stranger smiles at me, a corner-lip grin that warms me from the inside out. ‘It’s near the offices I work at. I found it the day I got my job offer. There was so much going on in my mind, a list of endless possibilities of how my life was about to change. I got lost walking out the offices and found myself here. It seemed that this spot found me, to be honest. Since then, whenever I’ve felt the need for some peace, I come here. It’s my special place.’

‘Well thank you - ’ It was my turn to stumble on the lack of his name, ‘ - for sharing your special place with me.’

He shrugs. ‘You’re welcome, I guess.’

I look at him, really look at him, as he stares longingly over the water. He takes a deep breath in, as though he can absorb the peace of his hidden gem. I see something in him that I share. A need for escape, a need for quiet and contemplation.

‘It would be nice if the night stretched on forever,’ I say, breaking the sudden quiet between us. ‘I like this, existing in a place where the only thing I worry about is the name of the man I’m sitting beside.’

It’s been almost three hours since we left the premiere, and he’s still a mystery to me. I thought I could last the night without caring to work him out, but alas I find myself craving answers.

But answers would lead to the truth, and I don’t think I’m ready for that to ruin the moment. Not yet. And the fact that he hadn’t told me his name either only proves to me that he feels the same.

‘I have an idea,’ I say, sitting up, almost knocking over the Styrofoam tub of mushy peas I’ve left untouched.

‘Should I be worried?’ he replies.

‘Maybe.’ I wink. ‘But tonight we both wanted to escape from something, right?’

Right…’

‘Have you ever watched Cinderella?’ I ask.

‘I’m gay,’ he replies with a laugh. ‘I could recite any Disney film word-for-word. Of course I know Cinderella, although I’m more of a Little Mermaid kinda man.’

To be honest, I haven’t even contemplated his sexuality, the same way I never really think of mine. I mean, I guess I’ve never allowed myself to really think about my own sexuality before.

‘Well,’ I say, quickly diverting the topic before I could say something that crosses the line. ‘We’re both like Cinderella, fleeing the ball and leaving lives behind us. Our crystal slipper is currently back at that premiere, and with it our pasts. We exist only in this moment. So, instead of swapping names and stories, why don’t we make them up for each other?’

My perfect stranger ponders this for a moment, taking a swig of beer as he contemplates. ‘Ok. You start. Give me a name.’

It was easy. ‘Honey.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Honey. Because you smell like it. You’re sweet and sticky - sticky, I mean, because you’ve stuck yourself to me with ease. Hold on, that came out wrong. I mean it in a good way, of course. I like honey and I just think you’re - ’

Honey silences me with a hand on my knee. The moment he touches me my entire body erupts in shivers. Even with the material between his hand and my skin, I still feel as though he’s imprinting himself on me.

‘Okay, no need to dig your hole any deeper.’ He smirks. ‘Honey, I like it.’

I smile, running a hand through my hair nervously and pushing the strands off my face. ‘And what are you going to call me?’

‘Adonis,’ Honey says with confidence.

I laugh. Really laugh. The type that builds in a person’s stomach and is almost forced out, breathless and rushed. ‘I suppose I can cope with that. How did you work out I was Greek?’

‘I didn’t,’ Honey replies. ‘It was more from the way you look.’

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