Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
“I think I’ll take my chances in our friendship.”
Had he added that word to remind me of what we were?
“We’re all a mess, Sebastian. I don’t know anyone who isn’t. Some people hide it better than others, and some people lie to themselves more than others. That’s the only difference.”
I didn’t think he was one. At least not to the extent he thought he was.
Just as I was going to say that, Declan leaned against me. Our shoulders were touching like they were the last time we sat on a bench like this, and I was afraid to move, afraid to speak because it might make him pull away. So I just took the moment in, savored the warmth of his skin against mine and the way he smelled like palm trees and salt water.
It didn’t last long. It was maybe five minutes later, when a boy about ten approached me with his mom. “Excuse me, are you Sebastian Cole?” he asked.
I immediately sat up, pulling slightly away from Declan. “I am. What’s your name?”
“Ethan! Oh my God. I can’t believe it’s you! Can I get your autograph?”
I spoke with them for a couple of minutes, signed two napkins his mom proffered—one for each of them—then took a couple of selfies with Ethan. When I glanced up, Declan had stepped away some, standing beneath a tree, as though he didn’t want to interrupt.
A few other people at the park were watching us, so I cleared my throat and said, “Thank you, but my friend and I are going to head out. It was nice meeting you, Ethan.”
“You too!”
I hurried to Declan, who fell into step beside me.
“Sorry about that.”
“You don’t have anything to apologize for.”
“It’s hard sometimes. I don’t want to make it sound like I’m not appreciative, because I am, but…there’s a lot of pressure—I think especially because I’m queer—to be perfect all the time. To be exactly who they need me to be. To show that I’m proud of who I am but not to be too gay because then I’ll chase away my audience. Not my words or feelings, by the way. Which has nothing to do with what just happened. I guess I just needed to vent.”
“Too gay? Do they think you’re only part gay? This world is fucked up.”
Yeah, it really was. “That’s another thing I struggle with. I know I’m really fucking lucky. I’m an out gay man who makes action movies and has a wide audience. How can I want to step away from that? How many people would love to be in my position?”
“Yeah, but you also have to worry about not being overly yourself for fear that what? You’ll lose the CisHet male audience? Could one of your characters ever have a male love interest?”
No, no they couldn’t.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to be a dick.”
“No, you’re fine. You didn’t say anything I don’t know myself.” And it sucked, but I didn’t want to think about it right then. I just wanted to have a nice day with Declan. “I think my next surprise is even cooler.”
Declan smiled. “I guess we better go, then.”
“Yes, I guess we better.”
* * *
“Holy shit. We have a castle in Los Angeles?” Declan said as I parked at the Lummis House.
“Aha! Now I know you really haven’t been here! That reaction was too real.”
“Maybe I’m a good actor too.” He winked, and I frowned. Was he shitting me or not?
Declan laughed. “No, I haven’t been here.”
“You said that about the canals too.”
“Maybe I hadn’t been there.”
“But maybe you have.”
“You made the rules to this game. Don’t forget that.”
We got out and made our way to the museum. Declan grabbed a pamphlet, flipping through the pages and reading aloud about how the stone structure had been built by an author, activist, and historian named Charles F. Lummis. He’d been a student at Harvard but dropped out in 1884, and then had decided it was a good idea to walk from Cincinnati to Los Angeles.
“Yeah, I don’t think I’d ever do that,” Declan said.
“You and me both.”
“It says he’d gotten a job as a reporter for the LA Times. He apparently really did walk here, and he wrote letters detailing the adventure. Sounds like our Mr. Lummis was an eccentric. He then decided he wanted to live in a castle. Since there weren’t a whole bunch of them around, he built this one out of stones he got out of the river. This can’t be true.”
He closed the book, and I laughed. “Clearly, it is.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“Pessimist, are you?” I teased.
“What was your first clue?”
The tour was free and thankfully not very busy. I kept my cap on, and no one seemed to notice me as we explored the house and the gardens. We took the time to study every piece of history and fact about Lummis.