Ship It(70)

Not Smokey. Me.

She can do that?

I hate everything about this. I hate what I think she might say, I hate that she’s thinking about me like that at all, but most of all, I hate that somehow she’s dragged Jasper Graves into it. This is way, way over the line.

But I have to read it to know just how over the line it is. So I set my jaw and start reading.


FOREST WALKED THE short distance back to his trailer, dreaming of the moment he’d get to kick off Smokey’s ridiculous boots and tight-ass jeans and slide into a pair of sweats and sleep all day until tomorrow’s late afternoon call.

As his trailer came into view, he yawned, but he wasn’t too exhausted to gaze at the pink blot of sky on the horizon. Sure, North Carolina was remote and full of rednecks, but it also had some of the most marvelous sunrises Forest had ever seen.

“Mr. Reed!” It always bothered Forest that the PAs here called him that, but North Carolina was in the South and no matter how many times he told them to call him Forest, their upbringing just wouldn’t allow it.

Forest looked over to see his favorite PA running (they were always running) toward him. Lynn was endlessly friendly, whether it was midday or four a.m., and never batted an eye, even when the 1st AD—a grumpy old dude in an ancient Yankees hat with no patience—snapped at her for something that was barely her fault.

“Your Dairy Queen,” Lynn said in her folksy North Carolina accent. She reached him, out of breath, and held up a paper bag.

“Oh, I didn’t order—”

“I did.” Forest turned to see Rico walking up to them. Rico took the bag from Lynn, who nodded at him and scampered away toward her next task. “Happy birthday, bud,” Rico said, slapping Forest’s back lightly.

He remembered. In fact, Rico was the only one who had.

“What are you now, sixteen, seventeen?” Rico added with a chortle. Forest winced. The eleven-year age gap between them seemed endlessly funny to Rico, but to Forest it just reminded him how inexperienced he was, comparatively.

“I’m twenty-four,” Forest said, with a little grit in his voice that made Rico shape up.

“I know,” Rico said. “Look, I figured you wouldn’t want to make a big deal out of it, so I told the producers no cake, no singing, no full-crew shenanigans. Just you and me and two Peanut Buster Parfaits.”

And something about the way he said “you and me” made Forest’s heart twang.

Me and him.

A team.

“Now, you gonna invite me in before these melt?” Rico asked with a friendly jab at Forest’s upper arm. He could feel the phantom touch linger after Rico pulled away. The shadow of contact.

Forest shrugged casually. “All right, come in.”

Rico and Forest had been close since the first day of the pilot, before they even knew if they had a series. They had been partners: Rico, joking around, chatting with everyone, playing tricks on the camera crew, and Forest, laughing at his pranks, delighted to be on the inside, letting someone show off for him. It felt good to have someone he could trust. A scene partner, a teammate, a friend.

But outside of work, they didn’t spend time together. Rico liked to go out with the crew and cast on his nights off—big group dinners or bar-hopping excursions or karaoke parties. Forest had gone a couple times, but always ended up begging off early; the loud bars and laughing groups were too much for him. He had always hoped Rico knew it wasn’t personal.

Once, late on a Saturday night, alone in his apartment, he had started a text to Rico, telling him what his friendship meant to Forest. Halfway through typing, he had seen ellipses pop up on Rico’s end…. Rico was typing to him. Forest had stopped typing and waited. And waited. He fell asleep on the couch, his phone on his chest, still waiting. The next morning he checked his phone: no text. He deleted what he had written, never asked Rico about it. Forest assumed it had been a mistake.

But he wondered. Did Rico feel the same pang when a day went by without a scene between them? Did he think of Forest when he went home at night? Were his incessant jokes a smokescreen for his feelings? Or was it possible that Rico was just as friendly and flirty with everyone as he was with Forest? Forest had no measure of what was in Rico’s head, and it killed him, the not knowing. It was impossible to tell if Rico liked him in particular or if he just liked people.

So tonight, with Rico waiting to be invited into his trailer after hours, the sunset glinting pink off his skin like cosmic rouge, felt special. Rico wanted him alone—there was no misreading that, was there? It was a private party, just for them. It felt like progress.

Which is why, when Forest opened the door to his trailer and stepped inside, saw what Rico had done, it hit him extra hard. This wasn’t a play to get Forest alone, this was simply a cruel, personal practical joke.

Every inch of the inside of Forest’s trailer was wallpapered in full-color pictures of Jasper Graves.


I SHOVE THE laptop away in disgust. The fanfiction was one thing, but this is completely over the line. I told her one time—one time—that I thought Jasper Graves was handsome, and now I get this crap? Am I supposed to never tell her anything personal again in case it ends up online in one of her stories as some sort of “evidence” of my gayness? I feel the anger curl into a knot in my stomach. I can’t keep reading this, but I need to know how it ends. I need to know what else she put in there.