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Jamie rocked in to work on Monday with little more than a nod for Callum and faint shadows under his eyes. Callum could hardly blame him. After the weekend the three of them had enjoyed, he felt exhausted too and without the benefit of youthful recovery. Still, he wanted to check in with Jamie. He knew the hours alone after such a spectacular — and somewhat accidental — date could be difficult, especially on someone new to such adventures.
They didn’t get a chance to talk until lunch. Callum slid in across from Jamie at a table in the studio’s ancient cafeteria and smiled at him. The boy was twisting his napkin into bits; apparently Callum’s concern was not entirely misplaced. Callum was determined to make sure Jamie was okay. And if he wasn’t, figure out how to help him be okay.
“How are you?” he asked, trying not to feel as if he were back in school and having drama with any girl or boy who would let him.
“Not quite in a state to be honest in public?”
Callum frowned. That could mean a lot of things, from emotional distress to pleasurable distraction. “Not bad, I hope?”
Jamie shrugged. “Nah.”
“You’re a terrible liar,” Callum observed mildly.
Jamie squinted up at him. “What makes you say that?”
Callum used the excuse of reaching out to take the poor, abused shreds of napkin out of Jamie’s hands to finally touch him. He’d been aching to all morning. “Happy people don’t destroy the napkins.”
“Clearly you’ve never met my parents’ dog. But I’m okay. I think.”
In this moment Callum hated that they worked together because the deepest reassurance he knew how to give was physical. After all, he was an actor and often only adept with words when other people wrote them. Still, Jamie needed him to try. “Shall we have dinner this week? Just you and me? And then we can talk?” Callum asked. As wonderful as the weekend had been, he wanted to make sure he and Jamie got some time with each other without having to worry about anyone else.
Jamie’s attempt to be brave collapsed. Callum kicked himself as he realized his likely error. Young and uncertain as he was, Jamie thought Nerea didn’t care for him beyond this weekend’s fun.
“Nerea thinks you’re lovely,” he said, voice clear and crisp and insistent. “And you should have dinner with the both of us again and soon. But while having her in town changes things with my schedule — and yours — I want to make sure I set time aside to spend with you on your own. If that’s something you’d like.”
Jamie’s smile returned, albeit a bit sheepishly. “I would like that very much.”
“Good,” Callum said, relieved he’d made Jamie relax and delighted he’d made him happy.
Until Jamie said “Fuck!” and buried his face in his hands.
Callum was alarmed. Had he done something wrong, overlooked something particular that would upset the boy? It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility, but he’d been working hard to handle this affair right. “What is it, darling?” he asked.
Jamie peeped out at Callum from between his fingers at the pet name. Which Callum possibly shouldn’t have used at work, but the young man was so dear it was impossible to keep himself in check.
Jamie removed his hands from his face. “If we get together — assuming Nerea’s going to want your flat to herself — you’ll have to come over to my place.”
“And?”
“And,” Jamie admitted, the tips of his ears flushing red, “my place is kind of a pit.”
* * *
CALLUM SPENT THE REST of the afternoon watching Jamie closely. Jamie was engaged in the work whenever he was actively doing it, but between shots Callum caught the boy worrying his bottom lip between his teeth more than once. That was a new habit and suggested he was working up courage for something. Whatever it was, Callum suspected it was better than his earlier fretting, but beyond that, he had no idea.
Jamie eventually cornered Callum at crafty.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course,” Callum said, trying to project affection just in case this was another round of insecurity. But Jamie didn’t look upset the way he had at lunch, and Callum hoped he would stay that way.
“I’m getting wrapped early today.”
“Now you can go home and clean,” Callum teased. He hoped Jamie would go home and sleep. Eight hours a night was a rare commodity when working on a film, no matter the schedule the union theoretically promised. And, though the three of them had spent all weekend in bed, very little of that time had been spent asleep.
“Would you mind if I went to hang out with Nerea?” Jamie blurted.
“You can do whatever you’d like.” Callum tried to hide his surprise. “So can Nerea.” He didn’t quite know what Jamie was up to but was curious to find out.
“I don’t have her phone number.”
Callum cackled and fished his mobile out of his pocket. Quickly, he thumbed a message to her. The very brave boyfriend I shared with you would like me to share your phone number with him.
The reply came almost immediately. You’re both ridiculous.
Is that a yes? Callum keyed as Jamie shifted his weight from side to side.
Yes, of course. Tell him I eagerly await his call.
Callum smiled to himself. He could hear her every word and knew she was likely as mystified by this request as he was. He hit a few more buttons and Jamie’s mobile chimed.
“Go have fun,” Callum said. “I’ll text one of you when I get out.”
* * *
SHORTLY AFTER EIGHT, Callum unlocked the door to his flat quietly, in case Nerea and Jamie were asleep after whatever they’d gotten up to. But while the lights were on, no one was immediately apparent. The bed was made as neatly as Nerea always kept it. Callum frowned and looked toward the bathroom, but the lights were off and there was no sound of water. Apparently they weren’t indulging themselves with the only decent water pressure in London, either.
“You are both being very confusing,” he muttered as he set down his bag. Then he heard Nerea’s laughter from the passageway to the roof.
Callum went up the first few steps that led to their balcony and stopped once he could see them through the open door. They were dressed for the warm summer evening, Jamie in a T-shirt and shorts and Nerea in a pale blue sundress. It was one of Callum’s favorites that she’d bought years ago in Madrid. Both of them were laughing, easy and carefree. A bottle of wine, mostly empty, on the table between them may have accounted for some of that, but not all of it.
Callum loitered in the doorway, enjoying their happiness from afar until Jamie turned his head and noticed him. His face split into a grin that made Callum want to kiss his dimples. Nerea turned her head too. She smiled with a deep contentment when he stepped through the door and out onto the balcony.
He kissed them both hello, then scraped a third chair up to the wrought-iron table. “Not what I expected to come home to.”
“Callum thought we’d be fucking,” Nerea clarified, popping her consonants.
“We didn’t,” Jamie said.
“You could have,” Callum told him.
Jamie and Nerea sighed in almost perfect synchronicity.
“I know that,” Jamie said. “But I wanted to have a conversation with someone I don’t work with and who isn’t as young and inexperienced as me.”
“And you chose my wife?” Callum chuckled. Nerea was hardly an innocent bystander to the current state of Jamie’s life.
“It was your wife or my landlord.”
“We’ve had a very nice afternoon. And evening,” Nerea said. “And if I don’t eat something soon, I am going to die.” She clutched at her stomach theatrically.
“You could have eaten,” Callum pointed out as mildly as he had suggested just a moment ago that they could have gone to bed without him.
“Yes, but we wanted to get drunk instead.” She reached out and caught Callum’s hand in her own. “Now take us to dinner.”