Out Of Focus (Wattys 2023)

25. OK, So This Is Bad But Also Kind Of Good.

Both of the men's eyes widen. "Uh, how about that second option?" Shayne asks, his question met with another glare from the older and tired woman.

"You'll both like and hate option two," Penelope says.

"We're listening," Oliver adds, settling back into his seat next to Shayne, reaching over to interlock their fingers.

Shayne is pretty sure this is the boldest fuck you he's witnessed in his life. Whoever this Oliver Henderson is that skated as a kid, takes him to weird diners, texts him at inappropriate times, and gives him kisses that make his heart nearly stop he'll take him.

"OK option two," Penelope says, eying their joined hands. "I've changed my sheets and requested clean ones so I'll leave and guard the floor for a few hours, you two get this out of your system, and then I do damage control while you both stay a very safe distance apart until this show is finished. I'll come up with an excuse to keep Shayne as barely involved in the rest of this as possible, and you focus on convincing these ladies you still actually care."

It's a monologue at this point, and both Shayne and Oliver's mouths fall open in response. Shayne has a lot of questions, but Oliver asks the biggest one.

"Um Pen," Oliver says. "Get it out of our system?"

Penelope sighs. "I don't get paid enough to spell that out for you. You've auditioned for enough of this kind of romance flicks. You know exactly what I mean."

Shayne looks mortified and for the first time since they've gotten to the room, Penelope Suarez smiles like the damned Cheshire Cat.

"I'll be back at midnight," Penelope says. "Please be dressed."

"But what if I wanna go with option one?" Oliver asks.

Before he can say much else or protest, Penelope's out the door, closing it and locking it.

Oliver and Shayne find themselves alone, their hearts pounding in their chests as they face a big question mark. The weight of the situation hangs in the air.

Shayne turns to Oliver, his eyes searching for something, permission maybe, or maybe an answer. "Are we going to do this?" he asks.

Oliver's gaze softens as he cups Shayne's cheek, his thumb gently brushing against his skin. "We have a chance. I'm tired of letting it slip away. So fuck it."

A shiver runs down Shayne's spine at Oliver's touch, his doubts slowly dissolving in the warmth of their shared desire.

"OK," he whispers, his voice barely audible, but filled with a newfound determination.

With a mixture of eagerness and trepidation, they stand, their bodies drawn to each other as if pulled by an invisible force. Their lips meet in a tender kiss, a slow and deliberate exploration of the emotions that have been simmering beneath the surface.

It starts with gentle brushes, their lips tentatively touching, as if testing the waters of their newfound connection. But the sparks ignite, and soon the kiss deepens, their mouths melding together in a passionate dance.

Shayne's fingers find their way to Oliver's hair, tangling in the soft strands as he pulls him closer, craving the taste and touch of the man who's driven him to this absolute insanity. Oliver's arms wrap around Shayne's waist, pulling him tightly against his body (and their bodies make it obvious they NEED not WANT this).

Their lips part, and they both gasp for air, their eyes locked in an unspoken agreement.

I guess we're doing this then, they say.

They shed their morals and guilt, clothes falling to the floor like discarded worries, leaving them exposed and vulnerable, yet utterly alive.

In the quiet darkness of the hotel room, they explore each other's bodies, mapping out the contours of pleasure and vulnerability. Every kiss, every touch, carries something; more likely an escape from the fake reality they've both been forced to swallow.