Chapter 5

FIVE

Casper was left standingin the dark, embarrassed and raw. He listened until he couldn’t hear Sawyer’s footsteps anymore, then he shoved a hand through his hair and let out a shaky breath.

“Idiot!” he hissed to himself, then pushed himself forward, shaking his head.

What kind of idiot tried to thrust himself on a gorgeous celebrity who wasn’t interested and who clearly had some sort of emotional baggage he was dealing with? And less than twenty-four hours after meeting him. Well, meeting him again. But one supper where their conversation had been short didn’t count.

Casper clenched his jaw as he walked back down to the kitchen to see if the small mess they’d made while fixing their midnight snack had been put away—it had been—then dragged himself up to his room and back to bed. Sawyer was carrying something around with him. No matter how ham-fisted Casper had been with his approach, the fact was that grown men in the peak of mental health did not hide behind antique radios in dark parlors in the middle of the night.

Whatever was eating at Sawyer, it had to be connected to his fear of being publicly outed. Casper tossed from one side to the other in bed as he failed to fall asleep yet again, certain that’s what it was. Sawyer wasn’t the first celebrity to worry about being outed. Casper could hardly blame Sawyer, or any man, for being nervous about what the world of celebrity gossip would say about any sort of coming out. The sort of scrutiny that came with celebrity gave Casper hives just thinking about it.

He rolled to his back, kicking at the sheets tangled around his feet and thrashing his head against his pillow, vainly looking for a comfortable position. There was something more with Sawyer, though. It was reasonable for him to be wary of the press and the world making his sexuality an issue, but in this day and age, gay celebrities weren’t a big deal. The days where coming out was a huge deal that rocked the world were over.

Unless they weren’t over for Sawyer. Casper shifted to face the window on the far side of his bed and blinked out at the darkness. Maybe Sawyer’s family was old fashioned and unsupportive? Maybe he’d been abused in the past and was traumatized? That might possibly explain the whole running away from Harry thing.

God, Casper hoped that wasn’t the case. It hurt his soul to think that Sawyer might have been abused.

Whatever it was, Casper felt awful for pushing things when he shouldn’t have. He was shocked he’d made the first move to begin with. It might have been the first time he’d ever made the first move. Most of the time, he didn’t notice a man was interested in him until the man in question had him pushed up against a wall with his tongue down his throat.

Which might be the reason why he’d thought Sawyer wouldn’t mind if he did the same.

Casper eventually fell asleep with images of that intimate moment between him and Sawyer flashing through his head, but in different variations. He wasn’t sure he liked the one where he didn’t even try for a kiss. That variation of the moment seemed like some sort of a cop-out.

Casper awokewith a start some time later, disoriented and dragging. The sun shone brightly through his window. A little too brightly. When he twisted to look at the clock on the bedside table, it was past nine.

“Shit,” he gasped, struggling to throw off the bedcovers and to get a move on.

Everything seemed to go wrong from there. He slammed his toe into the bureau on his way to the en suite bathroom that was definitely not original to the house, he accidentally stepped into the shower when it was still ice cold, and he put on mismatched socks twice before getting a pair that matched.

By the time he made it downstairs, breakfast was already being cleared away, and he just barely managed to grab a cup of tea and a piece of toast. Worse than that, filming had started without him. That wouldn’t have mattered much, since his input as historian had mostly been needed at the beginning of filming, but it also meant Sawyer was already hard at work, embodying Percy Montague, and Casper didn’t have a chance to apologize to him.

All he could do was quietly slip into one of the chairs well behind the cameras, at the edge of the conservatory, where they were shooting that morning, and watch. They were between shots when he was allowed into the room, but even still, Sawyer was busy having his make-up retouched as he discussed something about the scene seriously with his co-star, Max Deverell, who was playing Clarence Bond, and Rory.

Casper watched him intently, wallowing in his embarrassment as a means of self-punishment for taking advantage the night before. It was hard to tell if Sawyer looked as exhausted as Casper felt with his camera-ready make-up, but Casper thought he noticed a slight slump to Sawyer’s shoulders and a touch of listlessness in the way Sawyer nodded as Rory directed him.

Or maybe that was just wishful thinking on his part. It was entirely possible that Sawyer didn’t care about him at all and the night before, all of it, had been a fluke.

“You interested in Sawyer?”

Casper jolted out of his observations and turned to Glen, who had taken a seat in the chair next to him. Glen was in full hair and make-up, but evidently wasn’t needed for the part of the scene that was being filmed just then.

“What makes you say that?” Casper asked, his heart racing with the fear of being taken for a fool.

Glen shrugged in the carefree way that only someone in their early twenties could. “You’re watching him like you’re trying to figure out how to get in his DMs,” he said.

Casper only had a vague idea what that meant. He was about to deny everything and brush his interest off with some sort of excuse, but that seemed like an insult to Sawyer.

“I don’t know if he’d be interested in someone like me,” he said instead. A little self-deprecation was always the best way to get out of an awkward situation, as far as Casper was concerned. It was the English way.

Glen shrugged again, shifting the sloppy way he sat and watching Sawyer, Max, and Rory along with Casper. “I don’t think he’s interested in anyone,” he said. “I sort of got the impression he was ace.”

Casper blinked. “Ace?”

“Yeah, you know, asexual?” Glen explained, as if, at age thirty-three, Casper was far too old to understand all the nuances of modern sexual identities.

The part of Casper that wanted to snap at Glen that of course he knew what ace meant was eclipsed by the part of his brain that clicked all the pieces into place. If Sawyer really was asexual, not only would he have shied away from Casper kissing him, he would be deeply anxious about his sexuality being made public knowledge.

That had to be the answer. Instead of disappointing Casper or deflating the interest he had in Sawyer, for whatever reason, it made his heart beat harder and hope shoot through him. He’d never been all that interested in sex himself. But there was far more to liking someone, loving them, even, than getting between the sheets with them.

“I’m pansexual myself,” Glen went on with a cool, casual sniff, even though no one had asked him. Ah, youth! When Casper glanced to him, he went on. “Yeah, I’ve known since I was a kid, y’know? Why choose between girls and boys, or non-binary people? That’s so limiting, and I want to be free.”

Casper turned back to where shooting was about to start up again, but gave Glen a last side-eye. Maybe he actually was pan, but Casper’s money was on him just being twenty-something.

Then again, maybe twenty-somethings had the right idea about not making any sort of a big deal about who they fancied and just getting on with it. The newer generation had a lot of things going for them that Casper definitely didn’t.

“Quiet on set!” Rory called out.

That was the perfect excuse for Casper to shift away from Glen and close in on himself as he watched filming commence, lost in his own thoughts. Just because Sawyer was ace, if that’s what he was, it didn’t mean he was aromantic as well. Even if he was, that didn’t mean he didn’t want the sort of friendship Casper could offer him.

Of course, that meant Casper had to take a long look into himself to figure out what he wanted. He hadn’t tried to kiss Sawyer the night before by accident, that much was certain.

After a good twenty minutes of dwelling on it as he watched filming, Casper huffed at himself and shook his head. He was a grown man, not some lovesick kid. He needed to put the whole thing out of his head and concentrate on the job he’d been hired to do.

“Sawyer! Cut it out!” Rory suddenly bellowed, jerking Casper from his thoughts. “What are you doing?”

Casper sat a bit straighter and peered into the hyper-bright lights that lit the part of the conservatory where they were filming. The scene revolved around a piano that Sawyer was supposed to be playing while Max pretended not to be interested. Somehow, the sheet music that had been perched on the piano was all over the floor around the bench now.

“It fell, and I thought I’d throw in a little physical comedy as I picked it up,” Sawyer explained, halfway in character as Percy as he scrambled to grab all the pages of music.

“Did I tell you to throw in a comedy routine for this scene?” Rory growled, stepping in front of the cameras.

“I don’t need to be over-directed,” Sawyer said, more like himself, straightening with the music clutched to his chest. “Comedy fits this character.”

“Only if I say it does,” Rory nearly shouted.

Casper couldn’t imagine what bug had gotten up Rory’s arse, though he looked just as exhausted as Casper felt. Whatever it was, he wasn’t about to stand by when Sawyer was right.

He pushed himself out of his chair and strode into the scene, saying, “Actually, Sawyer is right.”

Eyes blazing, Rory turned to glare at Casper. “Last time I checked, you were not the director of this episode.”

“I’m not,” Casper said firmly, moving to stand just in front of Sawyer, like he could protect him. “But you did hire me for historical accuracy. Percy Montague was notoriously clumsy. Spilling sheet music is entirely something that he would do. Sawyer is playing the character exactly as he should be played.”

“Yeah, Rory, you really need to trust Sawyer’s instincts,” Max added. “He’s on the right track.”

Rory grumbled something unintelligible, then scrubbed a hand over his face. “Fine. Let’s move on with things.”

He turned and marched back behind the cameras.

Casper pivoted to look at Sawyer, raising his eyebrows like Rory had terrified him. Sawyer’s expression was tight with uncertainty, and up close, Casper could see the exhaustion in his eyes, but as soon as they made eye-contact, Sawyer relaxed into a smile.

“Thanks,” he said, adding a wink.

It was the smallest thing, but to Casper, it felt like a major forgiveness. Relief spilled through him so hard that he felt weak in the knees as he shuffled out of the scene and back to his chair. Sawyer had forgiven him for his boldness the night before. That was all he could ask for.

“From the top,” Rory shouted.

The actors resumed their places, and the crew scurried around, manning their various stations and doing their jobs. Casper sat back in his chair with a sigh, feeling better.

They only made it through another hour, setting and resetting the scene as they filmed it from multiple angles, before Rory stepped forward again, a hand pressed to his eyes like he was in pain.

“That’s it, guys,” he said, wincing. “This headache is trying to kill me. I can’t push through anymore. We’re a little ahead of schedule anyhow, so you all have the afternoon off, and we’ll pick up again tomorrow.”

A collective sigh of relief went through the entire room. Casper was surprised that he wasn’t the only one who had felt the knife’s edge of tension. But he only cared about what Sawyer thought as the cast disbursed and the crew set to work tidying things up for the day.

“I guess we have a free afternoon,” Sawyer said, heading right toward Casper once they’d been given leave to go.

Casper smiled. “I guess so.” He hesitated. Sawyer had come to him, but there was still a weight of awkwardness hanging between them. “Can I buy you lunch?” he asked at last, letting his shoulders drop. “I owe you a massive apology for last night.”

Sawyer seemed to relax a little, too. “No, you don’t,” he said, face pinching for a moment. “I should apologize for dragging you into my crazy.”

“You’re not crazy,” Casper said with a shy smile. “I mean, it doesn’t take an expert to see that you’ve got shit going on, but I think you’re far from crazy.”

Sawyer laughed and lowered his head, then peeked up at Casper with a sweet, apologetic look that had Casper’s heart pounding and his cock twitching. Even though he told himself to cool down.

“You forgive me?” Sawyer asked.

“Yes, of course I do,” Casper said with feeling. “Now, do you want fish and chips or not? Whitby is famous for them.”

“Yes, please,” Sawyer said, animated again. “Let me just de-Regency myself and we can head into town.”

He touched Casper’s arm as he stepped past and on to the hallway.

Casper placed his hand over the spot Sawyer had touched and drew in a breath after Sawyer was gone. Maybe he wasn’t completely ace after all?

He shook his head. That was none of his business.

It tookSawyer a good hour to completely de-Regency, as he’d called it. His costume couldn’t just be thrown aside like a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Casper also doubted Sawyer would want to go out in public wearing his make-up, his hair styled in Regency curls. By the time they met up in the garden behind Wodehouse Abbey, where a car park had been built in the nineteen twenties that was currently packed with cast and crew cars, Sawyer looked fresh from a shower and happy again.

“You driving?” he asked, as Casper nodded him towards his small Citroen parked under a shady oak tree.

“I always drive,” Casper said, slipping on a pair of sunglasses, as if he were the hot film star and not Sawyer.

Sawyer laughed, and in an instant, the two of them were back to the easy, comfortable place they’d been with each other while eating sandwiches the night before.

It was a short drive into Whitby, and despite the frustration of trying to find a public parking space close to the center of town, Casper’s heart felt light.

“It’s not that I mind Rory telling me how to act,” Sawyer complained freely as they parked and climbed out of the car. “He is the director, after all. But that doesn’t give him free reign over every aspect of how we interpret our characters.”

“Is it normal for an actor to make his own choices about those sorts of things?” Casper asked, tickled pink over the way he and Sawyer fell into step with each other, almost close enough to bump arms as they walked on, in search of a fish and chips shop. Not that there weren’t dozens to choose from.

“It really depends on the job and the director,” Sawyer said with a frown. “I know I should be grateful for this opportunity and everything it will mean for my career, but Rory’s style of directing chafes.”

“I’m sorry,” Casper said, pausing at a red light and glancing up at the ruins of Whitby Abbey on the high cliff off to one side before the light changed and they could walk on. “I don’t really know how the film world works.”

“Half the time it doesn’t,” Sawyer said gloomily. “I love acting, but it’s a constant battle of egos, and more often than not, the actors aren’t the ones who win, even though it might look like that to the rest of the world.”

Casper hummed in sympathy, but as he did, his phone started to buzz in his pocket.

“Some days it makes me want to scream,” Sawyer went on as Casper took out his phone. “I just want to do something I love with my life without people using that same love to push and pull me and use me as a commodity. I hate feeling like a pawn in someone’s money game, and I wish—oh, sorry.” He finished his rant as Casper tapped his phone and held it to his ear.

Casper would have ignored the call, but when he’d seen the name of the literary agent who was shopping his book about the history of The Brotherhood to publishers, his heart had nearly stopped.

“Hello, Avril,” he said, smiling with excitement.

“Hi, Casper,” Avril replied, her sad, sympathetic tone already giving away what she was about to say. “I just wanted to give you a call to let you know Lightning Press has decided to pass after all.”

“Oh,” Casper said, deflating entirely as Sawyer gestured to a tiny chip shop just inside an alley they’d been about to pass. “I…did they say why?”

He glanced mournfully to Sawyer.

Sawyer stopped, a look of sudden concern in his eyes, and inched closer to him.

Casper was surprised at the wave of comfort that small gesture gave him, even as Avril said, “While they found the subject matter interesting, they just don’t think they can sell gay history by an unknown author. If you want to sex it up a little and make it less dry and academic, I’m sure they’d be willing to take a second look at it. Or if you were a professor at Cambridge or something.”

Casper sighed, sharing his disappointment by meeting Sawyer’s eyes. It was exactly as he’d feared and expected. “Thanks, but I’m not sure rewriting the book that way would be right.”

“Okay, well, we’ve still got a couple irons in the fire,” Avril said. “I’ll let you know if things change.”

“Thank you for everything, Avril,” Casper said.

They exchanged their goodbyes, then Casper ended the call and dropped his arms, looking at Sawyer.

“What happened?” Sawyer asked. He stepped forward and touched Casper’s arm.

That small touch made Casper smile, even as he said, “That was my literary agent. My book about The Brotherhood has been rejected again.”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Sawyer said, looking like he really was. “And here I was going on and on, complaining about my successes. I was being a prick.”

Casper laughed, surprisingly happy. “No, you weren’t,” he insisted. “To complain is human.”

“And to eat fish and chips divine?” Sawyer suggested, nodding to the shop they stood in front of.

It was the most uncanny thing in the world. Casper had just experienced a set-back, and for all the reasons that he hated the most. He wasn’t flashy enough. He didn’t have the right job. He was invisible to the publishing world and the academic world alike.

But in that moment, he wasn’t invisible to Sawyer Kingston. And unlike earlier, he didn’t feel as if he’d cocked it all up with Sawyer either. Maybe he’d jumped in too fast, but he hadn’t ruined things. In fact, the way the two of them stood so close together, feeling free enough to share their disappointments, filled Casper with a paradoxical sense of excitement.

“Let’s eat,” he said with a broad smile. “Let’s drown our sorrows in greasy, fried fish and our chips in vinegar.”

“God, no!” Sawyer balked good-naturedly as they stepped into the shop. “Drown our chips in ketchup is more like it.”

Casper made a horrified sound, but his heart couldn’t have been lighter.