Chapter 6

SIX

As he andCasper sat at a greasy table with a chipped linoleum top that hadn’t been wiped down since the last customers had used it, eating their delicious, calorie-packed meal and laughing over ordinary, stupid things, Sawyer felt as if he’d not only dodged a bullet, he’d managed to outmaneuver a giant boulder that had chased him, Indiana Jones style, through a temple.

Casper didn’t hate him for running away in the night. In fact, if he didn’t know better, he would think that Casper felt he was the one who had stuffed it all in the first place. That couldn’t have been farther from the truth, and as they continued to debate vinegar versus ketchup while they finished the last of their chips, then got up, leaving the table just as much of a mess as it’d been before they sat down, but politely taking their rubbish to the bin before leaving, Sawyer felt as if the whole misunderstanding were water under the bridge.

“What I don’t understand is why you aren’t using your association with After the War to land a book deal,” Sawyer said, his hands tucked into the pockets of his light jacket as the two of them strolled along the path that led out to the pier and the various shops and arcades at that end of town. “Surely, having your names in the credits of what is certain to be ratings gold when it comes out next year should be more than enough for publishers to be lining up at your door.”

Casper laughed without humor, glancing around at a few people who did a double-take at Sawyer and squinted their eyes as they decided whether they recognized him. “I hate the idea of only getting my book published because I was connected to the right people at the right time and not on the merit of my work,” he said.

Sawyer shrugged, swaying closer to Casper to avoid a mum pushing a pram containing wailing twins. He stayed close to Casper even after the mum had passed. “Isn’t that what business is all about?” he asked. “All businesses. Entertainment, literary, probably even insider trading.”

Casper laughed with more humor. Sawyer loved the sound. It made him warm from the inside and had his skin tingling. “I probably should take advantage of my connections,” he sighed a moment later. “I guess I have too much pride. I want to succeed on my own merits, you know?”

Sawyer hummed. “I do know.”

The warm feeling he had went suddenly clammy. He swallowed hard, feeling another deep, dark confession trying to seep its way out.

Hell. Why not? He trusted Casper. More than trusted him.

“I turned down a role three years ago that ended up going to Tom Holland,” he said, keeping his voice low. When Casper twisted to frown at him in question, Sawyer went on with, “I made it all the way to having a meeting with the producer. The bastard said it was between me and Tom, but because I was a nobody instead of a superstar, he’d only give me the part if I sucked his cock.”

“No!” Casper stopped, eyes going wide. “I thought that sort of casting couch stuff only happened in, well, movies.”

Sawyer laughed ironically and nudged Casper to move on so they could avoid the giggling teenage girls behind him. “Oh, it’s real, alright. I mean, for people at my level. I sincerely doubt anyone has asked Tom for favors. That’s one reason why it might be a relief to reach a level in my career where I’ll be above those sort of tit-for-tat shenanigans.”

“It’s shocking,” Casper said, shaking his head. “Sorry you had to deal with that.”

“Yes, well, I didn’t in the end,” Sawyer said, kicking a stone in his path as they reached the noisier, flashier part of the pier where the arcades were. “I lost the part, but I gained a good reputation in the long run. Being squeaky-clean landed me a different role about a year after that. That part led to another one, and that led to Start at the Beginning, and now here we are with After the War.”

“And I, for one, am glad you landed that part,” Casper said with a smile that made Sawyer feel truly good inside.

“So am I,” Sawyer replied, pausing in front of the arcade so he could just smile at Casper for a moment.

He liked him. More than liked him. And maybe it was a paradox, but by not trying to be the sophisticated, sex-obsessed grown-up he always felt like he was supposed to be, on screen and off, by embracing that innocent side of himself with Casper, he felt more mature than most of the people he came across in show business.

With that thought, he smiled and said, “I will now proceed to beat you soundly at Space Invaders.”

Casper laughed, free and open, and said, “You’re on.”

It was ridiculous how excited a man in his thirties could be to race a guy he liked to an arcade video game, then to spend a solid twenty minutes, with both of them blasting aliens as enthusiastically as the twelve-year-olds a few machines down. It was also an astounding relief to just have fun without worrying or second-guessing what the other person had to be thinking about him. If only Sawyer had managed to have as much fun in his actual childhood.

Once all the aliens were blasted, they moved on to a motorcycle racing game that had them sitting on giant, plastic and metal motorcycle replicas as they zoomed around a digital track. The awkwardness of the night before was forgotten, grumpy directors and indifferent publishing companies were pushed to the backburner, and even the looming threat of exposure to the ravenous public hunger for gossip was far from Sawyer’s mind. For just those few moments, nothing mattered, and that meant everything to him.

“I’m surprised more people haven’t recognized you,” Casper said an hour later, as the two of them licked ice cream cones while strolling back toward the bridge that would take them over the River Esk to the Abbey side of town.

“Oh, people have been recognizing me, alright,” Sawyer said, keeping his voice low and pretending to dart a suspicious look around at everyone else enjoying the town. “They’re just too intimidated by my star power to say anything.”

Casper laughed. “You are the least intimidating person I know.”

“I beg your pardon?” Sawyer pretended to be offended.

“No, I mean you’re not a scary, mean celebrity at all,” Casper laughed harder. “Not like Phillip Dunstan.”

Sawyer laughed so loudly he actually did draw attention. He snorted to keep the rest of his humor inside and held his free hand to his mouth for a moment. “Phillip’s not so bad,” he said, then lowered his voice to add, “He does think the world of himself, though.”

“I can tell,” Casper snickered.

“He’s not the worst of the celebrities I’ve worked with, though,” Sawyer said.

“Oh?” Casper arched one eyebrow, looking pink-cheeked and mischievous. “Who is, then?”

“A gentleman never kisses and tells,” Sawyer said self-importantly.

Casper’s humor slipped just a bit, which alarmed Sawyer and pinched his gut. He rushed to cover his slip, and the strange thought that he probably should kiss Casper after all, with, “That sort of arrogance comes from insecurity, and I don’t need anymore insecurity in my life than I already have.”

“You’re not insecure,” Casper said with a sly, sideways look at him. He’d reached the cone of his ice cream and bit into it with a satisfying crunch.

“Ha!” Sawyer laughed. “You have no idea.”

“If you were insecure, you wouldn’t be wandering around Whitby in the middle of the summer holidays when half of England is crowding the place,” Casper said.

Sawyer bit into his cone and tilted his head to the side. “I suppose you’re right,” he said. “Or maybe I just want to enjoy what is likely one of the last times I’ll ever be able to walk freely in public without people rushing up for a selfie.”

They’d reached the bridge and crossed over while finishing up their cones. When they made it to the other side, Casper said, “I hadn’t thought of it like that.” His face pinched in sympathy that Sawyer found surprisingly sexy. “It must be terrible not to be able to, say, enjoy a walk through Hyde Park without people interfering with you.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Sawyer said with a sideways grin, swaying closer to Casper again. “I’m not that famous yet. I’ll let you know in a few months.”

Casper laughed. He also lowered his head slightly and peeked sideways at Sawyer in a way that made him look sweet and beautiful while still looking like a man in his thirties. Sawyer loved it. Not only that, he found himself wanting to hold Casper’s hand as they walked up the increasingly steep hill, past shops, restaurants, and tourists. They were in a crowd, but the only part of it that existed for Sawyer was Casper.

“Are those actual postcards?” Sawyer asked, using one hand to point across Casper’s body to one of the many souvenir shops.

With his other hand, he brushed the backs of Casper’s fingers between them. It was a classic redirect. No one who might have been watching them and wondering if he was who they thought he was would notice the subtly sensual gesture.

“I didn’t think people even made postcards anymore,” Casper said, twisting his hand slightly so he could caress Sawyer’s fingers. Skin whispered against skin. Sawyer had perfectly trimmed nails. They were a tactile wonder. So was the slight rub of fingertips against palm, especially when a corresponding tickle sent sparks across his palm. “How extraordinary.”

Sawyer laughed and let the momentary flirtation go. There really were too many people around them to take things much further anyhow. Instead, he said, “You sound like a stuffy old matron from a Victorian novel when you say things like that.”

“Oh. Do I?” Casper said, his smile faltering.

“Absolutely,” Sawyer said, picking up his pace a little to join the stream of people heading to the famous stairs leading up to the Abbey. “And I happen to adore it,” he added quietly.

Casper’s smile returned in full force. His chest moved as if he were already having a hard time catching his breath, even though they hadn’t reached the stairs yet.

There was something there. Sawyer could feel it, waiting and pulsing, ready to grow. Casper was the most amazing man he’d ever met. He hadn’t demanded anything of him, not really, and he hadn’t expected him to perform or be the person everyone saw on their television screens. Casper took him as he was, cock-ups and all. The fact that they were there, exploring Whitby together, after Sawyer had broken a precious book was proof enough that something beautiful could happen between the two of them.

“Here we are,” Sawyer said at last when they reached the foot of the stairs. “I’ve read all about the famous nine hundred ninety-nine stairs of Whitby Abbey, and I’m dying to try to conquer them.”

Casper laughed loudly. “It’s the one hundred ninety-nine stairs, and I’ll give you a hundred and ninety-nine pounds if you can run all the way up.”

“Really?” Sawyer brightened considerably. The lightness of the challenge and the fun in Casper’s eyes alone would get him at least halfway up to the top. “You’re on.”

He then turned and started to race up the stairs, dodging the few people who were walking up or down more sedately, or leaning against the railing on one side to look out over the North Sea and admire the view.

The stairs were shallower than most stairs Sawyer was used to climbing and they were worn with time. That didn’t make them any easier to run up, though. After twenty or so, Sawyer began to feel it in his legs. Another twenty and he was gasping for air, which came as a total shock. Twenty more and he had to stop and lean to the side, resting his hands on his knees and almost bending double.

“It’s harder than it looks,” Casper laughed a few seconds later, as he walked up behind him. At least he was breathless, too.

“Why is it so hard?” Sawyer asked, managing to pant and laugh at the same time.

“I have no idea,” Casper said, beaming. He hooked an arm under Sawyer’s elbow and said, “Come on. I’ll help you make it.”

It was clearly a ploy to make physical contact, but Sawyer didn’t mind at all. He played up his exhaustion and the difficulty of the climb as the stairs curved up toward the top of the cliff, clutching Casper in return.

“This is agony,” he groaned, reaching for one of the railings as they neared the top. “What sort of witchcraft went into fashioning these stairs?”

“I suppose…it was a…defense mechanism…against the Vikings?” Casper exaggerated his panting as they made their way on.

“I’d certain be too exhausted to rape or pillage anything after charging up these stairs,” Sawyer agreed.

They were being ridiculous, and more people were starting to recognize him as they carried on. A few had even whipped out their phones to take pictures of him. Strangely, Sawyer didn’t mind. He was having fun. But more than that, he was with someone who made him feel safe.

“We made it!” Casper declared when they reached the top of the stairs. “Victory!”

“No!” Sawyer groaned, leaning against Casper as the two of them rested on the edge of the wall that surrounded the small churchyard where they found themselves. “The path is still on an incline up. That is supremely unfair.”

“Oh, dear,” Casper said, tutting at their dilemma. “Whatever shall we do?”

He leaned heavily against Sawyer, being as silly as Sawyer was. It was perfect. It felt so right. The two of them were a matched set, Sawyer just knew it.

He turned his head to grin at Casper and found their faces, more importantly their lips, inches away from each other. How hard would it be to just kiss him? What was he so afraid of anyhow? Kisses were lovely and warm. They didn’t have to lead to anything more.

Except, the expectation was that they did lead to something more. Half a dozen aborted kisses Sawyer had once been part of that were intended to push, coerce, or otherwise take him places he didn’t want to be filled his mind.

“We can do this,” he said breathlessly, though not necessarily for the reasons Casper might think he was breathless. “We can make it to Whitby Abbey in one piece.”

He pushed off from the wall and, as a consolation for not kissing Casper and possibly letting him down because of it, he grasped Casper’s hand to pull him on.

He only felt comfortable with Casper’s hand in his for a few seconds more. Word must have started to spread that Sawyer Kingston was exploring the ruins of Whitby Abbey, and if that ball had started rolling, there was a real chance any privacy he and Casper had hoped to have would vanish.

“You have to pay to get in and get close to the Abbey,” Casper warned him as they reached a little courtyard with a booth set up, selling tickets. “Unless you happen to have an English Heritage card.” He reached for the wallet in his back pocket as he spoke.

Sawyer pulled out his wallet as well. “As a matter of fact,” he said as he opened it and took out the card in question.

Casper gasped, his eyes going as wide as if Sawyer had pulled out a wad of bills. “I think I love you,” he said, completely deadpan.

Sawyer’s heart flipped in his chest, and his throat squeezed tight. For some ungodly reason, he felt like he might cry. It wasn’t real. They were just being silly. They’d basically just met and didn’t really know each other.

But those simple words cut Sawyer to the quick. They were everything he’d always wanted to hear, and from someone whom he admired more with each passing second.

“I love you, too,” he said, torn between genuinely meaning it and feeling like the biggest fool in England for joking about the very thing he suddenly wanted more than he wanted to take his next breath.

Something flickered in Casper’s expression, something powerful and dangerous.

“Because you have the same card I do,” Sawyer rushed to say, forcing a smile as he nodded to the English Heritage card Casper held. “We can be English Heritage buddies.”

“Oh. Yes. Right.” Casper tore his eyes away from Sawyer’s and stared at the card in his hand. “Handy things, these,” he said, a note of disappointment in his voice.

No, no, no! Everything had been so perfect, so wonderful and…and nice. And yes, just “nice” was usually too boring and bland for people, but Sawyer craved nice. He just wanted a moment to breathe in the niceness and not feel the pressure of everything else.

He was helped along by the middle-aged woman in wellies who cleared her throat noisily behind them. Sawyer was certain she was about to ask for a selfie when she said, “Stop holding up the line.”

It was the perfect way to break the tension of the moment. Sawyer and Casper both chuckled sheepishly, apologized, then moved on to present their cards to gain admission.

Ten minutes later, they were in what felt like an entirely different world. It was amazing how much ten pounds and a few security fences could do to separate one from the rest of the world.

It was more than that, though. There was something ethereal and timeless about Whitby Abbey. It had stood for almost a thousand years, and even though it was a crumbled ruin now, as he and Casper walked silently along its grassy aisles, staring up at what had once been vaulted ceilings and arched, stained-glass windows, but was now just sky, the sound of the sea just barely audible below, it was as if they’d slipped into an entirely different world. The only thing they could do was walk slowly through the ghosts, feeling a thousand years of hopes and dreams and fears pass through them.

“Can you imagine what it must have felt like to stand on this cliff, looking out over the sea at Viking longboats as they grew closer, knowing they would sack and destroy everything?” Casper asked in a hushed voice as they stood in the shelter of an old wall, gazing out over the horizon.

Sawyer caught his breath and shifted to face Casper. “I wanted to kiss you last night,” he said in a low, hushed voice. “I…I want to kiss you right now. I’m a complete coward for not doing it.”

Casper turned to him, his eyes growing wide and filling with desire. “You’re not a coward,” he said, his voice equally soft and carried away by the wind that swirled around them. “If…if you’re…ace, then I understand and respect that.”

Sawyer blinked, going hot despite the cool wind whipping at him. He wondered where Casper had heard that. He wondered how true it was.

“I…I don’t know what I am,” he said, as carefully as he could. “I know what I don’t want, but…but I’ve never been sure about what I do want.”

“You don’t have to do or want anything with me,” Casper said, leaning his shoulder against the wall and tilting his head to the side. He reached out and brushed Sawyer’s hand, but didn’t grab it or trap him.

Sawyer could still feel the touch even after Casper took his hand back. “I think I would probably try to summon up the courage to kiss you right here, right now, if there weren’t so many people pointing phones at us.”

Casper smiled, his eyes filling with warmth, like liquid honey. He was so beautiful it hurt.

“Wait, what?” he said a moment later, snapping straight.

The mood between them changed in an instant.

“Yeah, people started recognizing me down by the churchyard,” he confessed. “I think a few of them might have actually paid the ten pounds to get into the Abbey so they could get pictures of me.”

“That’s incredibly rude,” Casper said with a frown.

Sawyer shrugged. “It means we earned a few quid for English Heritage today.”

Casper laughed, but he looked like he wasn’t sure he should. “What do we do?” he asked. “Do you want to let them take selfies with you, or whatever it is people do with celebrities these days?”

Sawyer winced. “No, not really,” he sighed. “But I suppose I should.”

“What do you want to tell people about us?” Casper asked more seriously.

Sawyer swallowed. He wanted to tell people that they were together, that he’d found someone who made him happy just the way he was. But that would be putting the cart well before the outted horse. His agent and publicist would probably flay him alive if he did anything like that without consulting them first.

All of it sucked.

“Just be honest and tell them you’re the historical consultant for After the War, and you were educating me on some of the history of the area,” he said.

“I can do that,” Casper said with a smile.

Sawyer smiled in return. It meant the world to him that he had someone he could trust.

“Ready?” he asked, raising one eyebrow.

“Not really, but yes,” Casper said.

Sawyer nodded. “Welcome to the wonderful world of celebrity,” he said, then stepped away from Casper and the wall. “It’s a lot like watching the Viking longboats coming in for a raid.”

Casper laughed, and they headed toward the group of tourists who knew they’d been given the signal that it was okay to approach.

Sawyer guessed he’d have to wait for another opportunity to prove to himself he wasn’t too much of a coward to kiss a guy he fancied.