They spent half the night hashing it over. They came up with wild plans of tracking down somebody else who could see Ben, of somehow proving to Dylan that Jason’s story was true, but they knew all along those were fantasies. In the end, they had only one real option.

“It’ll never work,” Ben said. “You’ll never convince him to leave without you.”

“I think I can. I know him pretty well.”

“He loves you.”

“Maybe, in his own way. But as much as he wants to help me, he’s absolutely serious about his career. And he has to be back in LA by Wednesday morning. That’s our ace in the hole.”

“But he’s already said he’ll cancel.”

“I know what he said, but believe me, canceling is a bad idea, and he knows it.” Dylan was undoubtedly already wondering if he couldn’t help Jason and meet his acting obligation rather than having to choose one over the other. “All I have to do is convince him that I’ve come to my senses.”

“Convince him that you’ve suddenly stopped believing in me, you mean,” Ben said, his voice unsteady.

It hurt to even contemplate. Jason saw the hesitation and the doubt in Ben’s eyes, but what else could they do?

“It’s only acting,” Jason assured Ben. “I’ve been doing it since I was nine.”

But unlike every acting job he’d ever had, he had no script. He had no way of knowing how the other character in his farce would react. He was playing the most important role of his life to a one-man audience, and no matter how he looked at it—no matter how he saw the scene unfolding in his brain—two things remained certain: he couldn’t do it with Ben watching, and he had to keep the globe out of sight lest Dylan try to take it from him.

At four o’clock in the morning, while Dylan slept soundly in the bedroom next door, Jason snuck up the stairs to the attic. He stashed the globe in the corner of the room, tucked behind some of his unpacked boxes, deep in the shadows. Ben would be confined to the empty room, but at least he’d have access to a window. Jason hated to leave him alone, without even a radio, but he couldn’t risk drawing attention to the attic.

“Don’t worry,” Ben said, taking his turn at reassurances. “I’ve spent plenty of time in empty rooms. A couple more days won’t hurt.”

Jason knew it was true, and yet he saw the darkness in Ben’s eyes. He thought again of Ben’s explanation of walking in and out of the shadow of madness. If Jason abandoned him now, he may as well turn off the sun.

That wasn’t going to happen. As long as Jason could keep Dylan from searching the house for the globe, they’d be back to their normal life in no time.

Or so Jason hoped.

He climbed back into bed and snuggled into the warm familiarity of his sheets, going over his lines in his head. Planning his scenes. Double-checking his pacing.

Somehow, he managed to sleep.

He woke shortly before nine, coming instantly awake in that way he always did when he had a scene to shoot. No cameras this time. No retakes. No counting on the editors to patch things up at the end. This would be just him and Dylan, and he had to make it count.

Jason’s formal training had been spotty, but he knew his own methods. He’d learned over the years that he relied on a combination of sense memory and substitution. Whatever the instructors and the purists called it, he thought of it only as swallowing himself whole. Letting “Jason” fall to some small, abandoned place to wait in the dark while a new person wore his skin.

What must he feel?

Shame.

Despair.

Embarrassment and self-reproach.

He sat on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands. He concentrated on his breathing, keeping it ragged and uneven. He thought about all the failed acting jobs he’d had. All the roles he’d been denied. All the times he’d looked up at the checkout line to find his own face staring back at him from the tabloids. He thought of the lunacy they tried to pin on him, and he pulled it around himself and breathed it deep, letting it fill his lungs and work its way slowly through his veins until his fingers tingled with it. He thought of Ben’s loneliness in the globe while trying his best not to think about Ben. He thought of those weeks or months or years in the dark. He wallowed in the seeming eons of silence. In the surety of looming madness.

And finally, when tears burned behind his eyes, he dragged up Andrew’s death—not quite as it had actually been, all flashing lights and loud voices—but the way it had felt. The horror of his lover lying dead. The knowledge that he was on that same path. The shame of wondering whether he was the one who should have died. He doubled over, fighting the sob that burned in his chest.

This was his role.

He nurtured it, urging it to grow until it filled every inch of him. He messed up his hair as he fought to keep the darkness intact but contained. He rubbed at his eyes, needing them to be red and swollen. He glanced down at his hands and swallowed the satisfaction that rose up when he saw the way they shook. There’d be time for self-congratulation later. For now, there was only this. This emptiness. This sorrow. This memory of resounding silence and heartbreaking loneliness. There was only the certainty of loss and the fear of madness. He gathered it all, mentally pulling it in and wadding it up despite its bulk, cramming it into a space that was much too small to hold it for long.

He’d cut that all loose when the time came.

But not yet.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself in this dark mental place, feeling the power of that storm locked away inside, and he went slowly, painfully down the stairs.

He found Dylan in the dining room, his cell phone at his ear. “I don’t know,” Dylan said, his voice low and taut with frustration. “I’m not saying I won’t be there. I’m just asking, how tight is the timeline? Is there any chance of delaying it, even by a day?” Silence, while Dylan listened to the response, and then a sigh. “Okay. I understand.”

This was exactly what Jason needed, but he slammed the door on it. He didn’t allow any hope to enter the dark place he’d created for himself. He closed his eyes, focused on his unsteady breath and his aching heart. He examined the anguish and rage bottled up in his chest, sounding its depth like some ancient mariner, reaching in fear for the murky bottom of the sea.

It was enough.

“I’ll know more in a couple of hours,” Dylan said. “Don’t say anything quite yet.”

Dylan hung up and turned toward the door, and Jason knew instinctively that was his cue to step into the room.

“Hey.” Dylan spoke gently, as if to a terrified child. “How’re you feeling?”

Not yet. Don’t let it out yet. Let the pressure build. Feel it pushing higher up your throat. “I’m better,” Jason choked out, and the words tasted like a lie, exactly as he needed them to.

“Did you sleep?”

“I tried.” The storm rose higher, raging against his temples, and he put his face in his hands, trying to keep it in. Just a bit longer. Just a little bit more.

“Jason?”

“Dylan, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry for anything. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I’m so scared.”

“I know you are. I know how hard it’s been, but I can help you fix this. I swear to you, we can make it okay again.”

“Dylan, I . . .” It was close now, almost at the point where he couldn’t keep it back. Fighting it was an honest-to-God struggle. “I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

“Do you mean . . . do you mean Ben?”

Jason nodded, or shook his head. He couldn’t be sure which. He only knew that it felt like defeat. It felt like drowning.

It felt absolutely perfect.

“Jesus, Dylan, what’s happening to me?”

“You’ve been alone too long.”

“But he was real. Oh God, I swear he was real. He has to be real!”

“Jason, honey. No. He was only in your head.”

Jason took a deep breath, felt the walls crumbling under the weight of his grief, and he crumpled with them. He let the wave push him under. He fell forward, wrenched almost in half by the pain of admitting it, and was both relieved and gratified when Dylan caught him and pulled him into his arms. “Jason—”

“Oh God!” And now it was on him, the entire storm raging in his chest, battering at his throat, sending a torrent of liquid pain from his sore, swollen eyes, and he threw himself into it. He let the tempest have him. He clung to Dylan and let the sobs wrack through his body. “Oh God, Dylan, it felt so real! How could it feel so real?”

“It’s how we protect ourselves. It’s what you needed. But you have to let it go now. You see that, don’t you? You see that you have to let this fantasy go?”

“Yes,” Jason cried, nodding into Dylan’s shoulder. “Yes. Oh God, what’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all. You need some time, that’s all.”

He let Dylan pull him down to the floor because Dylan could no longer hold his weight. Dylan held him tight, whispering reassurance, and Jason wallowed in it. He let the undertow pull him out to sea. Sometimes he fought it. Sometimes he didn’t. All the while, he huddled here in the comfort of his friend’s embrace, letting the storm abate. Not too fast, though. Not too soon. It had to run a natural course. He pictured the beach slowly coming closer. He struggled to shore and watched the waves wash out to sea, leaving wreckage behind on the sand.

Yes, this was the role. This was his character’s turning point. The despair and the loss would naturally ease out of the way, but they had to leave something new. He needed now to put those pieces of flotsam together. To build that slow bridge to embarrassment, and then to something that looked like recovery. “I feel like such a fool. I can’t believe—”

“Shh. Don’t, Jase. Don’t punish yourself on top of everything else.”

“I don’t know how it even started. I don’t know how I ever let it get so big.”

“It’s okay. It doesn’t matter how it started. It only matters that it’s ended.”

Jason nodded. “It has,” he choked. “It was hard to admit, but I know now . . . I know it was all a dream.”

Dylan’s shoulders tensed beneath Jason’s cheek. Jason felt the sudden tension in the arms that held him and knew Dylan was working his way around to a new angle. “And the globe?” Dylan asked.

“I threw it away.”

“When?”

“In the night. I put it in the compactor—”

Dylan started to break away, and Jason knew he intended to see the globe for himself. He grabbed Dylan, not bothering to mask his panic and his desperation. “No! Please. I buried it on the bottom. I ran the compactor and I heard it break.” He shuddered, letting another ragged sob tear free, and Dylan sank back to his original spot, letting Jason nestle into his embrace. “I can’t see it,” Jason cried. “I don’t want to see it. Please. I’d rather pretend it never existed.”

“Okay, JayWalk. Okay.” Dylan rubbed his back and kissed the top of his head. “I’m so sorry it had to be like this. I know it hurts right now, but it’s for the best. You know that, right?”

Jason nodded. “I do.”

“In a month or two, you’ll have forgotten all about this.”

“Oh God,” Jason said, letting himself laugh through the tears. “I hope it doesn’t take that long.”

“Maybe it won’t. You’re doing the right thing though, I promise.”

“I wish it didn’t hurt so much. I don’t know how I let it get so out of control.”

“You were lonely.”

“I guess.” But this was where he had to push things. He had to turn Dylan away from the idea of this being about loneliness. Otherwise, how could he ever convince Dylan to leave and abandon him again to solitude? “I don’t know, Dylan. I think it was more about boredom, to be honest. And feeling like I wasn’t good enough for anything.”

“Being out here all by yourself isn’t helping, though. I think you should consider selling this house.”

Jason shook his head. “It’s not the house. I know you don’t believe me, and I don’t blame you. But I see it now. It’s more about me. About feeling like my life is over. I think . . . I need to stop being afraid to even go to the grocery store. I need to stop feeling like I’m useless.” And even though he’d thought of this as a role, he couldn’t help but wonder if it were true. “I need to trust that whatever path I’m on, it’ll work out in the end.”

“That all sounds good, Jason, but being out here by yourself—”

“I’ll check in with Natalie and tell her to send every script she can get her hands on. Maybe I can land a couple of parts, even if they’re shit. But in the meantime, maybe I just need to get outside. Like you said, a bit of sunshine would do me good. Maybe hiding like some kind of criminal is the problem rather than the solution.”

“That all makes perfect sense. I think you’re on the right track.”

“Me too.” Jason hesitated, feeling hopeful. He didn’t want to push his luck, but his instincts told him he should aim for laughter now. “Maybe I should take up sailing?”

“Why sailing?”

“It looks like fun.”

“In the Caribbean, maybe. But in Idaho, in the middle of winter? Brrr.”

“Hunting?” Jason suggested, letting a smile creep into his voice.

“You don’t even step on spiders. Now you’re gonna shoot Bambi?” Dylan shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“I could start jogging again.”

“Again?” Dylan asked, incredulous. “Since when do you jog?”

“Always.”

“I’ve never seen you jog.”

“Shows how much attention you pay. I jog at least twice a year.”

Dylan’s laugh was bright and full of relief, and Jason knew they were on the right track. This was the way they’d bantered for years. Now he needed only to let this moment ease Dylan into a sense of normalcy.

“I figure at this rate, I’ll be ready for a 5k by the time I’m fifty.”

“Sounds like a foolproof plan.”

Jason wiped his cheeks and pulled away to meet Dylan’s gaze. This part was easy. This part was hardly a role at all. “Let’s go somewhere. Just for the day.”

“Okay. Where do you want to go?”

“Hmm . . .” Jason pretended to ponder, but really, he already had a plan. He’d thought about it the night before and come up with the perfect activity to take them out of the house, to get them moving and laughing, but without putting too much emphasis on conversation. “Well, we can go out for breakfast first, and then . . . Oh, I know! Let’s go skiing.”

“Skiing? Are you crazy?”

“Why not? Come on. It’ll be fun.”

“Do you have a hat and gloves I can borrow?”

“I’m sure we can find something.”

“What about ski pants?”

“We’ll buy some on the way.”

“Is there a ski resort anywhere in the area?”

“Several, actually.” He leaned a bit closer and lowered his eyelashes, pushing flirtatiously against him, falling back on what had always worked with Dylan. “Please?”

And Dylan smiled, exactly as Jason had expected. It was as if he’d read the script too. “I think skiing’s a great idea.”

They ate a quick breakfast at a local diner, hit a sporting goods store on the way out of town so Dylan could buy gear, then drove fifty-odd miles to Lookout Pass. Jason had worried that Dylan would want to talk about what had happened, or about the globe, or about taking Jason back to Hollywood, but they mostly discussed Summer Camp Nightmare 4, and the possibility of working together again. No, Dylan wouldn’t be playing Jason’s love interest as he had in Jason’s traitorous dream a few weeks earlier, but they’d be on set at the same time often, which Jason always enjoyed. He and Dylan made a good team on-camera, and they always managed to have fun, regardless of everything else. By the time they reached the resort, Jason was almost ready to accept the part without even reading the script.

The question was, what that would mean for Ben? Taking the globe with him now seemed impossible. But leaving Ben behind was even worse.

It was something he dared not ponder for long, lest he somehow betray himself to Dylan. He had to convince Dylan that he was back to his old self, and that meant not dwelling on magically imprisoned men.

They bought half-day passes. It was late in the day by skier standards, but it hardly mattered. In Jason’s opinion, it was perfect. The crowds were beginning to clear as the morning skiers quit for the day, leaving the lift lines far shorter than they might have been. It was cold, but not windy. The sun threw blinding reflections off the snow, and the invigorating spray of powder on his cheeks as he followed Dylan down the first small hill left him exhilarated.

“This was a good idea!” Dylan called to him as they reached the bottom of the slope.

“Told you.” In fact right at that moment, Jason wasn’t sure why he didn’t go skiing every single weekend. It was fun, it was good exercise, and bundled up in his coat and hat and sunglasses, nobody would ever recognize him.

They did one more easy run to get warmed up, then boarded the lift again, their skis dangling heavily beneath them, pulling them forward on the narrow seat as the lift took them to the summit. “I hate it when they don’t have bars,” Jason grumbled.

“Just don’t look down.”

Jason’s mother had once told him the same thing, when he’d been barely eight years old. He’d ridden every lift that day with his head tilted back, staring up at the sky. He’d ended up with a cramp in his neck and one hell of a sunburn on the exposed part of his face. “I think I’ll risk the vertigo.”

“Suit yourself.”

This time down the hill, Jason went first, leaving Dylan to catch up. The chilled air whistled in his ears, punctuated by the sshhh-sshh of his skis cutting the powder as he flew down the slope. He leaned heavily into the turns, pushing himself to go faster without losing control. His cheeks, nose, fingers, and toes burned with cold, but his heart was racing, his core warm and strong, and he finished the run laughing, feeling like he’d been born with boards strapped to his feet. He turned to find Dylan still midway up the slope, and he laughed again.

If only he could bring Ben here. He could imagine Ben bumping down the bunny hill, laughing the whole way, his nose and cheeks rosy red from the cold.

If only.

Dylan waved at him, now only a few yards up the slope, and Jason crushed the thought of Ben, cramming it into that place inside where he dared not look while performing.

“You trying to lose me?” Dylan laughed as he finally banked to a stop two feet away. “You were flying.”

“It felt good.”

“You’re a lunatic. Everybody on the slope was backing away in fear.”

“You’re just jealous ’cause I kicked your ass.”

“Maybe.” Dylan’s right hand strayed toward his zippered coat pocket, where Jason knew he’d stashed his cell phone. Jason suspected he was thinking about his upcoming part, and about how if he was going to cancel, he needed to do it soon. Dylan glanced up into the blinding blue above them, the sun halfway down the dome of the sky, throwing long shadows off the lifts and trees onto the snow.

“One more,” Jason said. “Then we can stop for a drink and see how we feel.”

“Sounds good.”

Jason led the way to the lift line, and they shuffled in, side by side. Jason glanced sideways at Dylan, trying to judge the best time to broach the topic. It was clear the entire thing was eating at Dylan but he was afraid to bring it up. Jason decided it’d have to be up to him, and there was no point in waiting. “When’s the shoot?”

Dylan winced and took off his glove to rub the back of his neck. “Wednesday morning. Six a.m.”

“So you need to leave tomorrow?”

“My flight’s booked for four.” He shook his head. “I can cancel—”

“No, don’t be stupid. I know how hard it is to land roles at all. The last thing you want to do is get blacklisted by some casting agent.”

Dylan sighed as they scooted to the front of the line. “You’re right, but—”

“You’re up!” the lift operator yelled at them.

They fell silent as they moved into place. Jason waited until the chair had scooped them up from behind before readdressing the matter at hand. “It’s bad form to back out this late. We both know something like that could ruin you.” It sounded melodramatic, but it was true. It all depended on who was involved, and who those people knew. Piss off one director or one casting agent with serious pull, and you may as well hang it up and move to middle America to become a high school drama teacher. “I mean it. Don’t cancel. I’ll feel terrible if you lose the part because of me.”

“Okay.” Only one word, but Jason heard the relief in Dylan’s voice. “If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

“I’d still like you to come with me.”

Jason debated, doing his best to act torn. The lift was sloping down toward the unloading point at the top of the hill, and Jason wanted to time his response just right, so that they’d be out of time for discussion. He waited until half a second before their skis hit the snow to say, “Let me see how I feel tomorrow.”

They finished the run, Jason out in front again, feeling as spectacular as before. He regretted his promise that they’d stop for a drink, but he also knew Dylan wanted to check in with his agent and let her know he’d be there for the shoot.

Midway through the first drink, they were spotted by two women who asked for autographs. Dylan couldn’t help but flirt and look for hookups wherever they might present themselves, even though he knew Jason preferred to go unseen. Still, Jason knew right off the bat Dylan would be disappointed in that regard. Both women were married, and although they were clearly thrilled to rub elbows with two pseudo stars, neither was the groupie type, and they graciously excused themselves after finishing their drinks, leaving Dylan and Jason to themselves.

“We have time for one more run before the lifts close,” Jason said before Dylan could order another drink.

“One more,” Dylan agreed.

Jason was glad for the final hill, even if the alcohol had taken its toll on his agility. What had felt like natural grace and talent on the previous slopes turned to sloppiness, and he landed on his ass twice before forcing himself to slow down. It was to Dylan’s credit that he only laughed a little bit.

Finally, feeling loose-limbed and pleasingly exhausted, Jason climbed into the passenger seat of Dylan’s rental car. They stopped at the first pizza joint they came to and put away a medium, then began the drive home. Muscle fatigue from the slopes combined with a full stomach hit him hard, and Jason found himself nodding off before they’d gone more than a mile. He nestled into the corner where the seat met the door, resting his head on the shoulder belt, trying to figure out why he felt so tired. By the time he remembered he’d had too little sleep over the last two nights, he was waking up in his driveway. “Wha’ happened?” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

“You fell asleep. And you snore.”

Jason counted himself lucky he hadn’t been drooling. “So do you.”

“Yeah, but I’m cute when I do it.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

He dragged himself upstairs and took a long, hot shower, letting the water soothe his tired muscles. He wasn’t in terrible shape, but he wasn’t exactly an athlete either, and he knew he’d be sore in the morning. Still, he felt good.

He toweled off and ran a comb through his hair, then dressed in underwear, pajama pants, and a T-shirt. He was opening his sock drawer when Dylan spoke from the doorway behind him.

“You look better. Less like a zombie extra for The Walking Dead, at any rate.”

Jason laughed without turning around. “I love your backhanded compliments.”

“I know you do. You going to shave?”

Jason rubbed his hand over his whiskered cheek. It was true, he’d let it go longer than usual, but he liked having a bit of a beard. It made it harder for people to recognize him. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

“You might want to reconsider.”

“You don’t like it?”

“You look like a caveman.”

Jason laughed. “Maybe I’ll leave it just to annoy you.”

“You like doing that, don’t you?”

It was one of those questions that seemed to dare Jason to say how he really felt, and as he pulled on a pair of socks, he debated how he was supposed to answer. No, he didn’t like annoying Dylan. In fact, he’d spent ten years doing everything he could to please him, but this banter was part of their relationship. It was how they kept things casual. “More than anything,” he said at last. “It’s all I live for.”

“Hmmm.” Dylan wrapped his arms around Jason’s waist from behind. Jason hadn’t even heard him cross the room, and now here he was, solid and warm against Jason’s back. “I like it that way, to tell you the truth. Keeps things interesting.”

“Then it’s decided: I’m keeping the beard.”

“Good idea.”

“You just said I look like a caveman.”

“You do. It’s sexy as hell.”

“Do you mean that, or are you trying to use reverse psychology on me so I’ll shave it?”

“A little bit of both.” Dylan’s embrace turned into a caress, his hand moving up Jason’s stomach. His lips brushed Jason’s ear. “You know I’d do anything for you, right?” he asked, his voice low, his joking tone gone.

“I do.”

“You know I love you.”

“I know.” In his own way, it was probably true.

“No more excuses, Jason. Come to bed with me. Please.”

Jason’s heart burst into action. He was glad Dylan couldn’t see his face, because he would have seen his panic. In his determination to convince Dylan he was okay, he’d forgotten this very key factor: with Ben dismissed as pure fantasy, he had no reasonable excuse to not sleep with Dylan. And while logic dictated that he could always say no, it was something he’d never done before. Not in the entire ten years of their “friends with benefits” history. Even when he’d been seeing Andrew, Dylan had been welcomed by them both into their shared bed. How could he possibly act as if he was back to normal if he declined the most normal part of their relationship?

Whatever he decided, he had to decide fast, too. Any hesitation would put his whole plan in jeopardy.

“Jase? Are you all right?”

And in a heartbeat, Jason came to a single conclusion: he was still acting. This was still a role. And sometimes, that role demanded intimacy. Or, to be more accurate, it demanded the illusion of intimacy. He’d made out with women on camera. He’d feigned intercourse. This was no different, except that his costar was also his audience. But now as ever, the timeless rule of the stage held true.

The show must go on.

“I’m fine.” He turned in Dylan’s embrace. “I’m just really glad you’re here.”

He pulled Dylan to him, letting Dylan kiss him as he had so many times in the past. Jason tilted his head back. He parted his lips and let Dylan in. He paid particular attention to the placement of his hands, to how he needed to move them on Dylan’s body to keep this charade going. And the entire time, his mind churned through the ways he might bring the scene to a close before it reached its obvious culmination. What excuse could he possibly offer?

He couldn’t think of a single thing.

Dylan turned them toward the bed, and Jason went, letting himself be led. He let Dylan lower him onto it. He’d always reveled in this before—in the weight of his lover’s body on top of his. In the ways they could move together to maximize their pleasure even when all they were doing was kissing—but now, he thought only of the performance. How must he behave? Yes, he’d acted in sex scenes before, but not with Dylan. Sex with Dylan had always been genuine, his actions guided by desire and passion. He’d certainly never examined their evenings together to see exactly how he behaved so he could mimic it later.

An unfortunate oversight, but who could have foreseen this predicament?

He concentrated on Dylan. On the feel of his lover’s lips on his neck, trying to compare their actions to all their other encounters. This was a bit more foreplay than they usually engaged in. He reminded himself to moan. He tugged impatiently at Dylan’s shirt, pulling it off so he could put his hands on Dylan’s bare flesh. Dylan followed suit, removing Jason’s shirt before leaning over to kiss his chest, and still Jason floundered. How could he stop this before it went too far?

No excuse came to him. Saying he didn’t feel good would be an obvious lie after the day they’d had. Saying he was tired wouldn’t be enough. Dylan would laughingly tell him to be as lazy as he wanted. “Just lie back, then,” Dylan would say. “I’ll do all the work.” And he would, too. He wouldn’t mind that one bit.

Dylan moved slowly down Jason’s stomach, his tongue leaving a cool wet trail around his navel. Jason wished the director would yell, “Cut!” but it wasn’t going to happen. He longed for the phone to ring, or even the doorbell to buzz, but the universe didn’t comply.

He had to stop this, one way or another.

He’d have to rely on his supposedly fragile mental state. He’d have to make it about this morning—about the snow globe, and his delusions. The question was, could he use that excuse to stop their sexual activity without making Dylan suspicious? He’d played his role perfectly in the dining room that morning. That combined with the skiing had lulled Dylan into believing everything was back to normal. Could Jason raise the specter of his mental instability now in order to avoid sex without undoing everything he’d accomplished?

No. He didn’t see how. Saying he was still upset about the globe would undoubtedly lead to Dylan insisting that Jason go with him back to Hollywood. So what other excuse could Jason offer? There was absolutely nothing. And as Dylan began undoing the tie on Jason’s pajama pants, Jason realized his only option was to let this scene play out. It felt horrible. Villainous even, but it was the only possibility. Anything else would make Dylan suspicious. Anything else would increase the odds of Dylan trying to take Jason away with him. And if he had to see this through, that meant—

“Uhh, Houston,” Dylan said suddenly, interrupting his thoughts. “We have a problem.”

“What?” Jason asked, hoping he sounded sufficiently breathless and aroused. His fingers were tangled in Dylan’s hair. He was sure he’d been moaning at the right time, moving his hips the way he should. “What’s wrong?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing.”

“What do you mean? Nothing’s wr—” But then it hit him.

Shooting a sex scene was always awkward. No matter how many times actors or actresses said, “Oh, it was great. My costar made me feel so safe,” everybody knew it was a lie. Closed set or not, when the film started to roll, there were always an awful lot of people in the bedroom.

Of course for men, there was the added anxiety of not knowing how their penis would behave. And when it came to popping wood during a sex scene, a man could be either damned if he did or damned if he didn't. The common advice given by men in Hollywood was to apologize to your costar before the scene began by saying, “I’m sorry if I do, and I’m sorry if I don’t.” But as a guy, it was hard to know what to hope for, and even harder to ensure that the desired outcome was achieved. No matter which way the people involved wanted things to go, there was no guarantee the little dude downstairs would cooperate. More often than not, that particular piece of anatomy really did seem to have a mind of its own. That was both Jason’s downfall and his saving grace. Yes, he could act. He could feign interest and desire and arousal. But only up to a point. After that, it was all down to biology.

And in this case, biology wasn’t on his side.

Or maybe it was.

It kind of depended on how he looked at it.

“I’m sorry,” Jason stammered, not having to feign surprise. “I don’t know what happened. Maybe I just need more time—”

“Oh, honey,” Dylan sighed. He put his forehead against Jason’s bare stomach. “No. I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? I’m the one who can’t get it up.”

“This is my fault. I know how hard this day has been on you. I thought it would help you relax, but all I really did was put pressure on you.”

Jason bit back his laugh and swallowed the smile that threatened to blossom on his lips. He ran his fingers slowly through Dylan’s hair, debating his options. Convincing Dylan he was still okay without encouraging him to redouble his efforts was like walking a tightrope. “They say it happens to everybody.”

Dylan chuckled. “Yeah, I’ve heard that too, but I’ve never quite believed it.”

“I guess I’m a bit distracted. And I took one of those sleeping pills when I got out of the shower.” It was a lie—he’d hidden them all in the drawer of his bedside table—but it seemed like a good excuse.

Dylan moved up again so they were face-to-face. “I suppose that isn’t helping any.”

“No.” But Jason could feel Dylan’s erection against his hip. He slid his hand toward it. “I could still take care of you if you want.”

It was a gamble, but one that felt fairly safe. Dylan may have been loose with his affections, jumping into bed with whoever was willing, but he wasn’t selfish once he got there. On the contrary, he was the most generous lover Jason had ever had. He always gave more than he took. The simple truth was, Dylan liked inspiring passion. He got off on getting others off, and so Jason wasn’t surprised when Dylan caught his wrist.

“No.” He kissed Jason sweetly. “No, I should let you sleep.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He rolled off of Jason, but didn’t move far. He kept his hand on Jason’s stomach. “Can I at least stay in here with you? I’ll sleep in the other room if you want, but I’d rather not.”

“Of course you can stay.” In fact, he was glad for it. Dylan wasn’t the type to wake him for sex in the middle of the night. As long as Jason woke up and got out of bed before Dylan—and that was unlikely to be a problem, given their usual sleeping patterns—he could avoid any more sexual awkwardness.

And lying side by side with his best friend in the world wasn’t a bad way to end the night.

Jason’s luck was with him, and he woke before Dylan the next day. He used the downstairs bathroom to shower and shave, so as not to wake him. The longer Dylan slept, the fewer sexual advances Jason would have to deal with.

It was nearly eleven when he finally heard Dylan stir upstairs. Jason didn’t want to somehow wind up in the bedroom with him again, so he went to the kitchen and made himself a cup of coffee as slowly as he could. He was just pulling the steaming mug from the machine when Dylan appeared.

“There you are,” Dylan said. “You’re such a morning person. I’ll never get used to it.”

“I’m not sure getting up at nine qualifies as a ‘morning person.’”

“Close enough.” He leaned his hip against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “You shaved.”

“Yep. I also made you coffee.”

Dylan took the cup but set it aside. He advanced on Jason, backing him into the corner, and leaned close to kiss his jaw. “No more caveman.”

“Consider it your Christmas present.”

“Christmas is still a month away.”

“I’m getting a head start.”

“Hmm.” Dylan kissed his cheek again, letting his lips linger over Jason’s ear, making Jason shiver. “Will you grow it out again for my birthday? I’m kind of liking the idea of caveman sex.”

“We’ll see.” But this wasn’t how Jason wanted their morning to go. He needed to point Dylan away from intimacy and back toward Hollywood. “You’re going to be strapped for time if you want to eat before you leave for the airport. You want a bagel? I have lox.”

Dylan groaned just as Jason had expected. He stepped away to grab his coffee. “Who the hell decided fish was a breakfast food? It had to be the Brits.”

“I don’t know about lox, but I do remember a surprising number of cold cuts for breakfast when I visited England. You want cold cuts?”

“I’m an American.”

“So you want French toast?”

“No, smartass. I want steak and eggs. Or maybe bacon and eggs.” He sipped at his coffee, considering. “I’ll settle for ham and eggs if that’s all you’ve got.”

“What I’ve got is bagels and lox.”

“Then suit up, Captain America, ’cause we’re going out for breakfast.”

Jason smiled, pleased that the conversation had gone exactly as he’d hoped. “I’ll buy.”

“You sure as hell will.”

The restaurant was in town, midway between Jason’s house and the airport, so Dylan packed his bags and took them with him. They took separate cars, knowing they’d have to say good-bye after breakfast. It wasn’t until they were sequestered in a back booth, their steak and eggs in front of them, that the awkward topic arose.

“Come with me, Jason.”

Jason laughed, as if the request was a joke. “What, like this? I didn’t even pack a bag.”

“I’ll wait for you at the airport.”

“There’s not enough time.”

“I’ll change my flight.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t—”

“Jason, please. Let me take you home.”

The smile fell from Jason’s face. He couldn’t push too hard, but there was no way he was following Dylan back to Hollywood. “This is my home. I don’t want to go back to LA. Not right now, at least.”

“Eventually?”

“For work? Maybe. To stay? I don’t think so.”

“Jason, I’m worried. I don’t think I should leave you like this.”

“I know I freaked you out.” Jason laughed uncomfortably and rubbed the back of his neck. “I freaked myself out if you want to know the truth. But I’m fine. I really am.”

“Just like that?”

Jason winced. Yes, this was the hard part. Having supposedly descended into utter madness, how did he go about convincing Dylan that he’d recovered in a day? He shoved eggs around his plate, mixing them with his hash browns. “I’ll find a therapist if it’ll make you feel better. I’ll get out of the house for at least an hour every day, I promise. You can call me whenever you want to check in.”

“Will you call Natalie?”

“To ask for more parts?”

“Yes. And to accept the offer you already have on the table?”

“You really want to do Summer Camp Nightmare 4? Are you seriously that anxious for me to revive that pathetic role?”

Dylan didn’t laugh. He set his fork aside and leaned back in his seat to pin Jason with a withering stare. “You won’t come away with me now. Fine. But I want a guarantee that you’ll get away from that damn house eventually. The movie gives me that.” He shrugged, as if trying to convince himself it was nothing. “Besides, it’ll be fun. I like when we get to work together. You know we’ll have a good time.”

“Can I at least read the script first?”

“Why bother? You know what happens. Horny coeds. Lots of running and screaming. People die horrible deaths. The usual shtick.”

“Do I die?”

“No. You, my friend, emerge as the hero, wounded but not beaten.” He held up his fork triumphantly. “Ready to do it all again in Summer Camp Nightmare 5.”

“Not a chance in hell.”

Dylan laughed and stabbed a piece of steak. “I’ll deal with chapter five later. Right now, I’m worried about part four.” He pointed the loaded utensil at Jason. “Say you’ll do it, or I’ll tell every reporter in Hollywood where you live.”

“You wouldn’t.”

Dylan grinned. “Try me.” He stuck the steak in his mouth and chewed happily, obviously sure he’d won, and Jason couldn’t help but laugh.

“Promise you won’t try to set me up with any women this time. I don’t care how horny you think they are.”

“I promise.”

“Okay,” he relented, wondering if he’d make a liar of himself later. “I’ll take the part.”

“Excellent,” Dylan said, tossing his napkin onto his plate. “Then it seems my work here is done.”

They finished their breakfast, and then it was time for a stilted good-bye in the parking lot. Snow fell listlessly around them, not sticking to anything, but determined to try. The gray sky hung low, a stark contrast to Jason’s current mood. He’d never been so happy to see Dylan leave.

“Promise me one more time,” Dylan said, leaning back against the bumper of his rental car.

It was hard to say exactly which promise Dylan wanted him to repeat, so Jason recited them all. “I’ll get out of the house. I’ll call Natalie. I’ll take the part. I won’t lose my grip on reality again.”

Dylan winced, but didn’t smile. “I’ll call tonight when I get home. And probably tomorrow too. And probably the day after that.”

“You don’t need to. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m doing it anyway.”

“All right. I appreciate it.”

“You can call me anytime, and I’ll be here as fast as I can.”

“I know. But like I said before: I’ll be fine.”

“Okay.” Dylan took a pill bottle out of his pocket and pressed it into Jason’s hand. “They’ll help you sleep. Use them if you need to, but not too much.”

Jason didn’t want them, but he didn’t want to argue either. He stuck them in his pocket. “Thanks.”

Dylan held his hand out, and when Jason shook it, Dylan pulled him close and kissed him on the cheek. “Anytime, JayWalk. Take care.”

He climbed into his car, glancing back once. He was questioning his decision, Jason knew. Wondering if he was doing the right thing. But in the end, he threw Jason one quick wave and drove away.

Somewhere in Jason’s imagination, a director yelled, “Cut! That’s a wrap. Good job, everyone!”

And Jason breathed a sigh of relief.