Page 18 of Burn the Script

“So I’m not a weird curiosity for you?” I asked, instantly hating how timid my voice sounded.

“Never weird, but I am curious. There’s more to you than cute dimples and fancy clothes, and I want to uncover it all.”

Mama Mary, could his tone be any more sincere?

Staring into my glass, I pinched a cherry stem and stirred my drink. “I’m not good at dating. Opening up is hard for me.”

A heavy silence blanketed us as he studied my profile. It was impossible to brace for what came next with someone unpredictable like him, a fact he proved with his next question.

“Who hurt you, Miguel?”

I met his gaze and held firm. “That’s not a third-date conversation.”

Graham rubbed a finger over his lips, back and forth. He said a lot without speaking, and I could practically hear his internal debate. Should he poke at my barriers and risk ruining the night? Or should he drop the subject and salvage it?

“Fair enough,” he said. “Tell me more about your family.”

All the tension fled from my shoulders, and I scooted closer to him. For the next hour, the conversation flowed easily, same as the previous nights when we sat in that exact spot. His genuine smiles and honeyed laughter lured me into a comfortable state. With my elbow on the back of the loveseat and my cheek resting on a fist, I returned his smiles as we talked about our careers and swapped tales of our youth.

He was an adventurous kid who ran rampant through the Colorado mountains with only his imagination to accompany him. There may have also been mention of a loin cloth. I grew up surrounded by family and seldom ventured beyond the borders of my neighborhood. Despite our opposite upbringings, being around him felt natural, and I could almost forget we had recently met.

Slouched lower on the loveseat, he asked, “What’s something you’ve always wanted to do, but you’re too afraid?”

My answer came quickly. “Travel abroad. I’ve never been on a plane.”

“Get a passport, because I love to travel.”

Instead of telling him about my fear of flying, a factoid I’d save for later, I returned the question. “What about you? Is there anything Graham Kingston is afraid of, besides your career ending in devastating ruin?”

The lazy smile fell from his lips as he rested his head on the back of the loveseat. “Never fully living as me again.”

“When was the last time?”

“You mean the only time.” Graham crossed his arms over his chest while looking at the string lights above us. “Let’s see…I moved to LA after high school and dipped my toe in the club scene. For a mountain boy, it was new and exciting, also a little intimidating. A few months later, I signed with an agent who laid out my options. Conventional roles could take me where I wanted to go the fastest. The trade-off was playing it straight away from the camera too.”

I hated that for him, having his time of self-discovery cut short. My early years of college were fun before my ex came along and stole my ability to find enjoyment in anything at all.

Nudging Graham’s shoulder with mine, I said, “You’ve given up a lot for movies.”

“I’m getting a lot in return, so I can’t really complain about the downsides.”

I frowned. “You have every right to complain. No one should have to choose between being themselves and being marketable.”

“Maybe so, but I chose option two. For now, I try and make the best of it.” Regret tainted his smile, and my heartstrings were strumming for him.

From what I could tell, Graham was a sweet and humble man, another side of himself that he kept hidden. He played the role of a suave, outgoing heartthrob well, and people ate it up, but the real him was even better. Hollywood was missing out.

By the time I had sampled all the desserts and finished nursing my cocktail, I was on the verge of a sugar crash. My eyelids felt heavy, and I smothered a yawn with my sleeve. Graham called the night to a close and walked me to the front porch.

An iron gate loomed at the end of the long driveway. The first night I passed through it, I couldn’t have guessed what I’d find on the other side. A sanctuary was the last thing I had expected, nor did I anticipate feeling so at home there with him.

Standing in the dim alcove, a heady, magnetic force brought us face to face. His gaze fell to my lips, and his arm twitched. I wondered if he’d make a move, and I was even more shocked to discover how badly I wanted him to.

“Can I kiss you?” His hushed request skittered down my spine, leaving rare prickles of desire in its wake.

“No.”

With a sheepish grin, he lifted a shoulder. “I had to try.”