He cupped my chin and nodded. “It’s nothing we haven’t heard before, okay? When the Storm lose, we’ve had our fair share of slurs thrown at us, saying we’re weak because a few of us are open about who we might want to love, accusing me and some of the other guys of orgies in the locker room. Then, the next game we win, and suddenly, we’re gods among men. Look, babe, it’s just words, and what’s important is you and me. So, please come to my place so we can work through this—”
“I can’t—”
“Yes, you can. Please.” Cam was so focused, gripping my upper arms, almost willing me to say yes.
“Someone got over my gate, Cam. They could have…” Hurt me, hated me, I didn’t know.
“The security around my place is insane, it has to be with the number of idiots who try to get close to Rottie next door. Say yes, Finn.”
“You really want me to—”
“Move in with me?” he pleaded. “And not just on a temporary basis. I know it’s quick, and maybe we would have danced around the subject for months, but, fuck, I love you, and my place is a home you’d fit right into.”
“I love you too.” Not that it was the point of what he was saying, but it was worth repeating.
“We can get anything important you have here moved over.”
I blinked at him. “I don’t have anything important apart from Fred and Wilma.”
He glanced around. “Huh?”
“My fish I mean.”
“You named them Fred and Wilma?” He smiled, and it was so infectious I couldn’t help but smile in return, and a tiny part of my fear lifted enough to let the sunshine break through the growing clouds in my head.
“I can’t believe I never told you, but I like the Flintstones, and Scooby Doo, oh and Tom and Jerry. They’re cool, and I’m a massive nerd.”
“Says the man who’s sleeping with the person who jumped him when he dressed as Thor.” He smiled. We kissed. It was perfect. “Anyway, I already have Jed finding an expert to move them to my place. It’s all good.”
“Okay.”
“Come live with me?”
“Can I pay rent?”
He laughed and hugged me tight. “Sure thing, Mr. Richie Rich.”
I lasted a couple of weeks, right up until we were three days out from filming on The Cup.
The furor had died down, everyone was right about that, but there was so much pain in the world, and bit by bit, it nibbled away at me. The kids who wrote and said I gave them hope, the parents who saw their kids in a new light, contrasting with the nutjobs who blamed me for anything that ever went wrong, including the weather, and hoped I died. I could take the hate, but being responsible for carrying the torch for queer kids and families was too much to bear, because how could Finn Kerrigan, soap star, lucky fucker, wannabe serious actor, be held up as a beacon of hope?
Moving in with Cam was perfect. We fit. Fred and Wilma arrived and had pride of place in Cam’s kitchen—our kitchen, he kept saying—and waking in his arms every morning was bliss.
But out there, with filming, and the messages, and the hopes and fears, there was more than I could handle, and the complex emotions were a fizzing ball of worry that stole my creative thoughts. I didn’t have a therapist, but Atlas hooked me up; only one session in and all I felt was that I was a fraud.
Who was I for people to look up to?
“Finn? Earth to Finn?”
I glanced left at Cam, bobbing next to me in his vast pool, the faint sounds of rock music echoing from the property next door, and a camel staring at us over the fence.
“Huh?”
“You were miles away.”
“There’s a camel.” I pointed at the inquisitive animal, who huffed and turned to leave.
“Yep. But that isn’t what’s got you staring into the middle distance.”
He floated us back to the side, into the shallower end, and we sat on the steps, the early evening sun warm on any exposed skin.
“What if I fuck everything up?”
“You’re worrying about the movie? Don’t. River says you have an eye for the script, and he’s convinced it will be big.”
“I don’t mean the movie.”
“Then what? Sweetheart? What?”
I leaned on him, every emotion bubbling to the surface, and my eyes filled with tears.
“What if I can’t be the person that people want me to be?”
He held me when I cried like a confused, exhausted toddler, and I felt foolish and low and fucked-up, and still he held me.
We both heard the buzzing at the same time, and I glanced up, a drone hovering over the pool, way up high. I heard a bang, and the thing disintegrated, some of the pieces splashing into the deep end of the pool, one larger part slamming into the gazebo.
“Got it!” someone yelled next door.
“Fucking paps!” another voice yelled back.
“See!” I shouted at Cam, right in his face. “It’s hurting your life now! We may as well end it before this destroys us. Fuck! I need to go.” I knew I wasn’t making sense, but the heartbreak in Cam’s eyes turned to flinty determination.
He held my hand and tugged me up and out of the water.
“Fuck them and fuck this shit. We’re going inside.”
Chapter 18
Cameron
For some reason I was in full caveman mode.
Guess this was my Fred Flintstone era.
Whatever.
Tugging Finn behind me, I stormed into my house, slammed the doors, and called out to Alexa to close the horizontal blinds. As the room slowly darkened, I released Finn, turned, and tried to get him to a calmer place. It might have worked if I weren’t as keyed up as I was. He was for sure feeding off my vibes.
“We’re going to meditate,” I told him. His eyes rounded. “Yeah, I said it. We’re going to sit down, close our eyes, and find our center.”
“Uhm… okay?”
We padded further into the living room, removed the cushions from the sofa, then plopped our asses on them. He sat with his back against the couch, I used the side of my recliner for a backrest. Legs folded into a lotus, we sat across from each other, his tremulous smile helping to ease the rabid urge to throttle all the press bubbling like a rancid stew inside me.
A moment or two passed.
“Now what?” Finn asked.
“Well, we close our eyes, breathe, and say ohm a lot.” I knew jack and shit about meditation. My sister was the real expert, but she was out of town with a young man and had left a rather snippy message in the family chat to not disturb her unless someone had died or was on the cusp. I could call my neighbor. Rottie had some sort of ancient guru from Tibet—or maybe it was Tahoe Vista—who came to his place twice a week to lead him through some mindfulness stuff. Nah. I didn’t really want to subject Finn to Rottie while Finn was so frantic. Rottie was a lot. Maybe after I talked Finn down off the ledge he was teetering on. We’d need a hand to slip out of my place undetected. I could dodo the meditation thing. It couldn’t be too hard, right? Sit and breathe. I’d seen Kelly do it a thousand times. Cake.
“Okay, I can do that.” The tension around his eyes and pretty mouth had lessened. That was a good start. I leaned in to kiss him just once. He sighed in pleasure as his eyes drifted shut.