Chapter 10: Ask Me Properly

Adrian followed me into the corridor, but he didn’t try to stop me.

At the turn toward the stage, he said, “I’ll tell Grace everything.”

I looked back.

“Tell her the parts that affect my job. The rest is between us.”

He nodded.

Someone from wardrobe hurried over with a replacement tie. Adrian let her adjust it while I checked the route to the set.

We were both working.

For the next four hours, that was enough to keep us civil.

I stood where I needed to stand. He went where I directed him. When filming broke for lunch, he asked whether I wanted something from catering.

I told him I’d brought food.

He didn’t buy me anything anyway.

It was a small thing.

I noticed.

Grace met me after the afternoon session in an empty production office.

She had the building report, my contract, and an expression that suggested her day had become expensive.

The stalker had been real. A frequent visitor to another resident had followed Adrian through the garage twice and tried to photograph his apartment entrance. Management had identified the person, restricted access, and notified the appropriate people.

The immediate issue had been handled before Adrian asked me to stay.

I read the dates myself.

Then I put the report down.

“I should have received this.”

“You should have,” Grace said.

No explanation about how busy everyone had been. No attempt to make Adrian’s intentions sound more important than my work.

That helped.

We discussed what would change.

My employment decisions would go through her. Scheduled work would remain scheduled work. I could accept other assignments when there was no conflict, and if either of us ended the arrangement, the agreed notice and pay would apply.

I asked a friend to review the new version before signing.

Grace didn’t object.

As I stood to leave, she said, “Adrian asked me to make sure you wouldn’t lose income over a personal disagreement.”

I stopped with my hand on the chair.

“Good.”

“He also asked whether you’d prefer another principal.”

I looked at her.

“What did you tell him?”

“That you can answer questions about your own career.”

For the first time that day, I smiled.

“I’m beginning to like you.”

“I’m hoping it lasts.”

I didn’t go to Adrian’s apartment that evening.

I went to the gym.

An hour on the heavy bag was cheaper than breaking something I’d have to replace. Afterward, I helped a beginner correct his stance, and he managed three clean combinations without falling over his own feet.

He looked delighted.

I knew that feeling.

It stayed with me while I showered.

On my way out, the gym owner asked whether I’d consider covering a Saturday class.

“Paid?”

He gave me a tired look.

“No, Cole. We’ve recently moved to gratitude as a currency.”

“I don’t accept that.”

“Two hours. Beginner self-defense.”

I told him I’d check my schedule.

This time, I meant my own.

Adrian sent one message that night.

I’m sorry. You don’t need to answer. When you’re ready, I’ll tell you anything you want to know.

I read it twice.

Then I put the phone down.

Ten minutes later, I picked it up again.

I had gotten used to hearing from him. That was the annoying truth. His messages had become part of my day, somewhere between coffee and checking my bank balance.

I didn’t answer until morning.

No more surprises.

His reply arrived a minute later.

No more surprises.

I wanted to believe it.

Wanting was the part I no longer had trouble with.

For the next week, Adrian behaved.

That didn’t mean he stopped looking at me.

He looked when I reached above a doorway to check an obstructed camera. He looked when I rolled my sleeves up. He looked when I told a production assistant that a crowd route needed changing.

Once, I caught him watching my hands while I opened a stubborn bottle.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re distracting yourself.”

“I’m aware.”

I handed him the bottle.

“Try concentrating on the script.”

His smile was brief and private.

“I’ve been trying.”

He still wanted me.

He simply wasn’t arranging the room around that want anymore.

When I said I was going to the gym after work, he asked how it went the following morning. When I mentioned the Saturday class, he remembered the time but didn’t appear uninvited.

Afterward, he sent a message.

Did anyone survive?

All of them. I’m considering a refund.

He replied with a laughing voice note.

I listened to it in the parking lot.

Then I listened again because traffic was loud.

There was no traffic.

My mother called while we were waiting in the car outside a costume fitting.

Ben had stepped out to collect a delivery. Adrian sat beside me, answering emails.

I picked up.

“Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine. Did you read the details I sent you?”

“What details?”

“The omega from the fundraiser. He’s very nice. He asked whether you’d like coffee.”

I closed my eyes.

Of course he had.

Beside me, Adrian’s fingers stopped moving.

I kept my gaze on the windshield.

“Mom, I haven’t agreed to anything.”

“I know. That’s why I’m asking.”

For once, she had a point.

“I’ll call you later.”

I ended the conversation.

The car stayed quiet.

Adrian set his phone facedown on his knee.

I turned toward him.

“Well?”

He looked at me.

“Well what?”

“Aren’t you going to tell me why I shouldn’t go?”

His mouth tightened.

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Because?”

“Because I want to be the person you have coffee with.”

The answer was direct enough to leave me with nothing useful to attack.

He glanced at my phone.

Then away.

“But it’s your decision.”

I watched him for another moment.

He looked unhappy.

He let himself look unhappy without making it my job to fix.

That was new.

I put the phone in my pocket.

“The man’s already lost points. He called my mother to ask me out.”

A laugh escaped Adrian before he could stop it.

I pointed at him.

“Don’t get comfortable. You rented an imaginary cat a bedroom.”

“I deserved that.”

“You’re going to deserve it for a while.”

He nodded, smiling now.

“I’ll manage.”

Our first proper date happened at a neighborhood restaurant where nobody cared what Adrian did for a living until the waiter recognized him halfway through dessert.

By then, we’d already argued over parking, split a basket of bread, and discovered that he hated olives enough to transfer every one from his plate to mine.

“You chose the salad.”

“I thought I could negotiate with it.”

“You can’t flirt your way out of vegetables.”

“I’ve had better results with people.”

I gave him a look.

He lowered his fork.

“Sorry. Too soon.”

I stole the last piece of bread.

“Eat your lettuce.”

After dinner, we walked back to the car without touching for half a block.

Then Adrian’s hand brushed mine.

He looked at me.

I caught two of his fingers and pulled his hand into a proper grip.

“You’re very subtle for someone who plays confident men on television.”

“I’m trying not to assume.”

“Then ask.”

He stopped walking.

The change was so sudden that I turned toward him.

“Cole, would you go out with me again?”

I felt ridiculous standing beneath a streetlight with a famous actor looking nervous about dinner.

I felt pleased, too.

“Next time I pick the restaurant.”

He smiled.

“Deal.”

We ended up at his apartment for tea.

Actual tea, which I considered an impressive achievement given the way he watched me take off my jacket.

On the sofa, he finally showed me the remaining piece of his confession.

A draft post on his phone.

“I wrote it before the wedding,” he admitted.

I read the first line.

Then I looked at him.

“You wrote this before you’d even hired me?”

“I didn’t plan to publish it unless you wanted to be with me.”

I returned to the screen.

The post was embarrassingly sincere. It said he’d met someone who made him want to be braver, someone whose care had stayed with him for years.

It also used the phrase my person.

I groaned.

“You’re twenty-five. You can’t be allowed to sound this old.”

“I was having feelings.”

“Clearly. Several of them.”

He leaned closer to see the screen.

My thumb caught the edge as I moved the phone away.

A blue button changed.

The draft disappeared.

I stared at the screen.

“Where did it go?”

Adrian stopped breathing beside me.

Then his phone began vibrating.

Once.

Twice.

Continuously.

He looked at the display, then at me.

“Cole.”

I already knew I wasn’t going to enjoy the next sentence.

“You just posted it.”