Stars in Your Eyes(11)

“So,” I say, “where’s Dad?”

The brightness in their faces fades a little. “Sitting over here.”

He’s been feet away from them, but he hasn’t bothered to come over to say hello. That’s not surprising. I nod. “Tell him I say hi,” I say, even though he can probably hear me just fine.

My mom’s nod is clipped. “Okay, I will. I have to get back to grading papers, but Mattie—just know we’re all so proud of you.”

“Thanks, Mom. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

She leaves the frame, and from the movement behind my sister and the sly grin on her face, I know she’s leaving the living room for her bedroom for a little more privacy. “So what’s it like acting with Logan Gray?” she asks, voice lowered.

I shrug with a flinch of annoyance—not at her, but at even the mention of the name. That’s the effect he has on me, I guess. “He’s kind of an asshole.”

She grins. “As to be expected. God, have you looked at Twitter recently? Everyone’s eating him alive for what he did to Willow Grace.”

I think Emma feels like I’m a portal into a reality TV episode. Not that I should judge. Real Housewives is a guilty pleasure of mine, too. “You know I try to stay away from all of that. If they’re eating Logan Gray alive, then that means they might eat me alive one day, too.”

“No way. You’re not a jerk like him.” She pauses. “So does that mean you haven’t looked him up?”

“I know who he is, Em.”

“You can’t know everything that’s on his Wiki page.”

“You read his Wiki page?”

“Did you know he’s been to rehab twice? Jesus. I’m amazed they even gave him the role.”

“It feels a little like what they did with Robert Downey Jr.”

“Huh? Who is that?”

Ouch. “I’m not that much older than you. Come on. You know, the guy that plays Iron Man?”

“Oh, him?”

“Yeah. He was basically the resident bad boy of Hollywood, too, and then he was hired on for Marvel, and—anyway, I don’t know. I can’t pretend I know what the studio’s thinking by hiring him.”

“I mean, he is really, really famous. Well, more like infamous.” Emma quirks a single eyebrow, smirk growing. I already know where she’s going with this. “Have you checked out the video?”

“Em. First of all, you’re too young to be looking at stuff like that.”

“I didn’t look at it,” she protests, “and besides, I’m seventeen!”

“And second of all—hell no. That’d feel weird. He’s my coworker. And—I don’t know, it’d feel like a violation.”

“You two are going to get to know each other pretty well before the filming is over. I read the book.”

I roll my eyes to hide my embarrassment. Emma always knows how to go in for the kill, even when she’s teasing. I’d read Write Anything a few times, too. “Yeah, well, it’s just my job. We’re professionals.”

The book only described heavy make-out scenes that eventually faded to black, thankfully, but that still means I’ll be kissing Logan Gray shirtless. That was all a part of the casting, too. Paola getting in touch with the intimacy coordinator, making sure we all agreed on our personal levels of comfort. The movie is PG-13, but this particular scene will push the film closer to the edge of R-rated territory.

“I mean, you can’t complain too much,” Emma says, still teasing. “He might be an asshole, but he’s really, really hot.”

I unfortunately agree. Not that I’m going to admit that, mostly because I don’t really want to talk to Emma about this sort of thing. (Why are teenagers so much more flippant about sex these days?)

But the other reason lingers in the air. I told my family I was gay almost five years ago. It’s old news. My sister didn’t care. My mom had a few months of saying offensive, hurtful things before she understood that, no, I will never be interested in marrying a woman. That was the only rift in our relationship, but we’ve had enough conversations that we’re in a better place now. But my dad…We never talked much to begin with, but he stopped talking to me altogether. He never yelled at me or told me I was going to hell or anything I expected. It was like that was enough for him to decide that he didn’t love me anymore.

I don’t want to admit it to anyone—I barely want to admit it to myself—but that shame is still there. It’s a seed in my chest, growing whenever I find a man attractive. I understand consciously that I have nothing to be ashamed about—but it’s like my body still hasn’t caught up. My heart races, my skin flushes, and I feel like I’m already burning in hell. Nothing has helped—not the podcasts, not the books or articles I’ve read. I haven’t gone out with anyone since the tour for Love Me Dearly ended, though I’ve gotten many interested messages. And now this: making out with another man in a blockbuster film. Everyone will expect me to be the sort of actor who will be out and proud about my sexuality to help publicize the movie. That was one of the reasons they reached out to me, another tick on their checklist for diversity.

Riley Mason struggles with shame in the book and film also, before he accepts himself with Quinn’s help. Maybe that’s partly why I took the job, in the end. I hope that I’ll work through the shame, too. I’m not the first actor to use my job as therapy.