Page 91 of Home Grown Talent
Secretly, Mason mourned the loss of his hair. Not that he’d say as much to Owen, but he hoped it would grow back quickly.
They took their seats, and Owen appeared reasonably calm as he shook hands with the presenters, though it was obvious to Mason from his uncharacteristic silence and lack of expression that he was very far from being himself.
“It’s great to have you on,” Leah gushed once they were all seated. “The audience is loving your segment—we’re getting loads of positive feedback.”
Marc’s smile was more grudging. “Yes,” he said. “It’s proving to be quite popular.”
Owen said nothing, and after a slightly too-long pause, Mason hastily put in, “Yeah, we’re pretty stoked about it, aren’t we, Owen?”
“Yes,” Owen said. He gave a quick, tight smile.
Marc and Leah glanced at one another, sharing a look, and Mason felt a stab of unease. He eyed Owen worriedly. He was very obviously not okay, and Mason was feeling increasingly certain things were about to get worse. He wasn’t sure exactly what was going to happen during this interview, but Misty had said they’d be showing his re-filmed section with the pineapple plants.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Why hadn’t he warned Owen earlier? He had intended to tell Owen about it, but he’d wanted to do it face to face. Except they hadn’t ended up seeing each other all week. And yeah, okay, maybe he’d been putting it off because he knew Owen wouldn’t be happy, but he really had thought he’d be able to do the deed this morning before the show started. Only he hadn’t anticipated Owen having a freak-out about going on live TV. Owen was usually so calm, taking everything in his stride. It was one of the things that had first drawn Mason to him, that sense that Owen was easy in his own skin. So, to see him like this was…unsettling.
There had been a brief window of opportunity in the green room, but Owen had seemed so anxious that Mason hadn’t wanted to stress him out more. So, he’d sat there, paralysed with indecision, till Adam came and took the decision out of his hands. But God, now Mason desperately wished he’d taken the bull by the horns because, as nervous as Owen had seemed then, being ambushed on live TV was going to be ten times worse, wasn’t it?
“Mason?”
He blinked and focused on Marc, who was looking at him expectantly.
“Sorry. I was miles away. What was that?”
Marc frowned his disapproval. “I was saying we’ve cut the first few questions. We’ve decided to show some gardening pictures our viewers have posted online instead and then move straight onto the attention your relationship’s been getting on social media—that’s what the viewers want to see.”
Mason glanced at Owen, wondering if the social media stuff would bother him, but he didn’t even seem to be hearing Marc. His jaw was clamped with tension, there was a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead, bared by his short haircut, and his eyes were distant. It was as if he’d gone somewhere else entirely.
Mason felt a pang of worry coupled with a helpless sense of dread.
“Forty-five seconds,” someone said. Marc and Leah both adjusted themselves on the sofa, assuming toothy grins in readiness for the cue.
Mason leaned across the sofa and touched Owen’s hand. “Are you all right?” he whispered urgently. A production assistant glared at him, but he ignored her.
Owen nodded, but he was pale, his dilated pupils making his blue eyes darker than normal, his chest moving with shallow breaths.
“Listen, just follow my lead. I’ll—”
“Mason,” someone said sharply—he didn’t know who, but it was enough to snap him back into the moment, moving back into his own space on the sofa as someone else counted down the final seconds and Leah picked up the cue.
“I don’t know about you, Marc, but Mason and Owen have really inspired me to get back out into the garden,” she enthused.
“Same here,” Marc said. “My local garden centre must be getting sick of the sight of me!” They both laughed at the unlikeliness of that.
Leah looked back to the autocue. “Lots of you have been getting in touch to tell us how inspired you’ve been—and sharing your own gardening pictures online. Let’s take a look at some of them.”
The screen below the autocue began to flash up a series of images from Instagram and Twitter, complete with emojis and hashtags. Ordinary, smiling people in their gardens: a woman pruning a bushy shrub, a little boy pretending to dig with a huge spade, a man with a plant pot on his head pulling a silly face. Eventually, the screen returned to Leah.
“Amazing pictures!” she gushed. “And we’re absolutely delighted to have Mason Nash and Owen Hunter, our gardening hotties, with us on the couch today.” She swept an arm in their direction. “Welcome to you both!” A few crew members duly cheered as the cameras switched to them.
Mason flashed his best million-dollar smile. “It’s so great to be here—in the studio, where it’s warm!”
They all duly laughed, but when Mason glanced at Owen, he seemed unable to manage more than a vague grimace.
There was a brief silence. Then Marc turned to Mason. “So, Mason. I know you’re a big Instagram star—what do you think of our viewers’ pictures?”
Mason grabbed the cue gratefully and began wittering on about the pictures, mentioning one or two of them and making a couple of gentle jokes that got a few chuckles from the crew.
When he was done, Leah turned to Owen. “It must be rewarding for you, Owen, as a gardener? Seeing our viewers so inspired by what you and Mason are doing?”