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“Performing in plays at school. I sucked at first, obviously. Couldn’t muster the breath to project, stumbled on my lines. The more serious drama kids found me incredibly frustrating. But this one teacher, Mr. Banks, gave me a bunch of reading to take home. Told me to practice by myself, when nobody was around, so I wouldn’t feel self-conscious. Monologues from Shakespeare and Chekhov and Williams. And poetry! Something about the way stanzas were ordered, letting you know exactly when to breathe. He said I had to get to grips with the language, live in it, that way I wouldn’t be afraid of it. God, I loved it. I’d recite speeches and sonnets over and over and over, tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow, and even when I didn’t fully understand every single word, I felt like I knew exactly what these people were saying. Like they were talking through me.”
“And that helped? With your stammer?”
“My parents finally shelled out for a speech therapist my senior year of high school. But the confidence to speak? That came from Mr. Banks.”
“Well.” Will’s fingers ceased their foxtrot, and he laid his palm on Patrick’s chest, nestling into the crook of his arm. “Here’s to Mr. Banks.”
* * *
* * *
•••••••••
Two nights before the shoot was due to wrap, Corey, Hector, and Audra all went for a very public dinner at a restaurant on the twenty-fourth floor of a building that was immensely popular among visitors to the city. At the same time Patrick, decked out in a hoodie and baseball cap, used Will’s Uber account and took a car to game night at Margo’s house.
“I think you’re the killer,” Will said, looking Dylan square in the eye.
“Nope,” Dylan said, barely even moving their face. I should teach them poker, Will thought. We’d make a fortune.
“OK, then I am officially clueless,” he said. “If it’s not Dylan, I don’t know who it is.”
“That figures,” scoffed Patrick.
“Excuse you?”
“Come on, Will. I mean this in the nicest way, but…you’re not great at reading people.” Patrick reached out and twirled one of Will’s curls around his index finger. “It took you how long to figure out that I liked you?”
“In fairness, it’s not every day that a movie star takes a liking to you. And you could have just asked me out,” Will said.
“I did!”
“Sending me on a treasure hunt for a mythical comic book and then inviting yourself along is not a date, Patrick. And besides, I thought you were dating Audra.”
“Audra? Are you kidding me?”
“The way you were with her!” Will protested. “All those photos of you two cozying up behind the scenes on her Instagram Stories.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” said Patrick. “But you’re starting to sound like a stalker. Maybe you are creepy after all.”
“I’ve figured out what it is,” April announced. “You’ve got resting boyfriend face.”
“I’ve got what?”
“Resting boyfriend face!” she continued triumphantly. “Like, when everyone said you were going out with Emma Roberts because you looked so good on the red carpet together. Or that photo at a pool party with a supermodel on your shoulders. I sometimes click on Mail Online links. I know, I’m part of the problem.”
Still met with a roomful of blank looks, April rolled her eyes and steered Margo by the elbow toward where Patrick was seated. “Here,” she said. “Perch on the arm of the chair like that. OK…and…say cheese!” She took out her phone and took a quick picture, then turned the screen around to show everybody. “See?”
The result was uncanny. Margo, all five feet ten of her, looked positively dainty next to Patrick’s strapping frame, and the pair of them were smiling serenely, as if they had just announced their engagement.
“Bloody hell,” said Margo. “I might have to send this to Owen. His head will explode.”
“That’s just a fluke,” Will protested.
“Fine.” April shrugged and stooped down right next to Patrick so that the side of her face was squashed against his, and snapped a rapid selfie. When she offered up the phone as evidence once again, the photo looked like it had been taken in the middle of a particularly fantastic date, April’s round cheeks dimpled gleefully against Patrick’s as if they were sharing a private joke.
“Oh, this is fun,” said Jordan. “Do me next! Move!” He practically shoved April out of the way, plonking himself down next to Patrick and arranging his narrow legs just so. Patrick, for his part, merely smiled and blinked placidly as yet another photo was taken.
“Oh my god.” Jordan’s eyes lit up as he saw the picture. He thrust it in Will’s face. “This is beyond. Can’t you just imagine the two of us adopting an inbred little Pomeranian together?”
