Page 30 of In Frame
“Well,” Sam said, and touched the spot by Leo’s eye, lightly, “I did grow up in Vegas, or just outside—the suburbs—and I’m thirty-one, and I like really good dark chocolate but notmilk chocolate, and I’ll admit to having a Zak Starfighter action figure on my desk. Mostly for nostalgia.”
“Oh my God,” Leo said, deadpan and untroubled and languid against him, “I’m sleeping with a younger man.”
“You’re my age! Aren’t you?”
“Close. Thirty-three.” Leo yawned again. “I like dark chocolate as well. Though I also like sweetness. I’d watch cartoons with you if you wanted. I like most things really.”
“I know you do.”
“I likeyou. I shouldn’t, we both know why, but I do.”
“Well,” Sam said again, amused and aching, heart full to the point of breaking apart, “good. I like you, Leo Whyte. Kind of a lot.”
“You can take a picture of me in sweatpants in the morning,” Leo said sleepily. “At home. If you need something. I know…I know it’s your job. And you came home with me, not to any of the parties and events where there’d be proper celebrities…I can do that for you.”
Sam’s heart, which had been teetering at that fracture-point, shattered. He made himself breathe around the impact.
Leo Whyte at home, intimate and personal, an exclusive shot, would be worth a decent amount. Not as much as, say, Colby Kent doing the same; butnobodygot pictures of Colby. And magazines always wanted spots filled for those features: stars being just like us, eating food, wearing sweatpants…
He could sell it. And Leo had offered.
He said, “What the hell do you mean, proper celebrities?” and wound a lock of Leo’s hair around a finger and tugged, not hard. “You are.”
“Sorry,” Leo said, more awake, “were you scolding me, just now? Ouch. Or something.”
“Really ouch, or more something? And don’t fucking say that. About yourself. Or I’ll do it again.”
“Ah…more like you pinching my nipples. Or playing with my dick when I’ve just come and I’m over-sensitive. A lot, but in a sparkly way.” Leo sounded drowsy, surprised, and kind of into it. “I do like you being a bit rough with me, evidently. And you didn’t answer, about my offer.”
He should’ve known. Leo would never step out of the way of a hurtling boulder. Would try to face it head-on and keep it from hitting anyone else if possible. “I didn’t. I don’t know. I…should say yes.” Jameson and theDaily World Newswould love him. Other outlets might be willing to pay for non-exclusive copies.
“Then if you should, and I don’t mind, is there a problem?”
“I guess…not.” His chest felt hollow. He didn’t know why. He bought time by loosening his fingers and running them through Leo’s hair. “You’re worth more than you think.”
“This will help you, and it won’t hurt me.” Leo tightened an arm around him, Sam, in turn: underscoring the decision. “Sleep with me. For whatever time we’ve got.”
A few short hours. An illusion of another life. Suspended between an antique movie theater and the bills and mortgage payments back home. A flickering scene.
A snapshot.
“I’ll wake you up,” he said, “in the morning. With enough time for…whatever. We’ll see. Just rest. I’m here.”
“You are.” Leo nuzzled more into his chest. “Sam. And my soap. Lemon. ’S nice. Like sex with you. Nice.”
“I’m glad I can be your lemon?” He kneaded the back of Leo’s neck, let his hand cup Leo’s head. “Go to sleep, Leo.”
Leo let out a contented wordless mumble and did, almost instantly: as if secure with Sam’s hand on him and Sam’s body wrapped around his in bed.
Sam exhaled. Leo’s breathing whispered steady over hisskin; the shapes of a dresser, a lamp, their robes, collectively turned the bedroom into an oasis, enclosed in shades of night.
The morning would be the morning. He’d face it then.
They’dface it then. Because if he’d learned anything about Leo Whyte, that was the heart of it: Leo would never not want to do something, on behalf of a friend.
And they were friends. Sam didn’t know how, but that’d happened; in a limousine, in Leo’s kitchen, in Leo’s bed. The sex had been incredible and he hoped—God, he hoped—that Leo had loved every introduction and wouldn’t regret any of it. But even beyond that…
He’d made Leo laugh. Leo made him want to laugh. They’d made toast.
