Page 43 of The Hopelessly Bromantic Duet

His reply is swift.My work here is done. Also, when you get your Oscar, you will thank me for running the lines that got you your breakout gig. Though, sure, add in the music bit too. Why not make me sound even more awesome?!

TJ’s already wildly encouraging of my creative dreams. I suppose it shouldn’t bother me that he hasn’t told me he’s writing a novel. Every man has to reveal himself in his own time and way.

When I exit the tube, there’s a text from Olivia flashing at me.Where are you? I’m in the city. Just rode George and his royal package again. Want to get a tea?

I call her back instead of texting. “More than anything, but I’m meeting TJ right now.”

“Ohhhhhhhh.”

“I asked him to meet me in Hyde Park,” I add.

“How romantic,” she says.

I sigh as I dodge past a pack of tourists wearing matching Wicked T-shirts and doing their best to belt “Defying Gravity.”

“We’re meeting to run my lines and practice for my callback tomorrow. Did George’s royal cock make you forget about me?”

“No, but apparently, thoughts of TJ’s cock make you forget me,” she counters.

I throw my head back, laughing. “Love, I could never forget you.”

“And my other point?”

“I’m not thinking about his cock. Not much, that is.”

“But enough that you asked him to run lines and not me.”

“Well, he lives with me. And you live an hour away.”

“Excuses, excuses. But why are you meeting him in the park instead of your flat?”

“I wanted to do it someplace with lots of people around, since that’s how the callback will be,” I say. “Lots of people.”

“You creatives are so weird.”

“Says my fellow actor.”

“And this fellow actor thinks there’s another reason you’re meeting him in the park.”

“And what do you think that reason is?” I ask, curious what she’s getting at.

“Hmm. Shall I tell you? I think not.”

“You’re evil,” I say.

“That is true. Have fun with your hot roomie and his hot accent and your filthy thoughts about his royal American cock,” she says. “I bet it’s as big as Texas.”

“Ride ’em, cowboy.”

After we hang up, her words linger—the ones about meeting TJ in the park. Do I have some subconscious reason for meeting him here? If so, I’d quite appreciate it if my brain revealed it to me since Olivia didn’t.

But those thoughts drift away into the afternoon air when I spot a familiar pair of shoulders above a park bench, just like I imagined yesterday when I told him I could picture him on a park bench, reading.

And wait... is that one of his new shirts?

Damn, I have good taste, in clothes and men.

TJ looks delicious, and my pulse surges when I get closer to him. He’s readingMurder on the Orient Express.Looks like he’s near the end.