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His breathing hitched, and he didn’t answer. He just held me hard until we fell asleep.

I really threw my all into the part of Connor Montgomery over the next three days, and I have to say, if they gave you an award for playing yourself, I totally would have earned that bastard.

I smiled, shook hands, ignored flashbulbs, and interviewed in the cauldron of Hollywood the next day, and the only flinching you could see was from Noah in the background. (In fact, somebody captured a GIF set of him getting blinded for like, six shots in a row that’s going to remain classic for
years
.)

I answered the gay question and the relationship question and the “What is your next project?” question (Jilly had brought a list of them to me for the seasonal hiatus, and I liked the selection) and the inevitable, oft-repeated chestnut about if I enjoyed coming back to my roots.

Same answers now as there had been a few weeks ago, folks. Only thing that had changed was that now everyone knew where my pecker went when it
wasn’t
in my pants.

Apparently that was enough for me to have to answer the whole slew of them again, but I did so with charm and grace before sitting down to a movie that pleasantly surprised me.

“Wow,” Noah said, when my character gave one last smirk over his shoulder and then hurtled his spacecraft into the path of the oncoming asteroid. We weren’t holding hands, mostly because I didn’t want
him
to get all the questions before he was ready, but we were leaning shoulder to shoulder.

“Wow what?” I asked, around one of the last bites of popcorn.

“You’re really good,” he said, completely engrossed in the movie.

Suddenly, watching me save the galaxy wasn’t even that important. It was all about watching
Noah
think I was good at galaxy saving.

And he did. He watched the screen with the wide-eyed faith of a child, and no, I did not let him down. I
destroyed
that asteroid and I
saved
that motherfucking galaxy, and damn, just for once, it was pretty awesome to see me, Connor, the guy who literally couldn’t come unless Noah commanded it, go and do something cool.

I lost myself in the end of the movie, coming into the present with a thump when applause erupted after the postcredit scene. Oh. Oh yeah. In that moment every movie I’d watched as a kid came sailing back to me, and I remembered why I did this, why becoming somebody new was as important for the rest of the world as it was for me.

The director and producers were standing up, and so were the other cast members. Noah bumped me softly. “Go on, Connor. This was really good. Stand up.”

I stood up, and the applause increased. I smiled shyly and nodded. In that moment, with Noah sitting next to me, I felt more myself than I had since the blog interview where I’d come out. Yeah. Gay or straight, this was who I best loved to be.

Noah knocked back the rest of his imported beer and watched in puzzlement as Katie Grace, up-and-coming pop singer, toddled away on six-inch spiked black heels with glow-in-the-dark bows over the patent leather toes.

“Who in the hell was she again?”

“Actress, singer, It Girl,” I said, smiling out of reflex. I liked Katie, actually—she was new enough for the fame to be exciting, and talented enough to hopefully make it stick. She seemed to be avoiding the coke and party crowd, and she’d been charming and funny when she’d talked to Noah.

“Yeah, but why spend all that time talking to
me
?”

That made me actually laugh. “Because you’re a sarcastic fucker and you cracked her up.” I paused and watched as Katie glanced wistfully behind her shoulder, her blonde hair cascading over what appeared to be her naturally blue eyes. She waved a little, but Noah didn’t see her. “That, and she doesn’t know you’re gay and taken.”

He scowled. “That feels dishonest,” he said after a moment. “How did you deal with that?”

I thought about the girls through the years. Jilly had almost always fixed us up, saying either Vinnie or I were between girlfriends right now and needed to be seen with someone. She chose relatively unknown actresses, and in a way, I felt like I’d been doing them a service. They got to go to parties and make connections that they wouldn’t ordinarily, and in the meantime, they had an escort so they didn’t have to deal with the general pawing and drunk groping bullshit that goes along with being young, pretty, and single in a place where those things were disposable. I mean, I’d endured plenty of that when
I’d
been starting out, so it was nice to think they were getting a break from it themselves.

Most of those girls had gone on to at least some solid series roles, too—I hoped they remembered me as well as I remembered them.

“Jilly arranged my dates,” I told Noah. “There was never any expectation—I was always ‘between girlfriends.’”

He grunted and snagged a glass of champagne—which he gave promptly to me. “You think people are putting that together now?”

I shrugged. The inside of my head felt worn and transparent with trying to guess what people were putting together.

“What about for Vinnie?” His tone told me he already knew the answer.

“I . . .” I couldn’t hold them off forever? But I pretty much promised Vinnie’s ghost that I’d have to. “God, maybe they’ll lose interest,” I muttered. I know that for me, it had been relentless. I was pretty sure Jilly was going to end up with a restraining order if she threatened to geld one more damned reporter. “I . . . Can’t they just leave him alone?”

He leaned close to me then, like two friends sharing a secret. “You’ve been introducing me as your friend,” he said quietly. “You think people are putting
that
together?”

I looked at him sideways, suddenly overwhelmed by the need to feel his wide, smooth-skinned palms sliding down my torso, along my waist, cupping my ass. I shook my head then, resisting the temptation to be sucked into the place where it was only us together, because this was important.

“That’s why I’ve been introducing you as my friend,” I told him seriously. “I told you that before we left. You don’t want the questions, Noah—not straight out of the—”

He cupped my chin and kissed me in the middle of the wrap-up party.

Instinct. Three weeks? Four? Was that how long we’d been sleeping together? Was that how long it had been since he’d first made me unequivocally his, in body if not in soul?

Whatever it was, it opened my mouth and rendered me limp and senseless, at his beck and call. Here, with his tongue down my throat, one hand clamped on my hip, his breath filling my body—
here—
there was no uncertainty. I didn’t know if the entire party really stopped to watch Noah Dakers kiss Connor Montgomery until he could no longer think—or lie—but I know the silence in my head was vast and peaceful.

He pulled back, and I remembered I was a neurotic mess. “What did you— Why did you . . . We
talked
about this!” We’d planned with Jilly the night before—I could
swear
I remembered that!

“Yeah. Changing the plan.” He wiped my lower lip seriously, like it was important.

“Why?” I asked, voice throbbing.

“’Cause. You are having a hard enough time keeping your lies straight about
Vinnie
. You need to be honest about me. We understood?”

“But . . . but the press. And your family. And—”

“I don’t need protection.” He rolled his eyes. “I need one less thing to worry about whenever you open your mouth.”

“Yeah,” I said, still dazed by the public kiss. “Okay.”

He grabbed my hand then, just like when we were in Bluewater Bay, and walked me to the hors d’oeuvres table, then stood me in a corner while he filled up a plate.

I let this happen, because I could not straighten out the tangle in my own head enough to stop it.

“Hey, Con.”

I turned and smiled briefly. “Hey, Gina.” And speaking of girls I’d party-walked into better roles—here was someone I’d actually gotten into this particular picture. “How proud are you? You looked amazing!”

She tucked her hand under my arm and leaned her head against my shoulder. “Yeah, well, you helped get me the role, so that’s all you.”

“But you’ve got a series this year, right?” Something feminist and kick-ass and sci-fi—major network, even.

“Yeah.” She smiled, her pearly whites freshly bleached and blinding. But beyond the nice teeth and the perfect makeup, the smile was real—she’d been one of my favorite escorts for a year. She’d gone from blonde back then to a glossy brunette now, and the careless updo flattered her. So did the killer red dress—but the personality was the prettiest part of all. “I’m not getting my hopes up,” she said with a shrug. “The scripts aren’t there. But, you know, I’ve got other offers if it goes tits up.”

“Good for you. You totally deserve it.”

“Yeah, well, if
Wolf’s Landing
needs another random hottie, let me know. The writers on that show . . . mm.”

I thought of Brenda and Lissa, and the takeoff show they were doing.

“Email me— Actually, better yet, email Jilly. We may have something for you on a pilot show, if your season doesn’t pan out.” I patted her hand and smiled down at her, aware that we looked like everything a het couple should. “The cast and crew are amazing—you really couldn’t work in a nicer place.”

She quirked her mouth wistfully and patted my cheek. “Yeah, well, they snagged you, and you’re the world’s nicest guy.” Suddenly she looked sober. “So, this one—” a nod toward Noah “—he’s yours?”

Well, that kiss had been pretty unmistakable. “Yeah.” Some of the fog in my brain dissipated just saying the words. “Yeah, if he wants to keep me.”

“Well, you’re a prize,” she said gently. Then she stood on her tiptoes and kissed my cheek. “I’m sorry about Vinnie,” she whispered. “And none of us are going to say a word to the press until you do.”

I stared at her in shock. “Uh . . .”

Noah showed up with a plate of food and three flutes of champagne, expertly balanced. Yeah, he probably waited tables through school, because he was just that competent. “Noah Dakers,” he said pleasantly. “And you, Miss—”

“Gina Cleo,” she said briskly. I’d helped her come up with that—I still thought it was a good idea. “And I have my hands on your man.”

He nodded. “Here, have some champagne. It’ll make up for letting him go.”

She gave a quick grin, and I thought fondly of how much I’d missed her. We’d had fun on the set of
Jupiter—
but I didn’t realize how much of myself I’d given away.

“Uh, Gina . . .?”

She glanced up at me, and her smile twisted. “Connor, the whole world doesn’t know, but you had to know that some of us did. The question is,
you
came out. Why didn’t you tell the world about him? They’d understand, right?”

I thought about Vinnie’s suddenly brown house and the lines of cars in the driveway. The sounds of a true-blue Midwest family singing Christmas carols next door while I got quietly drunk in my kitchen. Vinnie’s panic if we so much as kissed on the balcony.

“His family,” I said quietly. “He . . . he just never wanted them to know. Not about being gay, not about us—”

“Not about rehab?” Oh Jesus.

“You know about
rehab
?” I whined.

“My best friend was there with him,” she said frankly. “Ten years, Con—and no girl could ever swear she’d slept with either one of you. It was the worst kept secret since Cary Grant and Randolph Scott. But his family didn’t know?”

I shrugged and looked at Noah. “The whole world knows about Noah,” I said brightly, like that would make up for the ten-year hole in my history.

“You should tell them,” she said, and right at that moment Kyle Adams, the director of
Jupiter
, made his way around to talk to us. And to have pictures taken, since the press was on his heels.

The next morning, Noah woke me up to get ready for Comic-Con by showing me a picture of Kyle, Gina, Noah, and me, standing in line, our arms around each other. The caption read, “Connor Montgomery and his special friend.”

“Was that so hard?” he asked, hand pushing my hair back from my forehead.