Waiting Outside The Lines (boyxboy)

Waiting Outside The Lines Part 2 (BoyxBoy)

"Waiting Outside The Lines 2"

Don't think that it never crosses my mind. The pointlessness of getting up in the morning, taking a long, hot, shower, and getting myself all squeaky clean...just to come to "The Walking Dead" set and have make-up artists do their best to get me all visibly dirty again. Hehehe! But that's the job, I suppose. At least I get to feel neat and tidy on the drive up there.

I sit in a chair in my grimey wardrobe clothes, have my hair fashionably tossed about, and let them use pads and brushes to smear dirt all over me again. You know, if I was a crafty little 5 year old again, I might actually get a kick out of something like that.

Not as much today, though. Because...well...maybe I'm getting ahead of myself here..but I thought Greyson might want to come visit me again soon. So I kind of want to look my best, you know? Not...well, not like this. I've never heard anybody say, "Wow! He looks dirty and smelly and like he's been rolling around in the mud for the last 48 hours! That's soooo sexy!" But, whatever. I'm acting. I'm sure he'll get it.

Don't get me wrong, there's a tiny little skeptic in the back of my mind that's constantly trying to reason with me about what happened a few days ago. Thinking that maybe the whole thing was a fluke. Greyson's so sweet and so polite, that he probably wouldn't have an angry word to say to anybody, even to some strange boy who decided to lunge forward and kiss him on the lips one afternoon without asking. It might have just been a one time thing. It might have just been my infatuated heart making up signals that weren't there. The most severe form of wishful thinking. I'm SURE that I'm not the first gay teenager to fall for that pretty smile.

What makes me so special? It had been days and no word from him. I couldn't help but to start the worrying process over whether or not anything was going to come from that one little incident by the lake. I mean, I gave him a kiss and a sandwich. That's hardly a dowry worthy of boy to boy marriage.

And yet...even when in doubt, I think about his smile, and the glimmer in his eyes, and the gentle shade of pink in his blush...and this totally illogical rush of emotion floods into my heart, quickly spreading to every part of me. I find it hard to concentrate on anything other than trying not to giggle out loud when that happens. But I try my hardest so the rest of the folks on set won't think that I've completely lost my marbles. It was a lot harder than you would think. Something about that memory, something about wondering if he's thinking about me too...it just tickled me under the ribs and refused to go away. The sensation would catch me by surprise sometimes, and it made me feel lighter than air.

I just wish he'd call. I really really wish he would call.

Asa was in the make-up trailer with me this morning. Sitting not more than a few feet away from me in a make-up chair of his own. He was playing a handheld video game at the time, and the game screen seemed to cause his stunning blue eyes to glow even brighter than normal.

I was staring at him. I don't think I meant to. He's just...sort of 'pretty' to look at, so your gaze gets stuck on him sometimes and won't pull away. But as I watched them fix his hair and all...my mind began to wander. It was like picking at a scab, to be honest. It sucks and it stings a little, but it quickly becomes so addictive. I just couldn't stop thinking about Asa and Chandler being alone together. Keeping their dirty little secret from the rest of the world, and having the time of their lives doing it. Every single time they magically vanished from the site, I felt this little hole in my heart being stretched out just a little bit wider. I wanted to see. I really did. Hell, whenever they came back, I wanted to French kiss Asa just so I could know what Chandler tasted like. It was always the same when they returned to set. Slightly out of breath, big smiles on their faces, and a shine that came from the thinnest sheen of sweat. Relaxed. Mellowed out. Happy. I think they were doing a bit more with each other now than what I first saw through that open window. They just seemed more 'connected' now. Sometimes, just a silly glance exchanged between them across the table during one of our lunch breaks could speak volumes. I eventually had to start eating at another table just to keep myself from getting obsessed with the ache of it all.