Page 51 of Home Grown Talent
“Okay, but there’s a persona,” Mason explained, dropping Owen’s hand as the waitress came over with their drinks. She set down two thick cocktail napkins, then, with infinite care, the brimming coupe glasses. The spirit was milky and bluish, and a plump black cherry nestled in the tiny indentation at the bottom of each glass, spiked by a miniature silver sword. Like a heart, Mason thought. He smiled and thanked her, and as she moved away, he turned back to Owen. “You have to create a persona, or it’s just too intrusive.”
“Is that what you do?” Owen asked. Before Mason could respond, he added, “It is, isn’t it? I actually saw you do it when we were filming—you were a sort of exaggerated version of the real you. A bit louder, a bit friendlier, a bit more outspoken.” A strange look came over his face, and he added, “It’s how you were when Lewis first introduced us.”
That observation left Mason feeling oddly exposed, but he tried to cover up his reaction with an airy wave of his hand. “Yes, well, it’s not like having a completely different personality. You just… turn it up a bit.”
“I don’t think I could do that, though. I’m a what-you-see-is-what-you-get kind of guy.”
That was true; Owen was always himself. It was one of the things Mason really liked about him. There were no sides to Owen Hunter, no angles. “That’s okay,” Mason said. “Viewers will respond to your authenticity.”
Owen cocked an eyebrow. “Is that what Misty told you?”
Laughing, Mason said, “Yeah. Sorry, but she’s right. People do respond to authenticity, probably because it’s so rare.”
Owen considered that as he picked up his glass and took a sip, his large hand making it look dainty. Mason found himself holding his breath, watching Owen’s expression as he tasted his drink—thoughtful, surprised, then pleased. “Wow, that’s delicious.”
“It is, isn’t it?” Satisfied, Mason took a sip of his own drink, savouring the burst of flavour. “It’s my favourite.” Then he set it down and reached into his pocket for his phone. “Selfie time. Do you mind?”
“Er, I suppose not.”
Scooting over, Mason wiggled into the space next to Owen on the loveseat.
“Oh, you mean with me?” Owen said, surprised.
“Of course with you. I’ve been teasing this on Insta all day. Okay, so pick up your drink.” Mason picked up his own glass, holding his phone in the other hand. “Lean in and try to get your drink in the frame… Yeah, that’s it. Oh my God, try to look less terrified.”
“Bloody hell,” Owen muttered, but he was laughing, and that was perfect. Mason held his finger on the button, and his phone rattled through a bunch of pictures as they pressed their faces together and posed for the camera. Well, Mason posed. He didn’t bother going back to the other seat when he was done, just set his drink down and scrolled through the pictures looking for the best ones.
“How about that?” he asked eventually, showing Owen. In the pic they were both smiling, Mason’s face slightly hidden by the rim of his glass, but he liked the way the light had caught his hair and Owen’s eyes.
“Okay,” Owen said with a shrug, settling back against the cushions and sipping his drink. After a while, he added, “Do you have to do all that now?”
Mason nodded, fiddling with the filters and cropping the image just enough that some of the glittery background lights of the bar were still visible. He posted it, tagging Owen and Misty, and Cosmos, and wrote—Looks delicious, yes? (What? I mean the drink!) #cocktailporn #WeekendWellness #justgoodfriends #instagay #love
The likes and comments started rolling in, and he smiled at all the rainbow hearts and squeee! Given that their first slot hadn’t even aired yet, the reaction was fantastic. Misty would be stoked. And he was excited to see how it developed, too; if the TV audience got behind the ship, it could be huge. Look at what happened to that YouTuber on Strictly.
Owen said, “It’s amazing how much time you have to spend doing all that stuff.”
“How much time do you spend gardening?” Mason said, pocketing his phone. “It’s part of the job.”
“Fair point,” Owen admitted, although he was studying Mason with a curious look. After a moment, he added, “And…this is part of your persona? The social media stuff you post?”
Mason nodded. “Yeah. It’s a curated version of my life, I suppose. It’s not like I post pics of my dirty laundry. It’s only the things I want people to see.”
Thoughtfully, Owen nodded and sipped his drink. They were sitting close now, the knee of Mason’s crossed leg resting against Owen’s thigh. Comfortable. After a while, Owen said, “So are we, like, officially seeing each other on Instagram now?”
“No,” Mason said. “We’re just teasing it. If people ask, I’m saying we’re just good friends.”
“I don’t mind people knowing.” Owen smiled. “I mean, I sort of still can’t believe it’s real.”
Mason stared at him. “What do you mean?”
“Well… Let’s face it. You normally date glamorous celebrities.” He winked and added, “You’re way out of my league.”
“That’s bollocks,” Mason scoffed. “For fuck’s sake, practically the first time we met, you ended up holding my hair while I puked in the loos. Then you poured me into a cab and had to fend off the world’s most cringeworthy seduction.” He gave an exaggerated shudder. “I probably still had vom in my hair. Trust me, Owen, you are so not out of my league.”
That made Owen laugh, his eyes twinkling in that way that made Mason’s insides tingle. He really liked making Owen laugh. It was weirdly addictive. Leaning forward, close enough to murmur into Owen’s ear, he added, “And you fuck like a randy porn star.”
At which point Owen choked on his cocktail and Mason ended up thumping him on the back, both of them laughing so hard half the bar must have noticed. Which was an excellent result.