Chapter Six
Darcy had no idea what possessed him to say yes to Michael’s invitation. Perhaps it was because Michael seemed genuinely contrite, although his story was the weirdest he’d ever heard. And for his industry, that was saying a lot.
It was such a relief to walk around in his tennies and jeans, he didn’t even mind the chill of a Stellarton summer night. They were east of downtown, where the docks had been gentrified. It would be a quick bus ride across town to home.
He followed Michael into a small dessert bar, where he was pleased to see quite a few items on the menu that wouldn’t make him feel guilty for eating. “The berry yogurt swirl,” he ordered.
“I’ll have a cherry vanilla single scoop,” Michael told the pretty young girl behind the counter.
“Are those together?” She looked at Michael expectantly.
Before Darcy could say no, Michael said, “Yes,” and brandished his debit card. He glanced at Darcy and added, “Please, it’s the least I can do.”
That sounded reasonable enough, and Darcy gave a brief nod.
They sat inside, in front of a window overlooking the harbour, which sparkled with lights from the city. “I guess you can’t tell me much about your role on the show,” Michael said, “but is there stuff you can talk about? Like which character is yours getting the most screen time with? Can you even talk about your character?”
Darcy grinned. Michael seemed a sincere fan, without being an over-the-top fandom enthusiast. The squealing near-hysteria of some of the fans terrified him and he wasn’t even the subject of it, at least not yet. Season four wouldn’t start airing until next week, so none of the current fans knew who he was.
“My character ran into Shelter Cove to hide from some very bad people. And he’s desperate enough to pass as a woman. He gets hired as a waitress at the Buoy.”
“Oh, cool! Wait—The Buoy owned by LeBaron? Who brags about screwing all his waitresses?”
Darcy chuckled. “Yeah. My character has an element of comic relief, as the viewers will all be in-the-know about his true gender. I’ve been given an overall season arc, but I can’t really go into my role as such.”
“I understand. Besides, I wouldn’t want spoilers.” Michael grinned at him.
He was an attractive man, Darcy supposed. Clean cut, square-jaw, coppery brown waves across the top of his head. His eyes looked to be a gold-flecked green. He had a summer tan that made his teeth seem whiter when he smiled. Even in conversation, his gestures and movement had a grace that told him Michael was a dancer.
“What about you? What other projects are you working on?”
“Oh.” Michael’s face flushed. “You know that play, Bite Me!?”
Darcy grinned. It was a ridiculous play that was ridiculously popular. “At the Mermaid Theatre?”
“Yeah. I’m assistant choreographer, though, so it’s worth it.”
Darcy raised both hands, holding his spoon between his index and little finger, the stem braced on the back of his middle fingers. “No judgment.”
Michael blinked at him, his grin fading.
“What?” Darcy asked.
“N-nothing, sorry.” His smile returned full force, and their conversation returned to the video shoot, Plan Chromatic’s infectious music, and Randy North’s relentless perfectionism.
When the pretty young girl came to their table and said, “Sorry, guys, it’s closing time,” Darcy’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Oh!” Michael gave Darcy an apologetic look. “Sorry. Can I walk you to a bus stop?”
Darcy grinned. “Sure. I think there’s only one bus comes out here, anyway. I live on Monroe, behind the CAD,” he said, calling the college of art and design by its acronym. “The part they call Starving Artists’ Alley.”
Michael’s eyes lit up. “That’s amazing. I just live around the corner on Graffiti Row.” He held the door of the shop open for Darcy and said, “Since we live so close to each other, do you want to share a cab?”
Darcy gave him a sidelong look as the cool night air ruffled his hair and raised goosebumps on his skin.
Before he could agree, Michael added almost apologetically, “It’ll get you home sooner, since you’ve got to be up early in the morning.” He held up his phone, his thumb hovering as if he already had the cab number pulled up.
Darcy smiled at Michael’s tone. It was hardly his fault it was now midnight. “True. Sure.”
Darcy’s building was closer, according to Google Maps, so that was the address they gave the cab driver. When the cab pulled up to the muraled block, Michael already had a twenty out.
Darcy tried to protest, but a quick check of his wallet showed he had no cash on hand. “Next time, it’s on me.”
As the cab drove away, Michael grinned. “If I’m going to hold you to that, you better give me your number.”
Darcy tugged his phone from his hip pocket and recited his number. One day, he’d memorize it.
“Okay, sending you a text so you have mine.”
As if on cue, Darcy’s phone buzzed softly. “Got it.” He’d add the number in the morning, on the way to the set.
Michael half turned away, then evidently changed his mind. “Um, can I, I mean, would it be okay if I kissed you?”
“What? Why?” Darcy took a half step backwards in alarm.
Michael immediately raised his hands in a surrender gesture. “No, no. It’s just to help me set in my mind you’re a guy. I’m straight, but you know, it’d help me get over my phantom lover sooner,” he said with a grin. “No is a perfectly reasonable answer.”
It was a weird request, but then hadn’t he already established that Michael was weird? His explanation sounded shaky, but Darcy wasn’t an expert on phantom lovers, or any kind of lovers, really. At least Michael was asking this time.
“Um. Okay. I guess.”
Michael approached him slowly and put a hand on each shoulder. As he lowered his head, Darcy lifted his chin. Not that he wanted a kiss, not from Michael, not from anyone. But facilitating it would see it done and over with all the sooner.
Michael’s lips were warm against his and didn’t press hard, not like the violent kiss he’d planted on Darcy before.
“Was that okay?” Michael asked as he let go of Darcy’s shoulders.
Darcy shrugged. “It was not entirely unpleasant,” he said truthfully.
Michael walked briskly down the street, hugging himself for warmth. He didn’t look back because he had no idea what the fuck had possessed him to ask another dude for a kiss. Part of it was about reassuring himself that the Darcy he’d fantasized about for the past year really didn’t exist, but part of him had still wanted to pull Darcy close and kiss him properly. He didn’t even have trouble with the pronoun now—Darcy had definitely become him after that two-hour-long chat.
Unfortunately, Darcy still possessed those amazing brown eyes and they’d threatened to make him forget what he was talking about, every time he got caught in them. How crazy was it that he’d spent over a year looking for him and he was just two blocks away? You just need to spend more time with him.
That sounded almost sensible to him.
Of course, it didn’t explain why he still imagined Darcy’s naked back and the curve of his ass when he jerked off in the shower, but he didn’t have any trouble sleeping that night.