CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

S ebastian

This is definitely a bad idea.

Luke’s townhouse looms in front of me. It’s only a short walk from where the filming is taking place, and though the girls are confined to the house apart from when they do dates around Boston, the crew members are not limited in their location. I hope none of them spot me. Spotting me gazing up at Luke’s townhouse in a lovelorn manner befitting of actors in Shakespearean tragedies.

Not that I’m lovelorn, of course.

I mean, I’m not in love.

I’m just...lorn. Like-lorn. Good-acquaintance-lorn.

Still, it would probably look strange if I spend too long examine the facade of the house, as pleasant as it is, as most Back Bay nineteenth-century townhouses are.

It’s that thought that compels me to hurry forward and not to simply gaze cow-eyed at Luke’s townhouse.

This is fine. I’m going to film Luke discussing his romantic options, then I’m going to hook up with someone. Never mind that the person I’m hooking up with is Luke. Never mind that I’m not a hookup person at the best of times, and my story might make Ella, Mateo, and Aisha all raise their eyebrows.

I’m in a new city. It’s possible I would use an app. I mean, that is something people do. And I’m a person. So everything totally makes sense.

I ring the doorbell, and I’m soon buzzed inside.

I hurry up the flights of steps, until I see Luke at the door.

God, the man is gorgeous. His eyes soften when they land on me, but then his gaze darts to his right, and his demeanor grows stiffer, not unlike when Ella feeds him words to say during the Mr. Right show, and he becomes a cross between a weather forecaster and a child presenting a book report on a book he didn’t read.

Troy must be home.

“Ah, Sebastian. It is nice to see you. I was sorry to hear your cameras broke down and our conversation was lost. Please come inside.”

“Hello Luke,” I say.

“Hi Sebastian!” Troy pokes his head at me. “Sorry to hear about your camera break down incident.”

“It’s okay,” I say. “These things happen.”

“You should tell the studio to buy you better equipment.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

I step inside the apartment. Luke steps away from me at a speed that befits his athletic persona but isn’t the most flattering. I find myself face to face with Troy instead who looks vaguely apologetic.

“So, this is our place,” Troy says. “Where do you want to film?”

“Um...”

“I’ll give you a tour,” Troy says brightly.

“Cool.” I follow Troy, Luke behind.

“So, this is where Luke lives. Maybe you want to film it?”

Luke stiffens, but something in my gaze must make him calm.

Troy’s eyes move from Luke to me. “You’re a great communicator, Sebastian. It’s like you can communicate without talking.”

“Oh.” I scratch my head. “Well, that comes in handy when filming.”

“I bet it does.”

“Sebastian is super involved,” Luke says.

“Clearly. I mean, this is Saturday night at nine pm.”

Luke’s eyes round.

“The days are long in TV,” I say.

“Long in hockey too.” Troy fist bumps me.

Luke does not fist bump me. Instead, he reclines against the wall, as if wary of being too close to me. Troy scrunches his lips together.

“Our Luke is pretty shy,” Troy says in an apologetic tone.

“I’m not shy,” Luke says.

“It’s hard to drag him to parties,” Troy says.

‘That’s because parties are boring.” Luke glowers.

This is a sulky Luke I’m not entirely accustomed to.

“Well, not compared to watching...” Luke steps on Troy’s foot, and Troy halts. “Maybe I should go.”

“Are you going out?” Luke says, his voice eager.

“Nah, not tonight. Resting up for our hockey game tomorrow afternoon.” He glances at me. “Weekend hockey games, you know.”

“Um, right.” I try to nod knowledgeably.

“I’ll be in my room.”

He pads away.

“Shit,” Luke whispers, once Troy is probably out of hearing distance. “I’m sorry. He normally goes out at night.”

“It’s okay,” I whisper back. “Besides, I do need to film you after your whole speech in front of Ella today.”

“Right. Sure. This way.” Luke heads down the hallway, then opens the door to the room beside the room Troy entered.

I enter and glance at the wall that separates the two rooms.

“This is my room,” Luke says in that strange formal voice of his, and I make a note to tell Ella we need to have an audition process be part of the application process for Mr. Right. We need to not assume that future Mr. Rights will be able to act natural.

Obviously, Luke is awesome. But that’s because he’s Luke. Other Mr. Rights will not be Luke.

“Cool.” I start to set up my cameras.

I turn around, and in the next moment, Luke pulls me against him. My bottom is pressed against his hard, throbbing cock.

“Ugh...” I murmur, and Luke places a hand in front of my mouth which is actually super hot even though it’s totally unexpected. He flips me around, and we are kissing. Madly. Desperately. Passionately.

He slams me against the wall, then pulls his lips from me. “Oops, you dropped my bag.”

He elbows me.

“I’ll pick it up,” I say hastily, even though the bag absolutely did not drop and I’m absolutely not going to be picking up anything.

He gives a relieved nod, before he kisses me again. Heat pulses through me, pulses through him. He pins me to the wall, and my universe consists of a large muscular body pressing against me.

I want to kiss him forever.

But I have to listen to him explain the wonders of the women on the dating show I host, so instead I halt my kiss.

“Ah, looks like you are almost finished setting up the cameras,” Luke says loudly to the wall.

I grin. The man is adorable. Not a good actor. But adorable. Definitely adorable.

“Yes, just about,” I say equally loudly, also to the wall.

Luke relaxes, while I quickly set up the cameras and tripods and lighting.

I’m glad the editors at Seeking Mr. Right are so excellent, because the places I’ve recorded Luke have rarely achieved studio level quality.

“How are you feeling about your choice of romantic partners?” I ask Luke.

“It’s difficult.”

I scrunch my lips, willing him to go on. Finally he talks about the wonders of both women, and I smile at him encouragingly, and pretend my heart is not cracking with every compliment he gives them.

He’s saying these things so we can have a night together.

He likes me.

But I know how much Falcon Productions encourages the season’s Mr. Right to propose, and I know in a week I might be watching Luke declare his heart to someone.

After Luke goes into more detail than necessary about the hockey injuries he’s had, the hockey injuries his friends have had, the hockey injuries people he knows have had, the hockey injuries of people he doesn’t know but has read about have had, he finishes.

“I guess I will still need to think about it,” he says.

“I guess so,” I say faintly, then turn the video off and send it to Ella.

Maybe she can cut it into something intriguing. No doubt she can. Ella is amazing.

“Well...” Luke gestures to the bed. “I guess you will have to pack up now. It is unfortunate it takes so long to pack up your things. Lots of zippers and compartments and...buttons.”

He speaks in a booming voice to the wall again, and I try not to imagine Troy’s expression.

“That’s right,” I say instead. “It takes a long time.”

Luke pulls me against him, and we are once again kissing. I try not to act sad. Kissing is great. But at any moment it’s going to end and I’m not ready to return to my actual bed, away from Luke, away from everything I’ve grown to like. In an acquaintance way. Nothing more. Not me. No way.

I still in his arms, and he senses at once.

“What’s wrong?” He mouths.

I give him a smile and head for the door. He swoops me into his arms and drops me onto the bed. Then he leans down and whispers, “I have a plan.”

I blink up at him.

Luke is grinning like a madman as he pulls the cover over me, then he stomps loudly and exits the room. He hollers. “Bye Sebastian!”

I hear murmurings in the hallway.

“Sebastian leave already?”

“Oh yeah, he already left,” Luke assures Troy.

“Cool.”

“Want to watch TV?”

“I have a headache,” Luke says, and it’s clear that even when speaking with his best friend and roommate, he’s not any more relaxed than on the show.

Then Luke enters the room. He grins. His chest puffs out.

I do my best to not giggle out loud.

He locks the door, then jumps on the bed, the springs wobbling. I bounce up, and he clutches me against his chest.

“That was great subterfuge,” I whisper.

“All those spy movies came in handy.”

I nod, wondering what the state of his acting would be like if he’d never seen any spy movies. Warmth fills my body. We’re together. I clutch hold of him, gazing into his eyes, because we don’t have a few minutes, we have all night.