Page 57 of Home Grown Talent

Aaron groaned. “I know.” He met Owen’s gaze. “I feel like I’ve read this all wrong. I kind of assumed from what Misty said that you and Mason were just pretending—”

“For the record, I didn’t think that,” Lewis interrupted.

Aaron ignored him. “Did I assume wrong? Have you and Mason got something real going on? Not just for the show, I mean?”

Owen rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. He felt stupidly panicked by Aaron’s assumption and wasn’t sure whether he wanted to talk about this or not, but equally, he didn’t want to lie. Didn’t want to deny Mason.

“Yeah,” he muttered at last. “It’s very new, but… yeah, it’s a real thing.” He glanced at Lewis. “Are you okay with that?”

Lewis rolled his eyes. “Haven’t we already had that conversation? I have Aaron for fuck’s sake. Besides, I was only with Mason for about eleven minutes. But if you need me to say it, yes, it’s fine. Jesus.”

“It was a bit more than eleven minutes,” Aaron said drily.

“You know what I mean,” Lewis said with a wave of his hand. He turned back to Owen. “So, tell us how it’s going. You just said you really like him…” He raised an eyebrow in question, inviting Owen to expand. “More than just a little fun?”

Owen screwed up his face. “Honestly, it feels weird talking about this with you. I mean, when you were going out with him, you used to moan about him to me.”

“Yeah, well, you know me. It’s nothing personal, I just don’t really… do people.”

Owen gave a fondly rueful laugh. “Yeah, I know.”

“The fact is,” Aaron interjected, pointing at Lewis, “you and Mason were never suited. It was pretty obvious actually.”

“That’s true,” Owen agreed. “For one thing, you’re both kind of highly strung, so that was never going to work.”

“Highly strung?” Lewis echoed. “I’m not fucking highly strung. I mean, okay, I can be a little intense I suppose, but, you know, that’s because I’m the impulsive, artistic type.”

Aaron snorted amusement. “I think you mean you’re the hot-tempered, obsessive-workaholic-with-no-time-for-other-people type.”

“Unfair!” Lewis protested.

Aaron bumped him with his shoulder. “I don’t mean me or Owen,” he said soothingly. “I mean other people.”

“Oh,” Lewis said. “You mean people-people.” He thought about that for a moment, then shrugged. “Yeah, fair enough.”

“Anyway, the point is,” Aaron went on, “Owen’s obviously a better fit with Mason.”

“I am here, you know,” Owen grumbled.

Lewis grinned at him. “He’s right, though.”

“I am, aren’t I?” Aaron said, warming to his subject. “I mean, Owen, you’re so different from Lewis. You’re kind and patient and thoughtful. And you have that competent caretaker thing going on that—”

“Hey!” Lewis protested. “I’m not so bad.”

Aaron batted his eyelashes at Lewis. “You know I love you and only you.”

Lewis grunted and subsided. “Yeah, well. Just remember that.”

“Joking aside, you do have a point,” Owen admitted. “Mason is”—he searched for the right words—“I think he needs a bit of kindness and nurturing. When I first met him, I thought he was pretty shallow, but now that I’ve got to know him, I see he’s not like that at all. He’s actually a lot more down to earth, and even a little bit shy.” His cheeks felt suddenly warm, and he reached for his pint to hide behind, throwing back the last of his beer.

When he set his empty glass back down, it was to discover Lewis watching him with a faintly troubled expression.

“What’s that look for?” he said warily.

“Listen,” Lewis said carefully, “I don’t really disagree with anything you just said. And I do think you two could be a good fit. But Mason is—” He gnawed at his lower lip for a moment. “He really is quite into the whole celeb thing. You probably remember me moaning about him nagging me to go to more industry events and take him along, and always wanting to post stuff about us? And I’m not slagging him off for that. That’s fair enough. It’s what he does with his whole branding thing. I get it. But I think you should… be aware of that. Maybe be a little bit cautious, you know?”

Owen’s face felt red hot now. “Jesus, Lewis,” he muttered. “I’m not getting too—” But then he broke off without finishing the sentence and looked away. Because he was, and he knew it.