Page 8 of His Leading Man

“Tomorrow I’m making sure we get a break for craft services. It won’t be fancy on a shoestring budget, but it’s better than being hungry.”

“Is that why you got kind of cranky around three?” he asked unthinkingly.

Oops. Maybe he should play nice with his insanely rich, talented, handsome costar.

Fortunately Drew laughed it off. Too gregarious to let an offhand comment get to him, clearly. “Like you can talk.”

“I was in character!” Steve protested, which was only partially a lie.

“Uh-huh.” Drew dropped his washcloth in the laundry bag beside the vanity. “You did look like you might try to eatmeat one point.”

Steve paused with his arm raised to throw his cloth in the bin.Really?He looked over and met eyes with Drew, whose expression mirrored Steve’s surprise. They held eye contact for a second before they both snickered.

“I’m maybe a little still in character,” Drew apologized with a slight groan. “And a lot still hungry. You want to check out if there’s any leftovers in craft services? Or we could see about takeout. Maybe I can help with script ideas.”

“Yes to the food.” Steve stood and stretched his shoulders. “No to the shoptalk. I need some distance before I can write, if that makes sense.”

Drew nodded. “Sure. But the offer stands.”

They were mostly quiet on the walk to the craft station, where they managed to scrounge up enough food that Steve could put off shopping. Actually if this was indicative of his schedule for the next few weeks, he was either going to need to hire a service to get groceries for him or just eat on set. “Does this get easier?”

Drew had a bite of pulled pork in his mouth, but he made a so-so gesture. After he’d swallowed, he offered, “I’m kind of the wrong person to ask. I grew up with it. Though back then child labor laws applied to me, so it wasn’t as intense. But the first week’s always an adjustment. It gets better after that.”

Steve nodded thoughtfully as he chewed. “I never wanted to be an actor, you know.”

“So I gathered.” Drew picked up a pickle. “But you did theater in college, or so Hilary says.”

“I was in a couple productions. I liked the behind-the-scenes aspects better, though. Did my minor in creative writing because I was good with scripts. The acting was just because I needed someone to be in them when they were done.”

“Not me.” Drew crunched half the pickle in one fell swoop. “I’ve wanted to be an actor for as long as I can remember. It wasn’t easy, though. When I first moved out to LA, my dad and my sisters were still living in Syracuse, and it was just my mom and me out here. They tried not to let on what a strain it was for the family, but….”

“You’re really lucky to have their support.” Steve wasn’t sure what else to say. He’d rubbed elbows with plenty of actors in his life, and the shine had mostly worn off. But that didn’t mean he’d expected a full-on heart-to-heart over lukewarm food. The attention made him feel like he belonged on this side of the camera, at least temporarily.

Nodding in agreement, Drew shoveled in another bite. “I was a pill as a teenager, though. And when I hit the party phase at twenty-one, Mom decided enough was enough and went back to New York.”

“Rough.” Twenty-one was longer gone for Steve than for Drew—ten years rather than seven—but he remembered it. Well, parts of it. He was thankful he’d only had college to deal with and not a career to destroy.

“Nah.” He shrugged. “I’m lucky and I know it. Charmed life.”

“If you say so.” Steve picked up his own pickle. It looked a little limper than he liked, but beggars and choosers and all that. He bit it. The flavor was good, even if it could have been crunchier. “Can I ask you something?”

Drew gestured for him to go ahead.

“Why this script? I mean, it’s not even done. I have no idea how any of this came together. Don’t get me wrong, it’s like a dream, I just… I have to wonder why, of all the summer projects you could’ve picked up, you chose one that pays peanuts and has zero publicity.”

“Wow. You don’t pull punches, huh?” Drew finished his sandwich and wiped his hands on a napkin before continuing. “I’ve played a lot of roles. Heroes, villains, antiheroes, romantic leads, sidekicks, blah blah blah. Most of those roles were in big- or at least medium-budget productions. I didn’t get to be bi or even gay in any of them.” He cracked open his water bottle and took a swig.

Steve nodded and poked at his coleslaw with a plastic fork so he wouldn’t watch Drew’s throat work. He hadn’t been fishing for compliments, but it would’ve been nice if—

“And it wasn’t like I hadn’t gone out looking for a gay or bi role, but nothing Hilary pitched to me ever fit. I wasn’t going to take a role where I was only gay to get homophobic laughs, or one where it felt like an afterthought.”

Okay, so he’d asked a more complicated question than he intended. Or the answer was complicated, at least. “Makes sense.”

“No, don’t humor me, I’m trying to reason it out to myself too.” Drew pushed his plate aside, and Steve looked him in the eye. “Until I read this script, I couldn’t put my finger on why I’d turned those other roles down. But in this script, the characters are funny, and they’re gay, but they’re not the—God, forgive the pun—their sexuality is not the butt of the joke. It informs who they are, but it’s not the base of the plot. It would work just as well—differently, but just as well—if they were straight, but they’re not. That’s why I like it.”

He was so straightforward about it, so earnest, Steve couldn’t doubt his sincerity. Which meant he’d impressed one of the more influential celebrities in Hollywood. He’d believed he could do it, but it was still different from getting praise from his mom. “Thanks. I hope the movie does well, whatever that means for an indie flick. I mean, a lot of people will see it just because you’re in it, so we’ve got that going for us.”

“I’m glad I don’t have to deal with any of those details,” Drew laughed. “Organizing theaters and premieres and Netflix releases and all that. Much easier to show up and take my shirt off as directed.”

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