Page 30 of Thrown

If Robbie had been smoking, it would have been perfectly understandable. Toby himself had been known to nip out and have a ciggie in peace when things got tough. But as far as he knew, Robbie didn’t smoke.

“Oy!” he called out, pretending to be irritated instead of concerned. “What are you doing out here? They want you for the judging.”

Robbie jerked, like he had been deeply in his thoughts and coming out of them was a shocking reentry. His eyes grew even rounder when he saw it was Toby who had come to get him. Something like hope, or desperation, made Robbie flush.

That moment passed quickly, though.

“Alright, I’m coming,” he said with almost exaggerated irritation, getting up and heading toward Toby.

It was the first time Toby noticed how long Robbie’s legs were and how confidently he walked, even when his expression hinted that he was in turmoil. It was almost like Robbie’s body knew what it was doing, but his mind hadn’t gotten with the program yet.

“What are you doing out here?” Toby scolded him when Robbie reached the door. “Didn’t you see the signs that mark this place as out of bounds?”

They headed across the old factory floor to the active part of the building.

Robbie scowled at him. “Didn’tyou? Or were you too busy making eyes at the guy from the production company to notice?”

Someone could have knocked Toby over with a feather, that comment surprised him so much. Robbie was jealous. It made no sense whatsoever.

Except that it made all the sense in the world, once he thought about it. The way Robbie had been so much on edge since they reached the hotel, the silence on the journey the day before. Even the way that they had bickered and butted heads for the last few days as they’d worked together to come up with a plan for Hawthorne House were clues. The joust was a dead-giveaway. They’d kissed.

“Is that what you thought I was doing?” he demanded, his voice echoing in the cavernous space filled with rusted machinery. “You think I came all the way out to Staffordshire with you to flirt with production company reps?”

“The two of you seemed to be getting along awfully well,” Robbie said, flushed nearly crimson.

Toby huffed and shook his head, but he had absolutely no idea what to say. Whatcouldhe say to a shocker like that, and with Robbie about to step back onto a set to film something that could change his career and his life?

“We’re tabling this discussion until later,” he said as he pushed open the door that would take them back to the part of the factory where they were allowed to be.

“There is no discussion,” Robbie said with a tight shrug, standing taller when several confused production assistants spotted them and looked relieved. “Who you flirt with is no business of mine.”

Toby wanted to smack him upside the head, but the PAs rushed forward to whisk Robbie off to the set for judging, so he didn’t get a chance.

He followed, though, sticking quietly to the background and watching Robbie like a hawk as the final judging was filmed. At least Robbie was a good enough actor to pretend that nothing at all was wrong as he walked through the cups that had been created by the competitors, giving his feedback and ranking each one.

After the filming was done and a winner for the challenge chosen, the group had a nice Q and A session where the contestants had a chance to talk to Robbie and pick his brain about all things ceramic. Toby continued to watch, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He could only barely hear what was being said, but he could judge a lot more by body language.

For someone who had just guest starred on a popular television show, and whose artwork was recognized by someone as ordinary as Aaron, Robbie didn’t seem to have a lick of confidence in himself. He hunched as he spoke to the contestants. He seemed to be apologizing when they gushed about how much they enjoyed his social media accounts and the pictures he posted there. Most telling of all, when someone mentioned the Hawthorne Community Arts Center and its classes, Robbie blushed and lowered his head and seemed to dismiss the importance of the whole thing.

Toby frowned. Two weeks was more than enough for him to have figured out that the arts center and the classes that the Hawthorne family taught meant everything to Robbie. Why he was acting like there was something wrong with all that not only baffled Toby, it made him furious. What was so wrong with teaching kids who wouldn’t otherwise have been able to do art?

He didn’t get a chance to share that fury until after everything had wrapped for the day and a large group of them headed over to the pub across the street that the production people favored. They frequented the place so much that the owners had an entire first-floor room set aside for them on filming days.

“I’ve just been told that this place does amazing sausages with all local, farm-to-table ingredients,” Robbie said as the two of them waited at the bar for the drinks they’d just ordered. “We should get some of those for everyone.”

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Toby challenged him. It was his first moment alone with Robbie since finding him on the wall.

Robbie balked and said, “I’m being nice to everyone who has been so kind to us. Maybe you’re not familiar with the concept.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Toby said, inching close to him as someone stepped up to the bar behind him.

Robbie’s expression darkened. “God only knows what you’re talking about.”

He tried to turn away, but Toby stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“I’m talking about the sneaking way for an hour by yourself,” he said. “I’m talking about the not saying a word to me for most of the trip yesterday. I’m talking about this ugly, mopey thing you’ve got going on. What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Now you think I’m ugly?” Robbie blurted, despite the people around them who looked uncomfortable as they vented their emotions. “In addition to thinking I’m squandering my potential?”

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