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“I’m taking five,” Tom said, a tight smile stretching across his lips as he accepted his phone back from Gail. A guy does one take with his iPhone in frame, and suddenly, he’s not trusted to keep it on him anymore. Or maybe it was taking a selfie on set one time too many… In Tom’s defence, nobody had been looking at the monster. They'd all been looking at him.
Tapping into his messages was second nature as Tom slid past crew and waiting talent, sidestepping an intern who looked caught between asking for an autograph and spontaneously combusting. There was always one. Tom got it; meeting the Tom Ryder was a memorable experience. Still, the kid had a job to do. And he was blocking traffic.
Tom made a quick exit past a lingering gaggle of makeup artists, flashing a toothy grin to his co-star as she sat to have her make-up reapplied yet again. He didn’t envy her; sitting through endless SFX makeup was the worst.
The cold night air hit him hard enough to take his breath away after hours under hot lights. They had been filming inside for hours; it was easy to forget how the heat from so many lights and cameras and bodies could build, and build, and build over time.
He tugged at the edge of his shirt, reaching up to swipe at his sweat-streaked face before he remembered. Makeup smeared across his artfully grubby white tee.
“Damn it.” That was at least another half hour in hair and makeup he had just doomed himself to. Fingers clenched around his phone. If he was going to have to spend even longer in there, he at least deserved a drink and a few more minutes to himself.
It was easy enough to find the craft table pushed back against the wall, unsurprisingly empty considering the time of night. Tom snatched a bottle of water, bypassing the remaining food – he wasn’t about to lower himself to a granola bar if he didn’t have to – as he retreated to a set of nearby steps, sitting heavily on the cold concrete.
He opened his phone again, tapping through to his newest contact. A smile tugged at his mouth before he could decide what to do about it. Ryland Grace was proving to be a man who was difficult to pin down.
Cancelling their first date had, admittedly, technically, been Tom’s fault. A scene had run late, and the cost of adding an extra day to the end of filming far outweighing Tom’s insistence that he had somewhere else he needed to be. Even Gail had told him that, just this once, it might be better – for his reputation as a team player, as the kind of star directors wanted to work with – to suck it up and keep working. By the time he had wrapped for the night, Ryland had, apparently, already fallen asleep while grading – or so he had explained via apologetic text the next morning.
It was the rearranging that was still proving to be a problem.
Saturday had already been spoken for on Ryland’s part, as had Sunday. Tom’s suggestion that maybe they could do Monday had been met with a laugh; he hadn’t quite had the nerve to admit that he had been serious.
Tom pulled up their text thread, anticipation rising in his chest. It had been a long time since he last went to a premiere with anyone but his co-star on his arm, or his publicist at his side. It wasn’t one of his best roles – more arthouse than big budget, something Gail had said would do wonders to grow his fanbase, and for his profile. It had been stuck in post-production limbo for longer than Tom cared to remember. But, it was finally set to come out. Normally, his agent wouldn’t be keen on him promoting one movie while still filming for another, but this was apparently an exception.
Scrolling through their messages, Tom read back through their most recent message history.
Sent: 10:01 – Hey, how’s your day going? You surviving without me or are those middle schoolers giving you trouble? Say the word and I can have a car there in ten. Playing hooky for one day can’t hurt.
Seen: 10:02
Sent: 13:11 – My stunt double is actually trying to kill me today I swear. Somebody needs to tell this guy he hasn’t got the face for the silver screen, just the body.
Seen: 15:42
Sent: 13:13 – Not Colt! Totally not talking about Colt. That was some other stuntman. Different guy. Definitely. You don’t know him.
Seen: 15:42
Sent: 16:55 – So… any more thoughts about Friday? Or do you still need to check your “schedule”? Let me know.
Seen: 20:08
No new messages.
Tom tried dragging his thumb across the screen, tugging it up until the message thread refreshed. Maybe it was being slow? It was time he upgraded – hadn’t the new iPhone come out nearly two weeks ago? Someone really should have sent him a replacement already. Or maybe it was terrible signal on set; it wouldn’t put it past them to try jamming it again or something.
He couldn’t think of another reason why Ryland wouldn’t have messaged him back. He was Tom freaking Ryder. People didn’t leave him on read.
Lips pressed into a thin line. He took another swig of his water, not stopping until the entire thing was almost empty. An increasing ache had been building behind his eyes for hours, and he really didn’t have time for that. He tugged on the hem of his t-shirt, shuddering at the wave of cool air that slipped beneath. He hadn’t realised how hot he was getting, either.
I should call. Should I call? I shouldn’t call. That would seem desperate. He’s the one who chose the date. I mean, sure, I postponed the first time, but everything else is on him. Thoughts swirled around and around in Tom’s head before, at last, before he could second-guess himself any longer, he tapped the call icon.
His phone began to ring.
And ring.
And ring.
“Hi, this is–”
Tom’s back straightened, attention snapping into place. “Hey, Ry. It’s Tom, but you already knew–”
“–Dr Ryland Grace. I can’t come to the phone right now. I’m either teaching, grading, or – well, trying to fix something I’ve broken. Again. Please leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”
The beep sounded soon after. Tom stared down at the screen blankly. Ryland let him go to voicemail? Him? Really? Tom’s jaw clenched, something tight and uncomfortable rising in his chest. It didn’t make any sense. Could… could something have happened to him? Should he ask Colt? He wrinkled his nose at the thought of asking Colt anything that wasn’t related to a contractual obligation.
Tom glanced back at his phone again. Maybe, just this once, he could play nice with Seavers. For Ryland. He stood, intent on heading back inside, when his phone began to buzz in his hand.
Calling incoming: Dr Ryland Grace.
For a second, he didn’t move. Then he fumbled to accept the call.
“Hello?” Ryland’s voice came through, slightly breathless, like he’d just moved from one room to another. “Hi, uh – Tom?”
Tom straightened instinctively, hand moving to his hair, brushing back the artfully windswept blond locks before wincing. Great. Now he would have hair and makeup on his case about that, too. “Hey. Yeah. Hi. Hi, yeah, I’m – yeah.”
A pause. Tom’s mind went blank.
Ryland spoke again. “I saw that I missed a call. Did you need something? Is everything alright with Colt?”
Stupid Colt-freaking-Seavers.
“Yeah – no, yes. I mean, yeah, it’s fine. Colt is… fine.” Tom ran a hand through his hair again, already regretting his tone. He could play it cool. He could. Ryland was just a guy. Just an incredibly hot, kind of nerdy, sweet, genius level, absolutely clueless guy. “Are you okay? Your messages didn’t come through. I thought maybe your phone was – like – doing a thing. Or you were having connection problems. Or maybe I am; this thing is practically ancient. That happens, right?”
“Oh.” Ryland’s laugh was small, slightly confused. “No, I don’t think so. I’ve been teaching all day. I haven’t sent you anything.”
Tom blinked. “You… haven’t?”
“No?” Another pause, like Ryland was no longer confused, just processing. “Should I have?”
Biting his lip, Tom took a steadying breath. Right. He was doing it again. That thing Gail always warned him about. He was being too much. Fingers curled around the device, cradling it against his cheek. “No. No, of course not. It’s just… kinda late to still be teaching. Or do you moonlight teaching night school too?” Tom asked teasingly.
He already knew that Ryland didn’t. He had a guy – well, no, Gail had a guy – who checked on anyone Tom even showed remote interest in. No more big scandals while filming for him.
The report had been thin, but interesting. Dr Ryland Grace. PhD. Orphan, with one remaining family member: his twin brother, Colt Seavers. Middle school science teacher. Former molecular biologist with a very carefully worded “professional transition” from academia and research to teaching after what could only be described as a professional temper tantrum. That alone would have been enough to pique Tom’s curiosity.
Since, there had been no new published papers. No more scandals. Just a conspicuously clean line between what he had been and what he was now. And, according to the notes Gail’s guy had added in the margins, a mouth on him when he forgot to be careful with it. Which, for reasons Tom was trying very hard not to examine too closely, had stuck with him more than it should have.
“Uh… no. I don’t teach at night. I’m usually done by mid-afternoon. I just had grading to finish.” Through the line, Tom could hear the faint rustling of papers. Was Ryland still working? That was dedication. Maybe he should send him something – coffee? Everyone loved coffee. Starbucks probably still delivered at that hour, right? Or one of those smoothie places that claimed to make vegetables taste like dessert. That sounded like something Ryland would like – indulgent, but good for him.
Yeah. Tom could find something like that.
“That’s alright. I totally get that; I’m still working, too. Just thought I'd call quickly between takes to get your address for Friday night,” Tom said as he put Ryland on speakerphone. A few taps later, and he had the name of that smoothie shop he liked pulled up, ready to place an order. He flicked through their other offerings, lip curling at the rows upon rows of granola bars and veggie wraps, before finally selecting one of each variant of vegan brownies. There: chocolate – romantic, check; vegan – health conscious, caring, check; and expensive. What more could a guy ask for?
There was an awkward pause. “I’m not sure why you’d need my address for Friday night.”
Tom froze. Within seconds, he fumbled for his phone, pulling Ryland off of speaker phone as the door to the set swung open, two members of the crew walking out together. He turned his back towards them, pressing the phone back to his ear.
“My premiere? It’s this Friday. I know it’s not an ideal first date – I’ll have to do a few soundbites on the red carpet, take a few photos, the usual,” he said, allowing a spark of pride to tinge his words. Something flickered at the back of his mind. Ryland had seemed like a pretty quiet guy… “Gail can take you in the side entrance if you’re not comfortable in front of the press. She’ll wait with you until I’m done. Or I can have my PA take you straight to our seats, so you won’t have to wait around.”
“Tom–” Ryland started. Tom pressed on.
“We can get dinner afterwards. There’s no Q&A this time. Well, there is, but it’s for the Director, not the cast. So we can head straight out. I was thinking maybe sushi. Do you like sushi? Of course you do, you’re from Cali; everyone loves sushi.”
“Tom,” Ryland tried again, more firmly this time. “You’re talking over me.”
“Oh.” Tom’s voice dropped a fraction, the energy smoothing out into something more careful. He paused for a beat, flustered, before laughing. “Sorry about that. Professional hazard. Shoot; I’m listening.”
Ryland paused long enough that Tom wondered if he'd broken him.
“Okay… I was just saying, I didn’t confirm I could do Friday.” Silence fell between them for a beat again, before Ryland added, “And I don’t really have strong opinions about sushi.”
Tom pulled his phone away from his ear, staring down at the handset as if it might have somehow begun malfunctioning. He tapped the screen, checking to make sure they were still connected, before pressing it back against his ear.
“I’m sorry, could you repeat that? It sounded like you said you hadn’t confirmed Friday,” Tom said with a laugh.
“That’s right.”
Oh. Right. That wasn’t a misunderstanding. That was just… the answer. His grip tightened slightly on the phone before he forced it to relax. He’d completely bulldozed past that. Of course he had. Ryland didn’t sound annoyed, though. Just factual. Which somehow made it worse. Or better. It was hard to tell. Without the buzz of the crew around him, the day was really starting to catch up to Tom.
“Is this because of last Friday? Are you… mad at me?” Tom pulled the phone away from his ear abruptly, eyes wide, covering the mic with his palm. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Did he seriously just ask that? Nobody liked a needy boyfriend. Heck, they hadn’t even managed to make it to their first date! It was like he was trying to scare him off.
There was a reason Tom Ryder was known more for one-night stands than anything that could reasonably be called dating. People tended to take one look at him and fill in the blanks: handsome, rich, always photographed with someone new on his arm at premieres or afterparties. The assumption did most of the work for them.
What they didn’t see was how rarely he was in one place long enough for anything else to really take hold. Shoots, press tours, travel – his life didn’t exactly leave much room for “normal.”
“No. I’m not mad at you,” Ryland said, tone even, slightly confused by the direction of the question. Relief surged through Tom; at least Ryland hadn’t picked up on his faux pas. Maybe there was still a chance. “I just have a lot of grading to finish. I didn’t commit to Friday because I don’t like over-scheduling during term time. That’s all.”
“Please?” It came out too fast. Too honest. Tom grimaced. “Sorry – no, I just – I’d really like to get to know you better. I’m only in town for a couple more weeks before we fly out to London. Then it’s over to –” He paused, eyes flicking upward as if the answer might be written somewhere in the dark. “Myrdal… Mýrda…”
“Mýrdalssandur?” Ryland supplied, mildly.
“That’s it!” Tom latched onto it immediately, relieved. “Mýrdalssandur. For filming. I’d hate to miss the chance to spend some time together before then.”
Behind him, the door opened again. Knuckles rapped on the metal, echoing out into the empty lot. Tom turned, scowling already forming, then smoothing as he registered the Second Assistant Director, clipboard tucked tight against her chest, headset still half-on like she’d been pulled straight out of motion. He glanced past her and toward the set, where a PA was already hovering and a sound tech stood with headphones around his neck, watching the sky like it might personally delay their wrap.
In the distance, someone called, “We’re racking up overtime. Let’s move!”
Another voice – calmer, but louder – cut across it. “Sound ready to roll back in when we’ve got him!”
The AD gave Tom an apologetic, practiced smile. “Sorry, Tom. We just need you back on set, if you’re ready?”
He held up a hand immediately, fingers flattening in a silent request for three more minutes. He sent her his best pleading look. She hesitated, glanced over her shoulder at the growing noise of a crew trying very hard not to look like they were waiting on him specifically. She sighed and nodded.
“Three minutes,” she echoed, already backing off. “Then we really do need you.”
Tom mouthed thank you as she gave him a quick thumbs up and turned, stepping back into the controlled chaos – headsets crackling, footsteps quickening, someone already calling for reset on cameras.
“I really can’t right now,” Ryland’s voice came through the speaker, steady but a little softer than before. “I would if I could.”
Tom’s mind raced. Ok, there was something stopping Ryland from saying yes. That meant it wasn’t a no. That? He could work with.
Tom wracked his brain, running through the excuses – reasons – people had given him in the past for turning him down. It was a rare occurrence, rarer still since he hit his first big break with that biopic about the singer. He pulled up every detail he could think of about Ryland. One thing stuck in his mind.
“Is it a wardrobe thing?”
His mind flashed to the oversized cardigan with the worn-thin elbows that Ryland had been wearing when they met on set. In retrospect that, more than anything, should have been a giveaway that he wasn’t Colt. Though, the look did suit him – soft, a little messy and worn in, but inviting.
Still; Tom could understand why Ryland might be a bit nervous about being surrounded by designer labels and sharp suits. He could call in a few favours, no problem. He had designers falling over themselves to dress him. Armani would jump at the chance to dress both him and his date, even if it was short notice.
“I’ll get everything sorted, Ry, don’t you worry about a thing. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I’ll get someone to send you the details, we can get you in for a fitting as early as tomorrow. Can you take a longer lunch? Or would after class work better?” Tom added. Ryland didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would want to set a bad example to his students by coming back late.
The pause on the other end was longer this time, almost puzzled. “I… hadn’t even considered that,” Ryland said slowly, as though he was actively reviewing whether wardrobe had ever been part of the problem in his life and coming up empty.
“It’s okay, I’ve got it covered.”
“It’s not the clothes I’m worried about,” Ryland continued, still sounding a little thrown by the entire line of questioning. A faint rustle came through the speaker – paper shifting, maybe, or him adjusting his hold on the phone. “I do know how to buy a shirt, Tom.”
A shirt. Tom’s mouth opened and closed. So, not a wardrobe problem.
“Right…” he said faintly, thrown and not quite sure what to do about it. “Is it… I could send a car to pick you up?” He mentally ran through his schedule for the night. He was scheduled to do interviews ahead of the red carpet, too. Gail liked to have them scheduled during his final suit fitting, so that the photographers could get some action shots of him changing. It would be worth risking her ire just this once, if it meant a little extra time with Ryland. “Or I could come. Have my driver swing by on the way, so we could have some extra time together before the real fun begins?”
A sigh filtered through the phone. Tom’s grip wavered. This was a new low. Not even a first date, and he was already blowing it. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
He swallowed hard. Why did he even care? Ryland was just another guy. He wasn’t someone moving in the same circles. He wasn’t famous, or with connections. He didn’t even really have a clue who Tom was, beyond whatever lies Colt had no doubt told him over their years of working together.
Maybe, a small voice at the back of his head cut in before he could finish the thought, that’s exactly why you want him. Someone who isn’t trying to get something from you. Someone who doesn’t already know the version of you everyone else does.
Tom exhaled sharply through his nose, longing lingering in his chest. That really did sound nice.
Papers shuffled. The sound of a kettle whistling came through the phone. Ryland finally spoke. “As… interesting as that sounds, I have responsibilities. I can’t–”
Something snapped in Tom’s chest. For a second, he couldn’t tell if it was anger or something worse. No, he realised, it was closer to disbelief. He swallowed it down fast, too fast, like that would somehow stop it from showing.
“C’mon, Ry. At this rate, I’m gonna start to think that you think there’s something more important than us getting to know each other,” Tom said with a laugh. “I mean, what’s more important than getting to spend some quality time together?”
“I mean…” Ryland sounded like he was still trying to find the simplest way to answer the question.
Tom swallowed hard. “What? What could possibly be more important?”
“Well,” Ryland began, as though sorting the information into a mental list, “I’ve got papers to grade. Three administrative meetings this week. A pop quiz I still need to write. I promised to finalise the itinerary for the seventh-grade field trip to the Exploratorium at the end of next month. And there are parent–teacher conferences coming up, so I should probably prepare for those as well.”
The door opened again, this time the third assistant director poking his head out. “Mr Ryder? We need–”
Before he could get any further, Tom covered his phone. He didn’t even look up as he snapped, “Not now!”
Wide eyes met his. Without another word, the third AD closed the door behind him, leaving as quickly as he came.
Tom turned his attention back to Ryland, careful to keep his voice calm and low and even. It wasn’t enough to keep the petulant, hurt edge out completely. “Are you serious right now? That’s your idea of-of being too busy?”
“And I haven’t cleaned my apartment in forever,” Ryland continued, unbothered by the interruption, “I need to go grocery shopping, I need to pick up a spare puncture repair kit after my bicycle tyre blew out on the way to work last week–”
Something in Tom’s expression shifted. He was still going.
“Oh.” It slipped out under his breath before he could stop it. That… was starting to sound like a bit more than he first expected. It was edging towards sounding like a lot. Tom felt the insistent urge to call his PA rising beneath his skin. She was the one who always dealt with all of that life admin crap for him. Did Ryland have someone like that?
“-I haven’t actually called Colt back, and he tends to worry if I put him off for too long–”
Tom blinked once. Then again. He was still going? How did Ryland even function like this?
“I get it,” Tom said, quieter this time, the edge gone without him noticing it leave. “I get it. I’m… not a priority.”
Ryland’s words cut off abruptly, silence hanging between them for a beat, then two, then three. A long, low sigh came through the speaker. “Tom… I never said that. Dating isn't really a priority for me. It never has been.”
“Right,” Tom said, a short breath leaving his nose. His grip tightened slightly on the phone. “Right. I get it. Not really your thing.”
Tom turned back towards the building, trying to force his mind back to the shoot. Maybe he could still get Ryland’s address from Colt. He was sure that Ryland still could do with those brownies; something to make the long day feel that little bit sweeter as it came to an end. Friends could do that, right? Or… acquaintances? Colleagues-of-siblings? Or was that weird?
“Hey, no. That’s not what I’m trying to say.” An edge of frustration crept into Ryland’s words, enough to stop Tom’s footsteps in his tracks. “It’s not normally something I prioritise. We only just met. I liked talking to you on set. And…” A pause. “I like hearing how your day is going. Even if half the time I have no idea who you're talking about.”
“Yeah? I mean, I like messaging you, too.” Tom couldn’t remember the last time he enjoyed talking with anyone so much – or the last time he could be so unguarded with his conversations. He had had a feeling that most of the time, Ryland didn’t have a clue about who he was talking about – who any of his costars were, or what movie he was working on, or any of it. It was refreshing to hear him say it so plainly.
“But it is a first date. I can’t drop everything at a moment's notice,” Ryland said firmly. “I have responsibilities, and I’m sure you do, too.”
Tom let out a breathy laugh. He got the impression Ryland didn’t realise how rare this all was for him, too. He wasn’t exactly in the habit of asking people out – not really; one night stands didn’t count. It was oddly… reassuring, almost, to hear that it was just as rare for Ryland, albeit for different reasons.
“Oh…” Tom said quietly, the pieces shifting into place. “When you put it like that…”
He tilted his head back, looking at the starry sky above. How was he supposed to do all of this, then? How could they fit in an actual date, if Ryland was going to be busy the entire time Tom was in town?
"You know, I have got the whole summer off," Ryland said hesitantly. "One of the benefits of being a teacher. We could… pencil something in then?"
A slow smile spread across Tom’s lips. Ryland really wasn't saying no. He wasn't trying to let him down gently. He wasn't avoiding him. He was offering him a date. An actual date. Just... several months from now.
Tom thought of his weeks of shoots and reshoots, of press tours and auditions already pre-booked over the busy summer months. Suddenly, none of it seemed to matter as much as getting to know Ryland – as getting the chance to actually spend time with him.
A smile tugged at the corner of Tom's mouth. He could let his agent know the reshoots would need to be pulled forward or condensed. Or maybe he could see about having a plus one with him, if they really couldn’t work around his schedule. Press weeks could be cut down into days with a little pressure from the right people. And auditions… they could take a video call, or leave it. He was Tom freaking Ryder. There would be other auditions. Other premieres. Other press tours.
There probably weren't many people who would tell The Tom Ryder they were too busy grading papers to go on a date.
For some reason, that only made him like Ryland more.
"Sure, Ry. That sounds great. I'll clear my schedule,” Tom promised, something uncharacteristically fond settled in his chest. Maybe being left on read wasn’t really the end of anything. Just… a temporary delay. Tom hadn’t made it to the top by being impatient. He could take things slowly. For Ryland.
Ryland laughed. "Tom, it's still three months away."
"Exactly.” Tom leaned back against the wall, grinning now. “Plenty of notice and no excuse to cancel. It’s a date."