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I sat down and got to work, trying desperately to ignore Nine as he began moving around the clearing mounting his cameras. I certainly did not look at his bubble butt when he was up on that ladder.
When he got everything where he wanted it, he pulled out his own laptop and took a spot on the log next to me. I glanced at his screen to see him pulling up remote feeds for the cameras. He spent some time resetting each one until he got it just right. After he returned to the log, he typed some more. It was kind of cute watching his big overgrown frame hunched over the tiny computer. His fingers were like sausages on the delicate keys.
“We should take a video,” I said, clearing my throat. “Like… like an introduction of ourselves to our followers. My followers don’t know you, and yours don’t know me.”
He didn’t say anything or even look up. His forehead creased as he stared at something on his screen. I felt his entire body tense up right in front of me.
“Are you even listening to me?”
He glanced up at me, and I noticed his scowl was tempered by the worry in his eyes. “Sorry.”
“What’s wrong?” I scooted over so I could see his screen better. He had his email pulled up, and it was full of vile homophobic slurs from shocked and pissed-off Nine fans. “Oh shit.”
“It’s fine.” He moved the cursor to select the entire column and hit the delete button. “There, gone.”
I grasped his arm. “Isaac…”
He shook his head. “No, really. I expected this. I don’t even read email from fans normally. In fact, I usually have it set to send any fan emails straight to the trash folder, but… I did this tutorial on how to install window flashing on oddball window shapes, and it was kind of complicated. I told people they could email me if they had trouble with it.”
He seemed so deflated. I leaned my head onto his broad shoulder and squeezed his arm even tighter. “You’re a good man. I’m sorry you’re getting unfairly painted with the gay brush or whatever.”
He slammed the top of his laptop a little too hard. “No, dammit. That’s not fair. It’s not fair that someone can just… can just call you names for being the way you are, whether that’s tall or short, or Spanish or Indian, or… or…”
“Gay or straight?” I smiled up at him in hopes of calming him down.
Nine reached up and used the tip of a finger to brush the hair off my eye. “You don’t deserve this.”
I blinked at him in surprise. “Those aren’t my emails.”
“No. But all I would have to do is hit Reply and say it’s fake. Then I get to go on living my life as a straight man and it’s fine. But for you… there is no getting out of it. That’s what makes it unfair. It just is what it is. And why do people fucking care? I mean… why do they care who I sleep with in the first place?”
I snorted out a laugh. “They care because they wish it was them.”
Now it was his turn to be surprised. “I’m just a redneck nobody.”
“Hardly. You’re sexy as fuck. Didn’t we talk about this already? You’re like a walking wet dream, lumberjack-style.”
For a split second, I regretted saying something that might make things even more awkward between us in bed at night, but then I saw the red streaks down his neck and thought it was worth it just to see that blush.
“Anyway,” I said with a sigh. “I’m sorry you had to see the horrible side of people. Homophobia sucks. And not in the good way.”
I sat up straight and stretched my shoulders. “Come on. Let’s make those videos like I said. Then we’ll figure something out for lunch, and I’ll let you talk me into some manual labor afterwards.” I stood up and reached for his hand to pull him up, which was comical since he was so much bigger than I was. He chuckled at my attempt. “Where’s that fancy camera you talked about? That bad boy needs to start earning its keep.”
The mention of his new camera did the trick. His body relaxed and his smile returned. “Hell yeah. Let me grab it. I have a tripod too. Maybe we can do it sitting on the log here. It’s kind of a nice backdrop with the trees and the columns of sunlight through the trees.”
A few minutes later we were all set up, but I could see the nerves coming back. I tried to think of something I could do or say that would help.
I snapped my fingers. “You ever heard of method acting?”
He crinkled his forehead. “Um, maybe? But I’m not sure what it is.”
