Heat

DISCLAIMER: This story is not meant to imply anything about the sexualities of the people involved. This story makes no comment or assumption about the views on homosexuality held by Warner Brothers, Greg Berlanti, Mickey Liddell, or anyone else involved with "Everwood." This is merely a fantasy

H E A T Part II by reid

Chapter Two -

I felt like I'd been tossed into a deep fryer. It felt like grease coated every inch of my body and had begun to ooze out of my pores like toothpaste. Desperately, I tried not to smell myself. Whatever odor my person was giving off had to be absolutely unholy.

I cursed Leigh for making me work in the craft service van. Of course she would do that to me. She had the sickest sense of vengeance that I'd ever known. Not only had she forced me to work in inhumanly hot conditions, she had kept me apart from Greg. Really, that was the only part that really bothered me.

All day my heart had felt sunk. Several times I'd had to fight from crying in disappointment. We hadn't even been working at the national park where we'd been filming the day before. We were stationed in town where the "older" half of the story was being filmed. It wasn't all bad. Treat Williams had expressed sympathy at my horrid job. The strange thing was that he recognized me somehow.

To top it all off, my damn key didn't want to come out of my pocket.

The card had become wedged into my wallet and I had to work it out, moving it side to side and nearly cutting my thumb on the plastic. Once it came free, I slid it into the lock - nothing happened. I pulled it out and tried again - still nothing. I ground my teeth and went for a third attempt - nope.

"Need some help?"

I almost jumped out of my skin at the voice. It was Greg.

I turned around to see him standing behind me in the hallway. The sight of him made me feel lightly and giddy almost simply by reflex. Nervously, I tried to steady myself and forget how awful I looked. Especially when he looked so fashionable. He was wearing a black button down t-shirt that clung to his slim torso and red Umbro soccer shorts. The sight of his bare skin made me nervous and excited at the same time.

Now I just had to say something.

"Sure."

Wow. What a stunningly romantic thing to say.

Greg smiled and took the key from my hands. He stepped by me towards the door and gave me a divine chance to sample his natural aroma. He used the same shampoo. Alpine fresh and mountain river clean.

Like magic, he slipped the card into the slot and the little light came up green. The lock clicked as he opened the door and ushered me in like a gentleman. My hotel room had benefitted from the air conditioning running without a sweating human being inside. It smelled cool and fresh; the bed neatly made by the housekeeping staff.

I turned to face Greg, "You want to come in?"

He smiled again, "Sure."

After he stepped inside the room and his back was to me, I closed my eyes tightly and implored myself not to screw this up. Clenching my hand around the door handle, I took a deep breath and closed the door.

Greg sat down on my bed and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. Silently I sat down in one of the chairs by the table. I didn't really know what to say. He had to have known that I'd left. Everyone probably did. I was probably the laughing stock of the Everwood set.

"Is everything okay?" He asked.

"Yeah - why?."

Another pause. He rubbed his hands together.

"You weren't around today."

I tried to sound casual, "Oh! I got assigned to work in the craft service van. It was sort of my punishment for not finishing my work yesterday."

Greg nodded, "That must have been not at all brain melting."

"Something like that."

"I was worried. I didn't know if you'd been fired or something."

It took me a minute to say anything, "Why would you worry?"

He looked at his hands as he rubbed them together again, "I don't know."

We both sat in silence for several seconds. My frazzled brain did its best to try and piece together some sort of logic in his actions. Something about what he'd done seemed almost affectionate. Affectionate and protective.

Greg sat, his hands balled together, and stared at his feet. His toe rotated slightly and pressed into the carpet, his calf muscle flexing as he did so. Almost immediately, I became fixated on it. I felt the familiar burn of arousal in my nether regions before scolding myself. This wasn't the time. This wasn't the time to start perving around.

"I just didn't like not knowing where you were," He said finally, leaning back on the bed on his elbows, "Everybody I like gets the overbearing side of my personality."

"Awww - you like me?"

He laughed, "Shut up."

"You like me? You really like me?!" I said, hoping my glee didn't sound as heartfelt as it truly was.

"I like people that I can talk to. I can talk to you. That's a rarity in this business."

"Whoa - all that sweet talk will give you a cavity."

He smiled, "After you shower, do you want go to over to my hotel? If you're not too tired."

I struggled to maintain my sanity, "That'd be great," I paused and frowned, "Who said I was taking a shower?"

Greg laughed again, "Well - come on."

"Am I not good enough for your Hollywood crowd the way I am?!" I said in perfect mock-outrage.

"Well, in not so many words."

I looked at him disgustedly. Before I knew what I was doing, I jumped onto the bed and tackled him, holding my sweat encrusted t-shirt over his face. He groaned and tried to push me off, my leverage doing a remarkable job of holding us in place.

"Fuck!" He yelled, "Get off me! You smell like burnt ass!"

Before he could say anything else, I pressed my fingers into his waist and began tickling him. Greg began to laugh and squirm under me, his warm body pressing into me like a pillow. Sweat began to bead on his forehead as he thrashed and tried to buck me off, his hands trying to gain some sort of hold on my own waist.

Then it happened again. The same moment of pause came over me and stopped. Greg noticed it too and stopped wiggling underneath me, his chest heaving against mine. Our faces were only a few inches apart and I could see right into his deep green eyes. It was like looking into an emerald.

I stood up, "So yeah. I'll shower and you can introduce me to - the others."

Greg smiled and mopped his damp forehead, "Sweet."

In a rush, I yanked clean clothes out of my bag and struggled to keep from dropping them as I stumbled into the bathroom. I heard Greg switch on the TV and the idle noise comforted me. At the very least, he wasn't fleeing from me at the first opportunity. Or maybe he was. Maybe the TV was to distract me from the sound of the door closing - but then my little voice spoke to me again.

Everything is okay, it said. Everything is going to be fine.

The shower did little to calm me down. Mostly, it seemed as though the hot water had only heightened my nerve endings. I washed hurriedly, shampooing and scrubbing until I smelled halfway human again. My nervousness was so thick that I couldn't even attempt to masturbate, leading me to realize just how off kilter I really was.

In the steamy confines of the mildewy room, I yanked my clothes on quickly, nearly ripping them at the seams. This wasn't about looking good. It was about - maintaining dignity. I didn't need to look good to do that. All I had to do was not scare him off and then - I could die. Hopefully, before then, I could do unholy things - I had to stop myself again and breathe deeply.

Greg was still there when I stepped out of the bathroom. We both tried to ignore the huge cloud of steam that followed me and the redness of my skin due to the hot water. He switched off the TV and stood up.

"Good shower?"

"Yeah." I wheezed, short of breath.

Greg rubbed his hands together and exhaled as he walked to the door, holding it open for me once again. After I walked through and my back was turned, I couldn't help but smile euphorically. I managed to straighten my face as I turned around and we walked down the hall to the elevator.

When we left the lobby of the hotel and stepped into the heat, I got my first shock as Greg led me to a shoddy looking late 80's sedan. Somehow, I'd expected that he'd have a nicer, more Hollywood appropriate car. I grabbed the handle on the passengers side and after a few yanks, the rusted door gave way.

The car didn't have air conditioning. That much was immediately apparent. It felt like stepping inside a sauna that smelled like wet dogs and diapers. Greg slid into the driver's seat and put on a pair of sunglasses, hurriedly rolling down the driver side window. I did the same, mercifully, the handle on the window didn't stick.

"Sorry," He said as he searched for his keys, "I lost the rental car raffle."

"What the hell is that?"

Greg paused as he worked the key into the ignition, "The cast and crew have to basically draw numbers for their rental car. Mine was in the late 100's so - I got this charming thing."

I couldn't help but laugh, "It won't explode, will it?"

"Let's hope not." His tone was joking - but not completely.

With a growling rumble, the ignition turned over and the engine groaned into life. The vents on the dashboard spewed out a gust of greasy smelling air. Greg chewed on his lower lip while he waited for the engine to steady out.

"Now is when we pray."

I braced myself against the hot, stained upholstered seat. Greg shifted the car into gear and audibly sighed as it shifted backwards. With a proud smile, he backed out of the parking lot and onto the road. As the car drove over onto the concrete, the bottom felt like it would fall out any minute and I held onto the door, still expecting the worst.

As the drive progressed across town without mechanical disaster, I relaxed into the seat. Without the tension of the car, my mind snapped back to being nervous about just exactly what it was I was going. I was riding in a car with Greg. Gregory Smith.

The realization hit me again and I needed another deep, cleansing breath. Not the easiest thing to do in a hot, stifling car - but I persevered.

I noticed the generally nicer area of town we had entered. There were no more mini-marts and vacated stores here. Just on one street alone, I counted six coffee shops and four "gourmet" grocery stores. The proverbial "right side of the tracks."

"Wow - I've never been in the rich part of town before."

Greg laughed, "Yeah. The polo grounds are to the left."

Just as the nasty smell of the car interior was about to make me feel sick, Greg pulled the car into the lot outside of the Radisson. At first glance, it didn't look too much better than the Best Western but once I got a closer look, it wasn't nearly as chipped and worn down. Somehow I'd expected the performer's hotel to be much more - swank.

Greg parked the car in-between two enormous, hazardous-looking Dodge Durangos. I unbuckled my seatbelt and stepped out of the car, flash cooked by the heat immediately. It was late in the afternoon but the baked earth was still radiating a day's worth of sun exposure. I felt drops of sweat roll down my cheeks as the hot air seemed to fill my lungs.

"Did you scrape anybody?" I asked as Greg joined me on the sidewalk.

"Nah. I've had practice."

I looked at the contrast between the cars, "Kinda stands out like a sore thumb, doesn't it?"

Greg smirked, "I know the feeling."

Something in his voice sounded odd. It made my stomach flutter for a moment. Something in his voice made me feel - reciprocated. I looked over at Greg and suddenly he didn't seem so effacing. His casual confidence evaporated momentarily.

"Pardon?"

He shook his head, "Nevermind. Let's go in."

The confidence was back.

We turned and walked towards the entrance to the hotel. The brief moment of weirdness left my consciousness as I saw the large, luxurious lobby of the Radisson. Decked out in white with real plants and wooden benches, it made the Best Western look like a ghetto. The interior was air conditioned but with real air, not the circulated air I'd grown accustomed to. The sudden coolness raised goose bumps on my arms.

After riding the huge glass encased elevator, we got off on the highest floor. Just the knowledge that we were that high up made my feel a little light headed. I wasn't exactly afraid of heights, but I wasn't completely comfortable with it. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath while I tried to forget the altitude.

I suppressed the dizziness and followed Greg down the hall. I noticed how much better the Radisson smelled. Cleaner. More aerodynamic. For one horrifying second, I began to worry that I was being corrupted by the better side of the tracks. No way could that happen.

"It's like heaven." I said with breathless amazement.

Greg laughed sarcastically.

From somewhere above, I heard light violin music. The Radisson had music piped into the hallways. The most I could expect from the Best Western in that category was a furnace that almost sounded like Bauhaus. Greg slid the key card through the lock with the same expertise he'd shown earlier. The door swung open on well oiled hinges.

Something had led me to believe that he'd be set up in the biggest hotel suite possible. A network TV star would of course have to have some huge palatial loft with a wet bar and mink carpeting. Something about the plain-ness and the affability of the room shocked me. Although it was a two room plus bathroom set up, it was hardly enormous.

It was lived in, as well. It smelled like Greg. My head started to swim again.

He beckoned me inside. I tried not to laugh at how messy the room was. Shirts and pants were strewn across the couch in the sitting room, the floor everywhere, and the bedroom. Dirty socks, undershirts, a wet pair of swim trunks soaking the decently priced carpet. A paper airplane had crashed into the overhead lamp.

Fast food containers were stacked like skyscrapers on the glass table as well as the counter by the sink. I also noticed lots of used pieces of floss lying around. That part wasn't so charming. I'd pictured Greg as a neat freak.

"Nice place."

"Yeah, I cleaned up," He said as he tossed his keys in the vague direction of the table, "Have a seat."

I stood in the sitting room, not sure exactly where to sit. The only couch I saw was half covered with a stack of dog-eared scripts and a bulky gym bag. Greg had retreated into the bedroom and I could partially hear him on the phone. It sounded like a typical talent-producer conversation.

Taking a chance, I picked the gym bag up and moved it into the floor. An irrational fear gripped me as I worried that Greg would be pissed that I'd messed with his slovenly Feng Shui. My palms began to sweat and my heart rate sped up. Was the room always so hot, I wondered to myself.

Just as I was about to hyperventilate, Greg came back into the room. I immediately searched his face for some sign of anger or offense. My heart felt like it was about to skip a beat. The last thing I could afford to do at this point was to make him angry.

Greg just yawned.

Casually, he shoveled the stack of scripts off the couch onto the floor with a thud. The couch shifted as he sat down next to me. I was still waiting for when he was going to get mad about the gym bag.

"I moved the bag onto the floor." I said, wincing internally at how frantic I sounded to myself.

He nodded slowly, "Okay."

"It was on the couch." I stammered, swallowing hard.

Greg smiled, "I bet you wanted to sit on the couch, huh?"

I nodded and turned my head away, grimacing at my own lameness. I clenched my eyes shut and opened them again, exhaling as I looked at Greg again. This time I was going to be much more casual and witty. Like that was going to happen.

"Thirsty?" He asked.

I nodded, noticing how dry my throat felt.

Greg got up and walked to the mini bar. I watched with near amazement as he opened the door and casually pulled out several cans of Pepsi. Never in my life would I have ever treated a mini bar with such casual disrespect. I was always taught that a mini bar, if not given the proper fear and consideration, could ruin your life.

"You hungry?" He asked over his shoulder.

"Nah, not right now."

He sat back down next to me, "That's cool. The room service here is actually decent so maybe later, huh?"

I nodded and opened the can, thankful that the sweet nectar could keep my mouth from embarrassing me any further. So desperate was I that the sip continued going. By the time I noticed, the can was half empty and Greg was looking me. Touchdown, Reid. Yet another brilliant tactical maneuver in the pursuit of happiness.

"Thirsty." I said, before coughing and nearly sending a jet of Pepsi out my nose.

Greg nodded, "Cool."

He reached over and grabbed the TV remote, flicking the button. The floor mounted TV screen flickered to life on a commercial for Hawaiian Punch. Greg settled back into the couch and the cushions shifted under me. For the first time I began to realize what was really happening: here I was in a hotel room with Gregory Smith, my love interest for God knows how long and all I was worried about was trying to look cool. It was the same thing I promised myself I'd never do.

His knee. His knee was close to mine. Only about an inch away. Goose bumps raised on my arms again. Just the thought of him touching me was enough to send me spiraling back into the depths of nervousness. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, glad that I had a tried and true method to fall back on.

When I opened my eyes, his knee was still so close to mine. Every so often, he would move it even closer and then back again. My heart felt like it was skipping a beat every time. Of course, right then was when my senses started to detect his scent in the air. That same mix of soap, sweat, and nature. It made my mouth water.

Against the arm of the couch, my palm felt the fabric. It was soaked with sweat. Before long, the whole couch would be wet and spongy with my perspiration. I could feel drops of sweat rolling down my sides. If irony was truly present, the TV would show a commercial for deodorant.

When Hawaiian Punch had finished their two minutes of hocking, an old episode of The Golden Girls filled the screen. I couldn't help but smile. The show brought back nice memories.

"That's the most genuine Golden Girls-related smile I've ever seen."

I snapped out of it and looked at him apologetically, "Sorry."

"No, it's okay."

I paused, "It's one of 'those' shows, I guess."

"How come?"

"I remember it from when I was a kid. When my Mom and Dad were having problems, I got sent to my Grandma's house. She always watched The Golden Girls and Empty Nest and it was the only time I didn't worry about-" I stopped and realized how non-appropriate the setting was, "Sorry."

Greg looked at me. The look in his eyes was different than anything I'd ever seen from anyone before. I'd never seen such a kind, concerned look in my life. As much as it made me feel exposed and vulnerable, it felt better than anything I could remember.

"What happened?"

"Huh?"

He shook his head slightly, "What happened to make you so quick to apologize?"

"My whole life." I said.

Suddenly, I was feeling a familiar fatigue that seemed to pop up whenever my childhood reared its ugly head. All the years of hiding and trying to stay out of the way somehow managed to give me a swift kick in the spine. Instinctively, I almost apologized again, but for the first time - I didn't feel like I had to.

Instead, I noticed his knee again. It didn't seem so daunting.

Boldly, I reached out and laid my hand on Greg's knee. It didn't feel that much different from any other skin I'd ever touched, but it sent a chill up my spine just the same. For a heart stopping moment, I expected him to freak out or stop me - but he didn't.

When my palm touched him, he shifted slightly. I ran the tip of my thumb across his kneecap, feeling the wispy hairs. His skin was so warm and firm under my touch. I tried to ignore the pounding of my heart in my ears as I stroked his knee again. Goose bumps had begin to stand up on his leg.

"They said if Ephram ever wears shorts, I have to shave."

By pure natural instinct, I laughed out loud. Maybe it was the relief that he hadn't rejected me or called me a faggot and told me to get out. Maybe it was the pleasure of hearing the kind of nervous line that I myself would probably have used in his position. His nervousness comforted me.

Greg laughed too. It was a quick nervous laugh.

"You're only twenty," I said and took my hand off his knee, "Body hair would just be freaky at this point, right?"

He smirked, "You didn't have to move your hand."

Wow. I didn't expect to hear something that forward.

I looked at him again. Something told me to kiss him. To just move my face in and kiss him long and deep right on the lips. Every rational bone in my body was telling me different - but my little voice was speaking pretty loud, however.

Just as I was about to move in, God's horrid sense of humor seemed to step right in. We were in the middle of God's country, after all. His Latter Day Saints were all around us.

The power went out.

On the TV, The Golden Girls' discussion of their libido shrunk to the size of a dot. The overhead lamp went out and the lights outside of the room died. The only light in the room was the waning natural glow as the sun sunk behind the peaks of the Rocky Mountains. Most frighteningly, the air conditioning shut off.

I forgot all about Greg and went over to the door. It opened easily and I looked out into the dark hallway. The only natural light came in through the sky light, making the hotel look like a huge, dark chasm. Blackouts were right above castration on my list of "fun ways to spend time." I didn't like feeling helpless.

"Power's out." The door slid back into the frame and I leaned against it.

"You're not gonna go John Rainbird on me, are you?" Greg asked.

"Who?" I mumbled, rubbing my face miserably.

"Stephen King reference," He said and stood next to me, "Reid?"

"Hmm?"

"You okay?"

"Yeah. I just don't like the whole 'vulnerable, no power' thing."

He squeezed my shoulder, "I won't let anything happen to you. A skinny white boy like me? Who'd mess, huh?"

Such a warm, flooding gratitude filled me that I nearly burst into tears. Something not entirely unlike security was my next sensation. My fingers uncurled from the handle and I noticed the dull ache in my foot from where I'd kicked the door. I leaned my head back and looked at the door, seeing how the pinkish hue from the sky cast an eerie red light into the room.

I swallowed again and ran my fingers through my hair. Almost immediately after the AC had failed, a balmy heat had begun to fill the room. At least with the nightfall, it wouldn't be quite so hot.

"Any candles?" I asked, rubbing my eyes.

Greg chewed on his lip as he looked around.

"No. I could make a torch out of a script?"

I smiled and sat down at the table, trying to breathe deeply and remain calm.

"You hungry yet?" Greg asked as he turned on a battery powered camping lantern.

"What do you have?" I leaned back in the chair.

"Well, room service is kind of out," He said as he opened the mini bar again and began to search.

A few seconds later, Greg came back to the table and unloaded a sizeable pile of junk food. It fell across the glass tabletop like a wave of cholesterol, sugar, and carbohydrates. My teeth hurt just looking at it.

"We have Fritos, Snickers, Nutrageouses," Greg said as he sorted through the bounty, "Four single serving packages of Nutella, Toblerlones, chocolate bars with chunks of Butterfinger, string cheese, smoked almonds, Doritos, and macadamia nuts."

"Not bad."

"And - the finest strawberry wine available west of the Rockies." He said and set the small bottle on the table.

"Wait - who's paying for this?"

Greg opened one of the candy bars, "Warner Brothers. Their insurance policy covers 'Acts of God' such as earthquakes, flash floods, tornados and blackouts in luxury hotels. We might as well live it up."

I picked up the bottle of wine and tore off the foil. It only took me about five minutes of work with a discarding plastic knife to get most of the cork clear of the bottle neck. After taking a deep breath, I took several good sized gulps of wine. My stomach churned and I coughed, the cheap taste piercing my tongue like a fermented stick.

"How is it?" Greg asked as he sat down next to me.

"Smooth." I croaked, my throat burning.

A few moments of silence passed. I opened the bag of Doritos and tried to cleanse the taste of cheap wine from my tastebuds. Anxiety caused a lot of bad times, least among them the tendency to imbibe foul tasting liquids in hopes of getting a buzz. Or to try and loosen myself up socially.

Who was I kidding? Who were we kidding? Greg and I were both trying to avoid talking about what had just happened. At least he was, I guessed. Badly, I wanted to pick up where I'd left off. The memory sent a chill of excitement up my spine - but also a churn of disappointment through my stomach. My moment had passed.

I played with the bottlecap idly.

"I wasn't hitting on you."

Greg frowned, "What do you mean?"

"I was just - nervous," I lied through my teeth, "When I'm nervous, I do weird stuff like that."

"Oh," He nodded slowly, "Okay."

Another moment of silence. The only sound was Greg drumming his fingers against the glass table top. I had ruined what could have been the biggest moment of my life. I'd scared him away. God, I couldn't even run out the door and go get drunk.

"So!" Greg said suddenly, "I hear the hooch is pretty good around here!"

He grabbed the bottle of wine and pulled out the cork, pouring the thick red stream into a plastic hotel cup. Trying to look on the bright side, I sat back and waited for his horrified reaction to the taste.

"Is that cup clean?"

"I don't know." He shrugged.

I watched as he took his first sip. The funniest part was the look of dawning realization followed by the complete and utter disgust. His face twisted and spit the wine back into the cup, sending a healthy splash onto the table top. Greg coughed and wiped his mouth, spitting into a balled up napkin.

"Smooth!"

He coughed, "Smooth isn't the word for it."

Moment of silence number three. Silently, I wished I could bury myself in one of the Styrofoam containers. I was feeling a horrible mix of stupidity and disappointment - and shame. Can't forget shame. I exhaled loudly as the bottlecap lost most of whatever entertainment value it had left.

I made a decision. I would flee for my life. I'd just excuse myself from the awkwardness of the situation. Greg could go back to being charming, I could go back to my grunt job on the set. As much as it hurt, I knew this wasn't going to work - no matter what my little voice said. Well, right then it was speaking rather loud.

"Before you apologize again, I should tell you something." Greg said, his voice calm.

I shelved my plans to leave. Momentarily, at least. Mentally, I swatted at my little voice, trying to get it to shut up. Something told me that I needed to be listening to what Greg was saying at that moment.

"It's okay if you were - nervous. It's okay if you still are."

My little voice was shouting at me.

"I know how it feels to be nervous." He said, his voice unsteady for a moment.

Now the voice was practically screaming. I leaned forward on my knees and clenched my hands together under the table. The blood was squeezed out of my knuckles and the bones in my hands ground together. I'd have called it nervousness - but it wasn't bad like that.

"I know what happens when people find out that you're nervous," He paused and exhaled through his teeth, "I also know that being nervous doesn't always agree with your dad - or anyone's dad."

The fourth moment of silence. This time it wasn't so bad.

"It's okay if you're nervous, Reid. We can be nervous together."

I swallowed at the lump in my throat. It was the only thing I could do. My eyes felt that familiar burn that always comes before you start to cry. In such a situation, I'd freeze up and stomp on my soul like a wayward campfire. It was a survival mechanism.

"Sor-"

"Don't apologize!" Greg interrupted, "Just - don't apologize. My moments of gay pride are too rare and if you apologized, it would be like showing the groundhog his shadow."

I looked at him, "You ramble like a motherfucker, you know that?"

He laughed, "So I've been told."

Right then would have been an excellent time to kiss him. The little smile on his face was so tempting. The cute way he was digging into the carpet with his toe. The way he chewed on his bottom lip. No time would have been more perfect to finally, for once in my life, make a truly decent move towards somebody I liked.

But my cell phone rang.

The shrill chirping struck my ear like an ice pick and I winced, pulling the phone out of my pocket. Greg sighed and sat back in the chair. Yet another perfect moment ruined by my own - my own self. God bless it.

When I put the phone to my ear, a twangy static attacked my ear. Not even the loudest and most irritating of voices could break through. I tapped the phone a few times against my knee and tried again, gritting my teeth at the static.

"I can't get any reception," I stood up, "I'm going to try out in the hall."

I didn't wait for a response.

In the hallway, people had started to come out of their rooms and congregate over the situation. I was reminded that this wasn't the Best Western. Among the gathered masses were cast members of the show, producers, and whoever else made more than thirty grand a year. It was no time to be star struck, however.

"Hello?" I said as the static abated.

"Reid?"

It was Leigh. Of course it was.

"Yeah - who else would it be?"

"Where the hell are you?"

I leaned against the railing, "I'm at the Radisson."

"At the-- what the hell-- why are you there?!"

"Baking bread!" I said with impressive snot in my voice, "I'm hanging out with some people from the show."

Leigh paused.

"Who?"

"Just - some people." I looked down over the balcony.

"I'll bet I know who 'they' are."

"Oh?"

Looking over the railing was starting to give me vertigo. On the ground floor lobby of the hotel, they'd set up floodlights. Underneath the large white beams, I could see the tiled mosaic floor in all its tan and brown glory. My head began to spin and I stepped away from the railing.

"It's that guy - Gregory Smith, isn't it?"

"What if it is?"

She paused again, "Be careful."

"What does that mean?"

Her voice took on a sharp edge, "It means 'Everwood' doesn't need to have rumors floating around about it's star. Especially questions about said star's sexuality. Understand?"

I smirked. She had a way with words, I'd give her that.

"I understand, ma'am."

Before she could get further upon her high horse, I shut the phone off. Sweat rolled into my eyes again and stung them. The temperature inside the hotel must have reached at least ninety five degrees. Even the Best Western's paltry air conditioning would have been preferable at that point.

Now what the hell was I going to do? Sure the interruption had been a blessed event - but now it was gone. There was nothing left between myself and - whatever the hell was going to happen with Greg. A fluttering excitement jumped in my stomach, and while my brain told my feet to run the other way as fast as I could, my heart spoke louder. Slowly, I walked back towards the door and pushed it open.

Inside, the heat was even more concentrated. It felt just below sauna level temperatures with humidity to match. I noticed the darkness immediately. Greg had moved the camping lantern. Greg himself had moved. The table was unoccupied.

"Hey, where are you?" I called, cautiously picking me way through the cluttered living room. Right on cue, my shin whacked against a box. A heavy box.

"I'm in the bedroom." Greg called.

I made a noise. I'm not sure what kind of noise it was exactly. Sort of a moan and a whine mixed together. Arousal mixed with pain. My throat felt dry and my head spun as the heat in the room bore down on me. This could not be healthy. No way, no how.

Steeling myself, I traversed the hazardous terrain of the hotel room and slipped through the ajar bedroom door. The window was open and a somewhat cool breeze was filtering in, the temperature difference refreshing. I mopped my forehead slowly.

Greg was laying on the bed, the lantern precariously balanced on the night stand. He had unbuttoned his shirt and in doing so, exposed his chest. His skin looked soft and smooth, so very inviting. His skin was pale - drawn tight like silk over well developed muscles. Apparently, he did work out - I hadn't guessed he was the type.

My knees weakened as I tried to subtly take in his bare skin in the split second I had before it would look - weird. Try as I might, I couldn't tear my eyes away from the patch of hairs on his stomach. The patch of hairs that led downwards--

Greg's voice snapped me out of my haze, "Sorry I don't have TV. The whole 'power outage' thing, you know."

I nodded, making my rickety legs carry me over to the other bed. I sat down, relieved because I'd probably have passed out any second. I leaned back on my elbow and exhaled deeply, still lightheaded but trying to think of anything else to distract me.

Greg rolled onto his side. One side of his shirt fell away and exposed his left nipple. The back of my tongue ached at the sight as more sweat rolled into my eyes. Blinking furiously, I tried to think of something to distract me.

"Who was on the phone?" Greg asked as he pulled off his shoes and socks.

"Leigh," I forced my mouth to form words, "She wanted to know where the hell I was."

He smiled, "What did you tell her?"

I let myself lay down on the bed. Next to him. Very slowly.

"I told her I'm 'hanging out with some people from the show.'"

Greg nodded.

"I think she bought it." I said, coughing at the dryness in my throat.

I pushed the heels of my palms into my eyes, swallowing hard. I had never passed out cold in my life but I was getting close to breaching that threshold. I'd be lucky if the experience didn't give me heatstroke. Cautiously, I curled my arms behind my head and stared at the ceiling - trying like hell to seem casual.

"I guess I'm walking home." I yawned.

Greg frowned, "What do you mean?"

"It's not safe to drive and I doubt Utah can be all that dangerous after dark."

I yawned again and rubbed my eyes. Somewhere inside, I'd submitted to the fact that the whole thing had been missed up beyond repair. I'd scared him away, I'd ruined the perfect moment, I'd acted so squirrely and nervous that he was probably looking for a way to get me to leave. The whole 'polite but pushing you towards the door' act was something I'd learned to recognize long ago.

My stomach ached as I made the decision to leave. It was a mix of disappointment, heartbreak, and longing. All three sensations were nothing new. At least this time I'd driven off a famous person. Somehow that didn't make me feel better.

I finished rubbing my eyes but I didn't open them yet. My muscles tensed as I went to sit up - but I couldn't. A sudden weight pressed down on me. A firm, warm weight against my chest and stomach. I opened my eyes and my breath caught in my throat.

Greg was laying on top of me.

His face was only an inch away from mine.

Our faces were so close that I could see the tiny drops of sweat at his hairline. The tiny flecks of gray in his green eyes. The drop of sweat that rolled off his nose and fell onto my cheek. I could feel the beat of his pulse in his thigh and the thump of his heart against my chest. I felt the heat between his legs, too.

My mouth stumbled as I tried to say something - anything - to him.

"Uh - what are you--"

Blessedly enough, Greg interrupted.

"You were gonna leave."

Before I could some up with anything truly humiliating to say in return, he kissed me.

It wasn't a Hollywood, slowly moving towards each other kiss. It wasn't a jackhammer-like porn kiss, either. It really wasn't like any other kiss I'd ever experienced. For a brief second, I wondered if the Doritos had made my mouth taste bad.

Greg's lips pressed against mine before I could react. It was an immediate warmth and I could feel the blood flowing under the skin. Then I felt the wetness as he kissed me fully. A jolt ran up my spine and I squirmed underneath him, my brain threatening to go into sensory overload. I felt self conscious, worried that my growing erection might frighten him somehow.

At some point, I'd closed my eyes. Then I kissed him back.

I moved my lips against his, opening my mouth and tasting him. There wasn't any wine taste in his mouth - only a hint of chocolate. His natural scent filled my nose and I felt lightheaded. .

Sweat rolled off his face onto mine. At any other time, it would have grossed me out. Oddly enough, in that situation, it didn't. Maybe it was the heat.

The room did feel hotter than a sauna and maybe brain was responding appropriately. Greg's hand slid under my shirt and onto my damp chest, his kissing growing more aggressive. When he stroked my nipple, my body shuddered and I nearly gagged on the pleasure I was feeling.

My penis, however, was working just fine. It throbbed as I felt his tongue slide between my lips. Greg thrust himself against me, his own erection pressing into mine. His loins felt harder than a diamond. Slowly, I allowed my own hands to slide under the back of his shirt, pulling it up as I stroked the tight muscles of his back.

I wrapped my other arm around him, pulling him closer to me. Greg moaned into my mouth and his kissing grew wetter and more passionate. Every time he buried his tongue in my mouth, I could feel the black hair of his wet bangs brushing my forehead. The soft, prickly sensation made goose bumps stand up on my skin, even in the sweltering heat.

Slowly, I reached up and began to pull Greg's shirt off. The black fabric slid down off his smooth skin effortlessly. He broke the kiss for moment and straddled me as the last of the shirt left his form. In the sparse light provided by the camping lantern, I got my first full look at his bare torso. Right about the same time, my mouth watered.

I ran my hand up over his tight stomach and over the slight bumps of his ribs under the skin. Sweat made his skin sticky to my touch and as I ran my finger tips through his belly button, he shivered and stifled a moan. His muscles flexed and he leaned forward, placing his hands on either side of me. My hands moved around onto his back and I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him back on top of me.

Suddenly, it didn't seem so difficult. Hell, it was getting easier.

My newly minted confidence surprised me. It's boldness, especially.

Slowly, I moved over and rolled Greg onto his back. I only pulled away long enough to pull off my t-shirt and toss it to the side of the bed. The pause made Greg impatient. He groaned and pressed himself into the mattress, his heart beat speeding up.

I buried my face in his neck and sucked at the hot, wet skin. His pulse pounded under the skin, drawing me to the spot like a shark lurking under the water. I pressed my tongue against the pulsating skin, drawing my taste buds over it with slow precision.

Greg tensed and for a moment I worried that he was cumming already. His body arched off the bed but he relaxed and held his body against me with the same urgency. His hands moved down my body and he dug his fingers into my back. For someone so delicate looking, he seemed to want it with a lot of intensity.

His wordless actions drove me on as I drew my tongue slowly down his chest and between his pecs. Seeing it up close, I realized how much more defined he was. The loose t-shirts he wore on the show didn't do his body any justice. They merely hid the granite-like curves of his body, my finger tips stroking them slowly. Goose bumps stood up on his skin, too.

As my lips caressed his skin, I felt the fine hair on his chest. It tickled my lips and the tip of my nose. Greg inhaled and his chest expanded under my mouth, opening his pores. Sweat rolled down over his skin and onto my tongue, the salty flavor combined with the thickness of his natural musky scent drove my cock into a frenzy. Knowing that I was causing the pleasure he was feeling made my pleasure so much more intense.

Greg ran his long fingers through my hair, so gently and tenderly that it made me pause. He stroked my neck and my shoulders as I kissed my way down onto his stomach, over the curved ridges and onto the patch of dark hair around his belly button. I ran the tip of my tongue slowly over the hair, feeling the wiry curls dancing over my skin. His smell was much stronger and when I kissed his stomach, letting my tongue roll over and into his belly button, I could smell the rich headiness of his precum. It pierced the crispy red fabric of his shorts and, it too, made my mouth water.

For one panicked moment, when Greg put his hand on my cheek and moved my face away, I wondered if I'd done something wrong. Or if I'd gone too far again. I pulled my face up and looked up, not sure if Greg would be angry or embarrassed or what. I took the pause to run my fingers through my hair, mopping away some of the copious sweat.

Greg smirked, his face flushed and damp. I raised my eyebrows.

"What?"

He didn't say anything. I could only watch as he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his shorts and pulled them down. Slowly. The fabric crinkled as it moved down over his hips and down to his knees. I finished the task, pulling them off his legs and discarding them onto the floor. All of a sudden, Gregory Smith was left in nothing but a sweat dampened pair of white boxer shorts. I would have laughed if I had enough blood in my brain to do so.

Greg stroked his chest, "I'm lonely."

My brain was too addled to comprehend.

He laughed, "Take your clothes off too."

My hands shook as I unzipped my pants and pulled them down. It took a few kicks of my leg to get them fully disengaged from my person, but I succeeded none the less. A warm wave washed over me as I felt the heat touch my skin. I swallowed hard and took a deep breath, lowering myself back down onto Greg.

Our bare skin touched and I swear to God I saw stars. My vision blurred and every nerve in my body exploded at the endorphins my brain released. The pure pleasure of feeling his almost-nude body against mine was bordering on the divine. For a brief, random moment I thought back to when I'd first seen him sitting with the towel around his head - and here I was 24 hours later - doing this.

I thought of how it was the same Gregory Smith that was now half-naked underneath me, covered in sweat, hard as a rock, his wet mouth glued to the skin of my neck. That realization made me even hotter - it made me more hungry. Knowing that this was the same person that I'd talked to and tickled and acted so goofy with - it drove me in a new way.

My mouth moved back to Greg's stomach and I swirled my tongue in his belly button. He groaned and grabbed handfuls of the blankets at his side, the knowledge that I was driving him so wild making me swell in ways I didn't think possible. As I ran my finger tips across his stomach, I noticed that they weren't shaking anymore.

I moved my hands upward over his hot skin and hooked my fingers in the waistband of his boxer shorts. Greg tensed and stifled a moan before lifting his hips up to give me clearance. I swallowed hard and cast away any logic left in my brain as I began to pull his underwear down. More sweat ran down my back between my shoulder blades as the dark patch of his pubic hair came into view...

It was the sound of the hotel room door opening that brought me back to reality.

= To Be Continued ... =