Star Bright

Chapter 2-1

Chapter 2

[Tumblr post with photo of Rafael Reyes and Julian Gault kissing at the Constellation Gala]

the-gossipmonger: but Julian isn’t gay! Is he??? could i have missed that somehow????

madamgault: he pretty much just doesn’t date?? i mean, apparently he does now, but he hasn’t dated since Ellie Tanning in 2012.

noblebloodmagic: #a certain faction of his fandom has always insisted he was still pining over her #all this time #which i always knew was bullshit OF COURSE ITS BULLSHIT DID YOU REALLY THINK A MAN AS PRETTY AS JULIAN GAULT WAS GONNA BE STRAIGHT [tears emoji]

distant-kingdom-lover: the one i’m worried about is rafi, he just broke up with bo like a month ago, there’s no way he’s ready to date again already. a guy like julian gault is gonna eat him alive. rafi, honey, i am begging you to get therapy. BEGGING.

* * * *

Is it wind, is it gravity

That drives the restless waves

Pushes them forward, pulls them away

Why do the waters roar

Reach out, reach out for more

(I walk the beach in moonlight, remembering the sun)

We crash upon the shore, we crash upon the shore

—“Beach Song,” from Epicurious by Distant Kingdom

* * * *

Rafael might have been tempted to write off the whole interlude—Julian Gault rescuing him like a white knight, escorting him to a gala, kissing him behind a weeping willow—as a dream. Really, it was embarrassing to think his subconscious would even come up with something so shameless and far-fetched. But there was photographic evidence, which of course was all over the internet within hours, followed by legions of fans hounding him for answers. Along with his best friend.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Amber,” Rafi said, not for the first time that day. “He asked for my phone number, but he hasn’t called. I don’t have his.”

“You didn’t ask for it?”

“I didn’t have a chance. Apparently he arranged cars for us during dinner, but—not the same car. He rode off into the night in a white limousine.”

“After tickling your tonsils for no apparent reason.”

“Oh, he had a reason. Riling up his uncle, if nothing else, though I’m not sure what stake his uncle has in his romantic relationships anyway.”

Amber grunted, moving about in Rafi’s kitchen like she owned it. To be fair, she probably spent more time there than Rafi did. The cook hadn’t come in this week, so the fridge held little more than condiments and beer, but Amber had managed to put together a sandwich. “Uncle Eddie has a rep as a control freak, so there’s a viable explanation right there. Oh, crap, this guy’s not underage, is he?”

“No! He’s twenty-one.” Rafi had checked Julian’s IMDB just to be sure, since the last character he’d seen Julian play had, in fact, been a teenager. They were only four years apart. “Now hush, I have to talk to these people about my car.”

By the time he did hear from Julian, it was nearly midnight. Amber had long since gone home, Jean-Paul had reclaimed his costume, the car was out of impound and on its way to the body shop, and Rafi was climbing into bed—when his text chime went off. Unfamiliar number.

Meet me at Shasta Beach tomorrow, 10 am. We’ll talk specifics.

Rafi debated leaving it unanswered until morning, out of spite, but realized he didn’t actually know whether it was Julian or some deranged fan who had gotten his number. ‘Is this Julian Gault?’ would probably get a ‘yes’ whether it was true or not, so Rafi tried another tack.

Is this the pushy jerk’s nephew?

A long pause, and then, just as Rafi was turning out his bedside lamp: Yes. I hope your slit wrist is healing well.

Proof enough. Rafi saved the number as ‘Pea c**k’ and went to bed.