Leo believed in him, too. Had believed in him—even when they’d barely met—enough to give him this chance, to arrange it.
Leo believed in him as an artist and as a person: someone worth helping, kissing, loving. Leo trusted him: in bed, waking up, sharing the emotions that hid inside that giant heart.
For a moment he let himself feel it all, have it all, want it all.
This life. These possibilities. Everything he’d ever wanted. Everything he’d never even dreamed of wanting, back before he’d met Leo, learned the feel of Leo’s mouth against his, memorized the sensation of Leo draped all over him while falling asleep.
Standing in a beige hotel hallway over a flat plain carpet—Leo had been whisked away by makeup and prep persons, readying him for cameras—Sam ended up smiling.
His phone made
