Page 22 of The Star in Room 7

Zach stares at me.

“Can’t imagine it?”

“No. You’re so…” He gestures at me. “Strong.”

“There’s strength in vulnerability, Zach. In being able to trust someone to take care of you. Yesterday, you asked me if I’d ever been scared.”

Zach stays silent.

“The truth is, from the moment Kurt’s dad floored me, to the moment I let myself truly submit to another man, I was scared. Letting myself be vulnerable, after a few years of proving I could be a tough guy, was cathartic.” I smile at the memory. “But I found more joy in being a Dominant than a submissive. I switched between the two for a while, but ultimately realized I was a Daddy.”

“How?”

“I like caring for other men. I like the tenderness that comes with a Daddy/boy relationship. That’s what the submissive tends to be referred to in that dynamic. A boy or a girl. It’s not about age.” I have no idea how much Zach knows about kink in general. I’d assume a little bit, but something tells me he’s never been involved in the scene.

“You just like caring for boys?” he asks tentatively.

“Are you asking if I’m bi?”

He stares straight ahead. “I guess I am.”

“Just boys.”

He glances at me through the corner of his eye. “And it doesn’t have to be sexual?”

“No. It can be, and often is, but it doesn’t have to be. Especially when it’s someone from Halo House.”

He slows, eventually stopping and leaning onto his knees, breathing hard. We’ve reached the crest of a hill. The sun is blazing, but the trees shade us, and we have an amazing view over the valley. I stand beside him, stretching to keep my muscles warm so they don’t cramp up. After a moment, he does the same, quietly copying my actions.

“I’ve never explored kink,” he says after a while. “I was always too focused on my career. On attending audition after audition. On getting experience everywhere I could. In adverts, blink, and you’ll miss it. TV parts, walk-ons and so on. Early starts meant I stayed home while my friends went out clubbing. I always thought it was worth it.”

“And now?” I ask gently.

He blinks fiercely. “Now I’m not sure I want this life anymore.”

I want to hold him, like I did yesterday, but I don’t move closer to him. Right now, he needs the space to process his thoughts and talk. If he’s ready to.

“It’s not what I was expecting at all. Sure, it was fun having people ask for my autograph, selfies, and things at first, but I never thought… I never imagined…” He shakes his head. “I guess I had an idolized view of what it is to be famous. And the reality isn’t nearly as glamorous. It’s lonely, and scary, and—” His voice breaks. He hunches his shoulders and hugs himself.

I check we’re completely alone, and then close the distance between us and pull him into my arms. He relaxes a lot faster than he did yesterday, resting his cheek on my shoulder, and unfolding his arms to cling to my T-shirt. He doesn’t cry, but there’s so much tension in his body it makes my heart ache. I rub calming circles over his back.

“You’re not alone,” I tell him. “I’m here, and I’m sure you’ll make friends at Halo House.” If he lets himself.

“I might have been adopted,” he whispers.

“Oh?”

“By Puck. At least, they loaned me one of their teddy bears.”

“Puck’s a great kid.”

He nods against my shoulder. “I’m too scared to go back to my apartment,” he admits. “And I can’t go home, either. My parents have given me so much support over the years. Paying for the drama club, ferrying me to and from it. Attending every performance, taking me to auditions, and jobs. Helping me keep up with my schoolwork. Paying for my flight here. They even paid my rent for the first three months. If I give up and go home now, I’ll be letting them down.”

“I don’t think that’s true.” I can’t know that for sure, but parents who are that supportive are unlikely to think badly of him, especially when trauma is fueling his doubt. “Whatever your reasons are for going home, they’d be happy you were able to go to them.”

He pulls away and stares out at the view. “I can’t let them down. I can’t.” He clenches and unclenches his fists. “Why? Why am I feeling this way? Why can’t I shrug it off and move on?”

“An encounter with a stalker isn’t something you just get over.”