Page 73 of Sean's Sunshine

Something about seeing the great detective staring at his tennis shoes with the realization of exactly how screwed he’d be if he tried to put them on himself had hit Billy just right.

In a rare moment of vulnerability, Billy confessed his worst fear.

“I’m a whore, Jackson. How can he trust me if I’m a whore?”

“Whoring’s honest work, if an honest man does it,” Jackson had replied.

“Why me? Why’d you send me to come help him?”

“I don’t know. I figured you were ready to get out of the life, and he’d just been dumped in the hospital. I mean, hurt guy, pretty nurse—at the very least I thought you two could become friends.”

And they had. They’d become more than friends. They’d become lovers.

And Billy had fallen in love.

Without invitation—or warning—Billy remembered his first scene filming at Johnnies.

“SO WE’REstarting this one in jeans,” Dex said. “You can fold your other clothes—there’s cubbies behind the camera line here, okay? And we have robes for you guys between takes. You look all freshly scrubbed—did you read the pamphlet I gave you? Eat lots of fiber three days before and nothing but water two days before?”

“Yeah,” Billy replied. He’d blushed on a dime back then, and his face had burned. “All pooped out. No worries.”

Dex was tall, stunningly beautiful, and still innocent looking, although he’d spent ten years in the business himself, and the look he turned to Billy had been kind. “Don’t worry—we won’t ask you to bottom your first time out. But, you know, keeps everything fresh. Like if you were planning on a really exciting date, right?”

Sam had been gone for about three months at this point, and Billy had brightened. “I can pretend,” he said, and Dex nodded and then sobered.

“Try not to get attached,” he said softly. “At least not while filming scenes. A lot of guys—myself included—have hooked up with someone they met in the business and made it work really well. But not during a scene. The scenes are… well, think about it like playing basketball or skateboarding with friends. You’re doing something physical that hopefully you love doing—but you’re not gonna marry any of the guys on the court, right?”

Billy had laughed involuntarily. “God no,” he said with feeling, thinking about his soccer teammates in high school.

“Yeah,” Dex said, and again, that kind look in his eyes. “Sex in here,” he gestured to the faked bedroom beyond the door of the office suite, “isn’t about love, Billy. It’s like those big fiberglass castles at theme parks. We can dress the place up to look like a bedroom and make sure everybody’s having a good time, but at the end of the day, you have to go home and live your life. Have a good time here. Come out your eyeballs and enjoy the fuck out of it. Be friends with the guys you meet—there are some great guys here, and going out to concerts or playing ball or seeing movies is a whole lot of fun with people who know you. But….” He sighed.

“But it’s not love,” Billy said, getting it.

“Not usually,” Dex had agreed, looking relieved.

At that moment, Lance had shown up. They were filming their scene together, and Billy had been thrilled because God, Lance Luna was one of the most beautiful men he’d ever seen. They’d kissed, they’d stroked, they’d fondled, they’d fucked, and they’d come. And when it was done, Lance asked him if he wanted to go eat afterward and then asked him if he needed a place to stay.

But a week later, he was hooking up with another guy from Johnnies, and Lance was too, and he realized he felt nothing more than happiness for his friend and sex for himself.

And he’d gotten it then, what sex was when you were at work as opposed to what he and Sam had been fumbling for when he’d been in Sam’s bed.

And even though he got very proficient at it, very polished, he’d assumed he would never, ever feel that sort of hope in human touch again.

THE MEMORYleft, blown away as though by a desert wind, and Billy found himself on the floor of the spare room, hugging his knees and wiping his wet cheeks on his shoulder.

And he tried to think,Tomorrow I have school. The next day, I have a scene.

And what came out of his mouth was, “I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t I can’t I can’t—”

EVENTUALLY HEmanaged to pull himself up, get his paper, which had long since printed, and set up his schoolwork so he’d be good to go in the morning. He turned off the lights and then roused Sean, gently, to come to bed.

Poppy seemed more than content to curl up on the old folded blanket by the bedstand, and Billy slid behind Sean exhaustedly, making sure to set his phone on his own bedstand with the volume way up because he was really not looking forward to waking up in five hours for school.

When he was finally snuggled up against Sean’s backside, his breathing beginning to settle, Sean tugged his hand—which had been at Sean’s waist—to Sean’s chest and laced their fingers together.

“You sound sad,” he mumbled. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Billy whispered, surprised Sean had noticed. Billy assumed he’d sleepwalked from the couch to the bedroom.