Starling (Love in Los Angeles, #1)

2-3

PAUL COMES UP WITH his first pitch over a weekend alone in the house, in sweatpants with the stereo cranked up. Todd protests the throbbing bass with narrowed eyes every time Paul paces in front of his chair.

On Monday Victor looks at what he has and tells him to make it happen.

Paul practically careens out of Victor’s office to track Alex down wherever he might be skulking about the studios this time.

“Walk with me,” he says when he’s found him in an empty office, flipping through some papers. He’s wanted to do that since he fell in love with The West Wing as a kid.

Alex gathers up his papers and goes with Paul. He’s quiet, but Paul isn’t surprised. In each of their strange and brief interactions Alex has used surprisingly few words while being a surprisingly massive presence.

Paul leads them through the maze of corridors, picking a route where they’re unlikely to run into other writers. Or Victor. He watches the way Alex moves beside him, to understand his body and his secrets and where he hides his tension. “Victor decided it’s my job to figure out who he thinks you are when you’re Zach,” he says eventually. “So I need you to talk to me, about anything, I don’t care what. I just need to understand the rhythm of your voice.”

“I don’t have the job yet,” Alex says.

“Victor asked me to rebuild the rest of the season around the introduction of your character.” Paul feels sick as he says it. He doesn’t know if he has permission to reveal this secret, even to its subject. He also doesn’t know why Victor made him the messenger.

Alex doesn’t react to the news. “Zach isn’t me,” he eventually says.

“Really? It wasn’t you who was pissed off at one very choice word?”

“Can we consider that overlap aberrant?” Alex asks.

“No,” Paul says thoughtfully.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re twenty, don’t like to talk, and tossed the word aberrant at me.”

“So?”

“So that’s interesting.”

Alex makes a noise under his breath that sounds faintly like a cat hissing. “You’re as bad as Victor.”

Paul smiles. “Thanks for the compliment, but no. Talk to me?” He tells himself the query is about research and not his own growing interest. Or that outside of Victor the only person he’s talked to in days is his cat.

“About what?” Alex looks surprised but not annoyed at Paul’s persistence, which is a relief. Scaring the kid off wouldn’t do anyone any favors.

“Seen any good TV lately?”

Alex stops walking to stare at him. Paul stamps down his own excitement at the attention.

Alex’s eyes, a brown so dark they’re almost black, fix on Paul’s face. “You’re an asshole.”

“So are you.”

Alex laughs, sudden and sharp. After a beat, he shakes his head. “I have to go.”

As he walks down the corridor he gives Paul a look over his shoulder, part wary, part challenge. Paul takes a deep breath and reminds himself firmly not to be an i***t, lest he go after Alex the way he so badly wants to. He suspects the impulse is self-destructive. Any interest in Alex on his part is inappropriate. Just because he wants a challenge doesn’t mean he should inflict that desire on anyone else.

Stars have to make the first move. That’s how Hollywood works. Paul makes his way back to his office. At least he has a better sense of who and what Zach can be now.