Page 44 of In Frame
He ignored his imminent headache. He got back to taking care of the trash in question. Picking up the full bag.
His phone buzzed at that exact second, because of course it did. He stared at the trash bag in his hand, and considered just checking later. But it might be Jameson. Might be a job, an assignment, a demand. Something about Atlanta next week, maybe, stalking that superhero film as they started up production. More money coming in.
He set down the trash, made a lunge for the phone, and froze. Not his editor. Leo.
Leo Whyte, and a simple message:Can I call you and ask a question?
Sam’s heart did somersaults, while his body stood perfectly still. The text, a question itself, stared up at him with electronic expectance.
He answered carefully,Of course. Give me two minutes. He could’ve talked to Leo in the open; he did not want to share Leo. Not his choice to make.
His sisters grumbled to each other about calculus, over in the dining room. Thea fiddled with a pencil, spinning it over fingers. They’d absolutely be eavesdropping the second he picked up the phone. He’d take Leo to his bedroom.
Leo. Wanting to talk. In his life. Memories stampeded: ruffled blond hair, long limbs, laughter. So much laughter. Vivid and vibrant, full of brightness everywhere.
He ached with want, abruptly; he set a hand on the counter, steadying himself.
Leo had texted himnow. Which would be…one in the morning, London time. What could be so urgent? Was Leo simply awake, or was Leo in trouble? And that last thoughtlaunched a bullet into Sam’s already overworked heart: what if Leo, newly curious about sexuality, had gone out to experiment and found someone not kind to him?
No. No, that was assuming; more likely Leo’d just had a long day of press and couldn’t unwind. Sam could help. He could try.
He exhaled, standing in his kitchen with a trash bag at his feet; he ran outside and threw the trash at the bin, ran back in, washed his hands, discovered a strange newfound anticipation in each step. He’d get to talk to Leo again. In thirty seconds or so.
He did not run down the hall to his bedroom, because Thea and Diana would’ve noticed that. But he did walk fast.
Leo called right as he shut the door. “Two minutes precisely. I did count.”
“Wouldn’t expect anything less.” Sam flopped onto his bed, rolled over, ended up grinning at his ceiling. That voice. Expressive and English and color-drenched as summer. In his ear. “Talk to me. Ask your question.” His hamper, with the one overflowing jeans leg, beamed with encouragement. The timeworn wood of his dresser leaned in to pay attention.
“It might require some context.” Leo must’ve moved or sat down or shifted position; rustling of fabric suggested as much. “I realize I normally dive right in, but I suspect I should explain this one first. Were you busy? I like being an interruption as much as the next attention-seeking person, but I can wait if you were in the middle of something.”
“Nope,” Sam countered happily, poking a blanket with bare toes. Blue and plain—it’d been cheap—but stoically serviceable, it accepted the gesture with some surprise but also with welcome. “Just house stuff. You know. Chores.” He rethought his phrasing. Cringed. Leo probably didn’t know. Probably paid people to deal with that. “Weren’t you doing more press today? How’d that go?”
“I was a nineteenth-century teatime hostess for a bit, so it was marvelous. And I crashed one of Jason and Colby’s interviews and made Colby compliment my top hat, so I’m fairly proud of that.” Leo paused, clearly for dramatic effect, and finished, “I do look adorable in a top hat.”
“I can see it. Not black, though. Blue, or purple, or orange. Something with color.”
“Now you’ve given me an idea. Potentially three. You’ll see the high tea interview in a day or so, I think. Jillian’s idea. We all sat round and had historically accurate sips and sandwiches and discussion of characters with an expert scholar of the time period. I poured. Colby would’ve, but I did it first.”
Of course Leo had. A host, at heart. Wanting to dive in and do everything for other people. “Looking forward to it. Was that why the top hat? Costumes?”
“No, I just thought it’d be amusing. And I know someone—well, the internet version of knowing, she’s active in the fandom and helps run those charity scavenger hunts we do—who knows someone who, as it happens, makes hats. So I asked, and one appeared at the hotel. Perfect timing to pop into the next room and hold up a monocle and ask Jason how difficult finding shirts must be in the Colonies, with that whole taming-the-wild-frontier physique and no proper gentleman’s tailors anywhere. Made Colby laugh, so there’s that.”
Yes, noted Sam’s heart. You did. Because you know Colby Kent doesn’t like being surrounded by strangers and their questions all day long. “Sounds like a good day, then.”
“Oh, well. Mostly. There’re only so many ways to answer the same questions about historical accuracy, or retell the same funny stories from set, or explain how much research I did. Which I did, in fact, and I learned quite a lot about Napoleonic Wars naval etiquette and my job as Jason’s second-in-command, but no one really wants to hear me talk about cannondrills or the organization of the ship’s watch. We’d all want to toss me overboard within five minutes. Did your pictures go over well, speaking of things and going over? The ones of me, naturally, the ones I definitely care about.”
Another chest-stab. Also painful, though for different reasons. “I’d listen to you talk about cannon drills for at least fifteen minutes. Not sixteen, that’d be pushing it, but fifteen, sure.” And he listened to Leo’s breath of laughter with satisfaction. “And yeah, my editor loved them. Thanks again. Um…I didn’t send him all of them.”
“Really? Why not?”
“I like you smiling at tea. You don’t have any right now, do you?”
“As it happens,” Leo said after a second, “extremely rich and chocolatey hot cocoa. End of yet another long day. Sounded tasty. I like indulgence. Take your pick of reasons.” His voice landed pleased, in a startled sort of way. Stars and fireworks bashfully liking the idea of being valued, being kept safe.
“Are you in bed?”
“I am, though I’ll have to get up to get ready for bed properly. I liked the idea of calling you from my bed, though. Where’re you?”
