Stars in Your Eyes(22)

Click. I hang up the phone and try not to sink to the floor. I’m a perfectionist because I feel like I need to prove to other people that I’m worthy of love. I have to earn their love by being the best. Where did that even come from? My mom has always loved me, unconditionally, and so has Emma…but my dad, when I was younger, always shouted at me to work harder, to be the best in sports and bring home the best grades. I failed his idea of what it meant to be a man. Maybe that’s affected me more than I’ve realized.

I can already feel the overwhelming shame of this massive mistake coming on. People are going to realize that I’m not perfect. That I’m not the golden boy of Hollywood that I’ve worked so hard to be. These are the moments that I wish I could be more like Gray and say fuck it—I don’t care what anyone thinks. I’ve got a while before I can reach that place, I think.





archiveofourown.org



Love in the Club


uwuhearts99





Summary:


Mattie Cole and Logan Gray can’t keep their hands to themselves.





Notes:


Okay, so I KNOW this is weird, but…the idea of Mattie Cole and Logan Gray together is DOING THINGS TO ME!!! I hope y’all like this.





Chapter 1: The Club




Gray pressed a hand to Mattie’s bare chest. His heart was beating rapidly in sync to the music that flowed around him. The club’s lights strobed and pulsed, just like the bulge in Gray’s pants, which was painfully hard to ignore.



“I never thought I would ever feel anything like this,” Gray said. “You’ve thawed my cold heart, Mattie.”



Mattie couldn’t wait any longer. He wanted Gray, here and now—on the dance floor. He sank to his knees. “I’m always happy to be of service, Gray.”



Gray began to unzip his jeans. Mattie slid down Gray’s boxers, releasing the painful bulge. Mattie gasped. Gray was HUGE!



People began to notice, but Mattie and Gray were used to performing. They were famous actors, after all. Mattie opened his mouth wide and Gray groaned. Neither of them cared that everyone in the club was staring. This was something they had both wanted for so long, and no one was going to stop them now.





Logan




The schedule for the day gets switched around. I’ve got a few scenes with Keith and a reshoot with Monica. I was supposed to focus on working with Matt. More than a few people around set are peeved. I feel bad. I’d considered sending him a text this morning to see if he wanted to ride over together. But I figured it would be better to keep some space between us. If we’re not performing our characters or our fake relationship, no need to spend extra time together like we did last night. Eating tacos and talking about personal shit. Why? It’ll just get too complicated after a while. I don’t know. I had a good time, but when I got back to my room, I started to feel an old tension filling my chest. I’d rather not deal with it.

Matt rushes in almost an hour after call time, apologizing over and over as he’s ushered to wardrobe and makeup, Dave’s assistant following close behind. I snort. There’ve been days when I wandered onto set five hours late, cocaine still on my nose. I didn’t need to work to live back then.

I’ve already eaten breakfast and waited for another hour in my trailer before hair and makeup came. That’s the one thing I’ll probably never get used to, no matter how long I’m in this industry. How many fucking hours I have to sit around doing nothing. The standins help the crew make sure the lighting and blocking is as planned, and when they’re done, it’s like we’re all waiting for someone else to say it’s time to begin.

We’re about to start a new scene. Monica and I sit at a kitchen table. Her black hair is pulled into a messy bun, shadows painted under her eyes. Mrs. Evans is the overworked, exhausted mother. She always has time for her son, who has been too afraid to really open himself up and risk falling in love. Figuring out any of my characters’ relationships with their mothers is probably the hardest part of the job, since I’m not sure about my own relationship with my mom. We barely interact. If I ever disappointed her, she didn’t show it. Just left the discipline to my dad.

She wasn’t always so cold. I have memories of her smiling as I opened presents, of sitting with me by the pool of my dad’s mansion. Looking back now, I understand why I’d find her crying in the bathroom sometimes. Whenever I visit her in Florida and open the cabinet over the bathroom sink, it’s filled with prescription pills. Sometimes I think she hated my father as much as I do. At least she figured out how to escape him. I’m mad that she didn’t take me with her.

Monica’s character isn’t anything like my mom, even if Monica herself tends to be cold and distant. Mrs. Evans is loving and comforting. The mother I wish I had, I guess.

“Quiet on set. Take one. Action!”

She puts a hand on my arm. “Quinn, the one thing I wish I did when I was young was follow my heart. No matter what.”

God, these fucking lines. I ignore the corniness and focus. I have trouble meeting her eye. It hurts, that her character is so supportive of mine. It always hurts, just a little, whenever I see parents who love their kids, on-screen or in real life. I never had that. Why not?