Winter Oranges (29 page)

“There you are,” Dylan said. “You’re such a morning person. I’ll never get used to it.”

“I’m not sure getting up at nine qualifies as a ‘morning person.’”

“Close enough.” He leaned his hip against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “You shaved.”

“Yep. I also made you coffee.”

Dylan took the cup but set it aside. He advanced on Jason, backing him into the corner, and leaned close to kiss his jaw. “No more caveman.”

“Consider it your Christmas present.”

“Christmas is still a month away.”

“I’m getting a head start.”

“Hmm.” Dylan kissed his cheek again, letting his lips linger over Jason’s ear, making Jason shiver. “Will you grow it out again for my birthday? I’m kind of liking the idea of caveman sex.”

“We’ll see.” But this wasn’t how Jason wanted their morning to go. He needed to point Dylan away from intimacy and back toward Hollywood. “You’re going to be strapped for time if you want to eat before you leave for the airport. You want a bagel? I have lox.”

Dylan groaned just as Jason had expected. He stepped away to grab his coffee. “Who the hell decided fish was a breakfast food? It had to be the Brits.”

“I don’t know about lox, but I do remember a surprising number of cold cuts for breakfast when I visited England. You want cold cuts?”

“I’m an American.”

“So you want French toast?”

“No, smartass. I want steak and eggs. Or maybe bacon and eggs.” He sipped at his coffee, considering. “I’ll settle for ham and eggs if that’s all you’ve got.”

“What I’ve got is bagels and lox.”

“Then suit up, Captain America, ’cause we’re going out for breakfast.”

Jason smiled, pleased that the conversation had gone exactly as he’d hoped. “I’ll buy.”

“You sure as hell will.”

The restaurant was in town, midway between Jason’s house and the airport, so Dylan packed his bags and took them with him. They took separate cars, knowing they’d have to say good-bye after breakfast. It wasn’t until they were sequestered in a back booth, their steak and eggs in front of them, that the awkward topic arose.

“Come with me, Jason.”

Jason laughed, as if the request was a joke. “What, like this? I didn’t even pack a bag.”

“I’ll wait for you at the airport.”

“There’s not enough time.”

“I’ll change my flight.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t—”

“Jason, please. Let me take you home.”

The smile fell from Jason’s face. He couldn’t push too hard, but there was no way he was following Dylan back to Hollywood. “This is my home. I don’t want to go back to LA. Not right now, at least.”

“Eventually?”

“For work? Maybe. To stay? I don’t think so.”

“Jason, I’m worried. I don’t think I should leave you like this.”

“I know I freaked you out.” Jason laughed uncomfortably and rubbed the back of his neck. “I freaked myself out if you want to know the truth. But I’m fine. I really am.”

“Just like that?”

Jason winced. Yes, this was the hard part. Having supposedly descended into utter madness, how did he go about convincing Dylan that he’d recovered in a day? He shoved eggs around his plate, mixing them with his hash browns. “I’ll find a therapist if it’ll make you feel better. I’ll get out of the house for at least an hour every day, I promise. You can call me whenever you want to check in.”

“Will you call Natalie?”

“To ask for more parts?”

“Yes. And to accept the offer you already have on the table?”

“You really want to do
Summer Camp Nightmare 4
? Are you seriously that anxious for me to revive that pathetic role?”

Dylan didn’t laugh. He set his fork aside and leaned back in his seat to pin Jason with a withering stare. “You won’t come away with me now. Fine. But I want a guarantee that you’ll get away from that damn house eventually. The movie gives me that.” He shrugged, as if trying to convince himself it was nothing. “Besides, it’ll be fun. I like when we get to work together. You know we’ll have a good time.”

“Can I at least read the script first?”

“Why bother? You know what happens. Horny coeds. Lots of running and screaming. People die horrible deaths. The usual shtick.”

“Do I die?”

“No. You, my friend, emerge as the hero, wounded but not beaten.” He held up his fork triumphantly. “Ready to do it all again in
Summer Camp Nightmare 5
.”

“Not a chance in hell.”

Dylan laughed and stabbed a piece of steak. “I’ll deal with chapter five later. Right now, I’m worried about part four.” He pointed the loaded utensil at Jason. “Say you’ll do it, or I’ll tell every reporter in Hollywood where you live.”

“You wouldn’t.”

Dylan grinned. “Try me.” He stuck the steak in his mouth and chewed happily, obviously sure he’d won, and Jason couldn’t help but laugh.

“Promise you won’t try to set me up with any women this time. I don’t care how horny you think they are.”

“I promise.”

“Okay,” he relented, wondering if he’d make a liar of himself later. “I’ll take the part.”

“Excellent,” Dylan said, tossing his napkin onto his plate. “Then it seems my work here is done.”

They finished their breakfast, and then it was time for a stilted good-bye in the parking lot. Snow fell listlessly around them, not sticking to anything, but determined to try. The gray sky hung low, a stark contrast to Jason’s current mood. He’d never been so happy to see Dylan leave.

“Promise me one more time,” Dylan said, leaning back against the bumper of his rental car.

It was hard to say exactly which promise Dylan wanted him to repeat, so Jason recited them all. “I’ll get out of the house. I’ll call Natalie. I’ll take the part. I won’t lose my grip on reality again.”

Dylan winced, but didn’t smile. “I’ll call tonight when I get home. And probably tomorrow too. And probably the day after that.”

“You don’t need to. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m doing it anyway.”

“All right. I appreciate it.”

“You can call me anytime, and I’ll be here as fast as I can.”

“I know. But like I said before: I’ll be fine.”

“Okay.” Dylan took a pill bottle out of his pocket and pressed it into Jason’s hand. “They’ll help you sleep. Use them if you need to, but not too much.”

Jason didn’t want them, but he didn’t want to argue either. He stuck them in his pocket. “Thanks.”

Dylan held his hand out, and when Jason shook it, Dylan pulled him close and kissed him on the cheek. “Anytime, JayWalk. Take care.”

He climbed into his car, glancing back once. He was questioning his decision, Jason knew. Wondering if he was doing the right thing. But in the end, he threw Jason one quick wave and drove away.

Somewhere in Jason’s imagination, a director yelled, “Cut! That’s a wrap. Good job, everyone!”

And Jason breathed a sigh of relief.

Jason was eager to see Ben when he got home. He went straight to the attic and pulled the globe from behind the boxes, but Ben was nowhere in sight. He spent two hours fretting, wishing for what felt like the hundredth time that he had a way to contact Ben, before the answer came to him. All he needed to do was take a nap.

It made sense. He was tired anyway from getting limited sleep several nights running. Between that and the sleeping pills Dylan had given him, he’d have no trouble drifting off. He swapped his jeans for a pair of pajama pants, washed down two sleeping pills with a giant glass of orange juice, and climbed into bed with the globe clutched tight in his hands.

The one time he’d made it inside, he’d been holding the globe, but he’d also been concentrating on Ben. He wondered which part was most important. He tried to concentrate on the image of Ben’s face, but as the sleeping pills took effect, it became harder. His mind kept drifting to other things.

To Thanksgiving, and lying under the stars.

To Dylan, and
Summer Camp Nightmare 4
.

To Hollywood.

To goldfish.

Goldfish?

He tried to chase that thought, but failed, falling instead down a deep, dark well.

And suddenly he was in the cabin, standing in front of the heatless fire. Ben jumped up from his seat on the couch, his blue eyes bright with excitement.

“You’re here.” He flew at Jason, throwing his arms around his neck. Jason caught him, burying his nose in Ben’s thick hair as he held him tight.

“I got tired of waiting.”

Ben pulled away enough to meet Jason’s eyes, their noses almost touching. “I can’t believe it worked again. I worried—” He froze, his eyes going wide. “What is that?”

“What is what?”

“Hold still.” Ben grabbed him, one hand on each side of his head. His grip was surprisingly strong. Jason thought for a moment Ben was going to kiss him, but no. Instead, Ben leaned closer and . . .

Sniffed him?

“Oh my God,” Ben breathed in wonder. “It’s orange, isn’t it?” His laugh was sudden and almost heartbreaking, full of both loss and newfound joy. Full of wonder and surprise. “I’d forgotten about oranges! We had one in our Christmas stocking every year. My sister and I would sit there in front of the fireplace and eat them, and I remember the heat of the flames on my face and the way the peel felt in my hand and the way she laughed and the juice running all over and I’d be sticky and my hands would smell like that for ages. Oh my God, I remember!”

He pulled Jason into a kiss, hungrily seeking out the flavor of orange juice. It wasn’t quite awkward, but it wasn’t exactly erotic either. Still, Jason happily obliged him, letting Ben chase the sweetness on his tongue until there was nothing left to share and Ben pulled away, his eyes bright. “Oh, Jason! You have no idea what it’s like to forget something like that. To suddenly realize that it’s still buried somewhere in your brain. I smelled it, and it was like . . . like . . .” He laughed and hugged Jason again, standing on his toes to put his arms around Jason’s neck. “I can’t even describe it except that it was wonderful! It was like Christmas all over again. Thank you, Jason. Thank you for bringing me oranges.”

Jason shook his head in wonder, stroking Ben’s back. “You’re welcome, I guess. I wish I could say I’d done it on purpose.” He certainly would have if he’d known how Ben would react. “I always got an orange in my stocking too, but I thought it was kind of lame, to be honest. I would rather have had chocolate.”

“That’s because you’re spoiled. You’re used to being able to get fresh fruit anytime you want it.”

That was a good point, but it brought up another question. “Weren’t oranges hard to come by in the middle of winter in the 1850s?”

Ben laughed, stepping back to gape at Jason in astonished delight. “Of course not! You do know they’re harvested in winter, right? From November to March?”

“Really?”

“Why do you think they’re always in Christmas stockings? And in wassail? And why do you think people stud them with cloves at Christmastime and—”

“Okay, I get it. I’m a dork. I didn’t realize winter oranges were a common thing.”

“Oh yes,” Ben said with mock solemnity. “We had plenty of winter oranges in Tennessee. Summer oranges, though? Those were rare.”

Jason felt he’d never understand how Ben managed to keep his good humor after everything that had happened to him. “You’re incredible,” he said, pulling Ben close and kissing him. “God, I missed you. I was hoping you’d be waiting for me when I got back this morning.”

Ben’s smile faded. “I spent half of yesterday pacing and fretting. I thought I was losing my mind. Your plan made sense at first, but the longer I had to think about it, the more it seemed like a terrible idea. I was sure it was going to backfire. I started imagining the most awful things.”

“Like what?”

“Like you deciding Dylan was right and leaving me in the attic forever.”

“You thought he’d convince me you were all in my head?”

Ben nodded hesitantly. “It’s the most logical explanation. I can see that.”