Chapter Eleven

Izzy

 

He’d never been so nervous prior to a shoot before. There was always the feeling he’d been born to be an actor, and it only grew more resolved when he thought of the spectators.

And meeting fellow actors was part of the gig. Most were fantastic, with a few assholes thrown into the mix. Others, he would gladly work with again if given the opportunity. A few shots were never enough to get to know someone well.

But he’d never had much to lose before. He was one of the stars of the show, and Rowes was always going to be right beside him on that. But here was the guy who was going to be kissing Rowes.

He’d never met a ‘Clarke’ before, but he was certain that it was the worst name in English history. Clarke. It oozed of pure douchebag energy, and the guy had the entitled air of someone who deserved to be there, touching Rowes as if they were friends.

Standing beside Izzy, Rowes seemed so easy and relaxed as he reached for the guy’s hand to shake it, their touch lasting a moment too long for Izzy’s taste. Izzy narrowed his eyes, reaching for Rowes automatically, and slinging an arm over his shoulder.

“This is Isthmus Linton, as you probably already knew,” said Rowes, chuckling as he sent Izzy a grin. Their gazes lingered for only a moment, but Rowes flicked his stare to his lips before he looked away.

It was long enough for Izzy to know exactly what it meant. Rowes wanted to kiss him again, probably more than once. Hopefully.

It was strange to not be weirded out by that fact, but maybe he’d seen it all coming. As soon as he’d realized what their relationship could be, non-sexual had slipped away and buried itself back inside the closet.

“So good to meet you, Isthmus,” said Clarke, clasping his hands together when Izzy made no move to offer a handshake. “I’ve been a huge fan of the show since season one, and it’s super exciting to get the chance to be a part of the project.”

“Yep,” said Izzy, glancing toward the director to see if things looked any closer to being ready. The camera guys appeared prepared, but the set was still way off. The downside of shooting some scenes outside was that the weather always managed to wreak havoc. “It’s great to have budding actors as the fodder. There’s always the opportunity to try out new roles and get some experience.”

Rowes shot him a glare, but Izzy just raised one eyebrow, grinning internally as Clarke seemed to wilt.

“Fodder?” asked Rowes under his breath, giving Clarke a pained smile. “Sorry, Clarke. Isthmus hasn’t had his third cup of coffee this morning so he’s extra grouchy.”

Clarke looked between them, taking a half step back before holding up his hands. “No worries. I didn’t realize you guys were together. I didn’t mean to intrude or anything—just trying to do my job.”

Izzy grunted as Rowes shot an elbow into his ribs. “We aren’t together—not like that, anyway,” said Rowes, the words turning Izzy’s sour mood even darker. “I wanted to meet you, too. I thought I should at least introduce myself to the guy I’m supposed to kiss.”

Gritting his teeth, Izzy moved his hand to the back of Rowes’ neck, letting it rest there. With one move he could tug Rowes’ hair or wrap his fingers around his throat. Dealer’s choice. Rowes paused, giving him a pointed look before letting out a strained laugh.

“Yeah,” said Clarke, scratching the back of his head as his cheeks tinted pink. “It’s gonna be a lot of pressure to kiss a television icon. I hope I’m not too terrible at it.”

Of course, he would be terrible. This guy’s lips were thin, not soft and plush like Rowes’. And he was clean-shaven without any scruff. Everyone knew that kisses were always better if they were a little scratchy. And if he tried to slip Rowes any tongue, Izzy was going to cut it off.

The numbers on Izzy’s watch silently counted toward the day’s expiration as he worked his jaw. The director was still talking to one of the interns, the set looking no closer to completion. At this rate, they wouldn’t get anything done today.

“Well, it was good to meet you,” said Clarke, his gaze lingering on Rowes. “Both of you.”

“Uh-huh—ouch.” Izzy winced as Rowes clamped down on his wrist, turning and half-dragging Izzy across the set. He was sweating beneath his leather jacket, which was much too hot for the summer’s day. But in the movies, fashion always went above comfort.

The set was in a quiet part of town where a few streets had been sectioned off. Most of the buildings were old warehouses, with a few brick ones thrown in. People were few and far between except for fans trying to catch a glimpse or other members of the crew.

Rowes dragged him until they rounded a corner just short of where the trailers were. With most people on set, there was no one in sight, and no windows close by for people to spot them from.

Izzy turned his grip and twined his fingers with Rowes as they came to a stop beyond the edge of shouts of the set crew. “If you wanted to hold hands, you could have just said so.”

Rowes tugged his hand free, shaking his head as he backed away. “You aren’t subtle, you know. There are no less than thirty people over there, and every single one of them just watched you practically maul me in front of Clarke. I’m sure they wouldn’t be surprised if you pissed on me next like some dog trying to stake his claim.”

Good. Then they’ll know who you belong to. Rowes must have been able to read his thoughts or something because his expression darkened.

“It’s not okay, Izzy.” Rowes took another step back when Izzy reached for him. “I love submitting for you and I see now that I’ve been doing it for a long time, but people wouldn’t understand completely. They already think we’re too close, and you’re just pushing that boundary even more.”

“I’ll make them understand,” said Izzy, closing the distance between them and backing Rowes against the closest wall. It was yellow brick and probably scratchy as all hell. There was barely a breath between them, his lips inches away from Rowes’. “Everyone in the world should know that you belong to me.”

Rowes widened his eyes, glancing to the head of the alley where anyone could walk by in a moment. Good. Let them see. “What the fuck, Izzy? You can’t say shit like that here. People are going to think we’re fucking. I mean, what else could that mean to someone that overhears it?”

His lips looked even better than Izzy remembered, the lower one just slightly bruised from their repeated kissing. He’d always been a man who believed in perfection, and he’d insisted they keep kissing until it was absolutely flawless. In truth, the first time Rowes’ lips had touched his had been pure precision, but it had taken a lot of repeats until he was satisfied that it was real and not a figment of his imagination.

“Let them think what they want. It doesn’t change a thing,” said Izzy.

Rowes pushed him away with enough strength that Izzy stumbled back, clutching at his chest where Rowes had dug in with his nails. His face was flushed, his eyes narrowed as he glared at Izzy.

“You are unbelievable. You won’t be happy until you have a collar around my neck and a plug in my ass with your name on it. Take a walk and cool off before I punch you.”

He’d never heard Rowes sound so furious, and he certainly didn’t have a violent bone in his body, but Izzy didn’t doubt him. That didn’t stop Izzy from taking a step in and putting his hand on the wall next to Rowes’ head.

Rowes looked to the side, suddenly blanching as he spotted something over Izzy’s shoulder. When Izzy turned, he caught sight of Lorena at the end of the alley, her arms crossed and a scowl on her lips.

“Everyone is looking for you two. We’re ready to go.” Her eyes narrowed.

“We’ll be there in a minute,” said Izzy, turning back to Rowes. Rowes touched his chest with his hands, but didn’t push him away, his chest heaving as he bit his lower lip.

“Iz,” he whispered softly. “Not here. Please.”

Has he always begged so nicely? He must’ve done it before, when their relationship had been simple and the air wasn’t charged between them like a bunch of firecrackers waiting to go off. Izzy couldn’t remember for the life of him.

Izzy drew back, sending Lorena a bright smile that probably didn’t reach his eyes. It was an expression he’d don for his character when Kemble eyed up a new gang member, already knowing he was going to shoot them in the forehead at the first opportunity.

“Can’t keep the director waiting,” said Izzy, grabbing Rowes’ hand and tugging him away from the wall. “Come on, Rowes.”

He’d never harbored a single negative thought toward Lorena. She was overbearing, but who wasn’t in her type of business? It was her job to make sure everything was perfect, and that included being a hardass when one of them fucked up. But as she shot a glare at Rowes, Izzy narrowed his eyes.

“Is there a problem, Lorena?” Izzy growled, pausing next to her. Rowes’ hand was clammy in his as he followed passively.

“Perhaps,” she said, her face giving nothing away. “Before you two head out today, I’ll need to talk with Rowes. The director wanted to speak with him about something.”

When he glanced back, Rowes looked even paler, his lip between his teeth and his face blanched. He must’ve still been feeling off with his back. Izzy hadn’t given him a repeat massage, but maybe he would have to. It wouldn’t be a hardship.

“Good, let’s go. Rowes, take a seat for a few minutes while we do the first shot. I’ll check in with you before we get to your segment. We should be able to wrap up the episode today, hopefully.” He’d checked on their progress earlier when he’d been going over his script for the scenes.

It wouldn’t be long before they wrapped up the entire season again. Usually by episode eight, they were all exhausted beyond belief, and they didn’t need much makeup to look grubby by number twelve.

Rowes didn’t respond, ducking his head as Izzy led him to the closest chair. Lorena lingered, pulling a juice box from her massive purse before kneeling next to Rowes.

At least she was taking care of him. Maybe she wasn’t so bad after all.