"Me?" I tap myself on the chest in case there's any other 'you' he could be referring to while staring directly at me with only the two of us in the kitchen. "I don't understand."
"We've done so many things together. On-screen and off. You're not only my business partner, or even just my best friend. You're my soulmate. And I don't think I'm cut out for dating because how would that work? You're everything I want even if we're not together in that way."
Saliva turns to lead in my mouth, and I can't formulate a single word in response. Talk about a bombshell. I wasn't expecting thisat all.
Am I really the reason Jack hasn't dated or slept with anyone since we quit performing?
4
Harvey
I take in my reflection in the mirror for the millionth time. A red-and-black flannel, sleeves rolled up to my elbows, with a black T-shirt underneath, jeans, boots. Hair washed, pulled into a ponytail. Beard trimmed and oiled.
Simple. Clean. Fine.
So why are my palms sweating and my heart racing like I'm flipping a car at high speed before pulling myself free. That used to be one of my signature moves back in my stunt double days. That, and the multi-story precision fall. If you needed someone to drop from a second or third story, hit an awning, then roll cleanly to their feet and continue the chase, I was the guy you'd call.
"This isn't even a date," I mutter to myself, feeling stupid for getting this worked up over a simple dinner with Zak and his…Jack.
That doesn't tell me what they are to each other, but it does safely rule out them being related by blood. Least I hope it does.
My cock stirs to life behind the zipper of my jeans as I imagine what they'd look liketogether. I frown and bite my lip. It's none of my business what the nature of their relationship is, and it's entirely inappropriate to be fantasizing about them in any capacity.
They're just being nice and saying thanks for helping them move their car this morning. That's it. One dinner, and then I'll probably never see them again.
I glance at my reflection again and suck in my gut. Then, because I’m annoyingly human and need to breathe, I exhale. The world might see me as a child-scaring brute, but inside, I'm filled with insecurity and self-doubt about my appearance.
I don't want to be gawked at or make people feel intimidated by my very presence. Just once in my life, I'd like to be seen for who I am, not the giant freak the world sees.
I shake my head and start toward the front door, grabbing the bottle of wine I had to go into town for since same-day delivery isn't a thing around here. One quick dinner, and then I'll retreat home and get back to feeling sorry for myself.
"That is fucking insane!" Zak exclaims, unable to conceal his excitement.
He cooked a delicious dinner—a slow-roasted chicken with crispy skin, lemon, and herbs, served with buttery potatoes and tender green beans—and when it was time for dessert—an assortment of cupcakes including, yes, mango cardamom—Jack suggested we sit out on the back porch since it's so nice out.
They asked me what I did for a living, so I've been telling them about my days as a Hollywood stunt double. Turns out, they're both huge action movie fans and are familiar with a lot of the movies I worked on.
"You had a wicked career, man."
"I did, yeah," I say, helping myself to another cupcake even though it's going to put even more of a strain on my already tight jeans waistband. "What about you guys? What do you do for work?"
Jack visibly stiffens, his eyes locking on Zak.
Zak clears his throat. "Guess."
"Hmm. Plumber?"
They both chuckle. "Why do we always get that?" Jack muses, like he's not expecting Zak to answer.
"We, uh, run a film production company, actually."
"What sort of films? Anything I might have heard of?"
They exchange another look, longer this time, silently communicating something I can’t begin to guess.
"Forget it. I'm sorry," I say. "I don't mean to pry."
One bad reaction could've been a coincidence, two isn't. I've overstepped somehow. Note to self: avoid this topic from now on.
