Exclusive Excerpt from UNSCRIPTED by JR Gray
UNSCRIPTED by J.R. Gray.
They were the king and queen of Hollywood— and then she wanted a divorce. The only way to survive Quell’s depression is to bury himself in work. If he can be a character, maybe he won’t have to remember himself. A gay role can’t be any different than playing a straight one, can it?
But instead of finding solace in the character, he finds it in his costar. Hale becomes his best friend, his lifeline, the light in his darkness. Quell is forced to examine everything he thought he knew about himself while filming intimate scenes with Hale that feel more real than anything ever has before.
He’s lived his entire life following the script. What would life be like unscripted?
Quellcrist King has been playing a part his entire life. The more famous he becomes, the more he hides. The only person he ever let see the real him rose with him from nothing to the very top.
They were the king and queen of Hollywood— and then she wanted a divorce. The only way to survive his depression is to bury himself in work. If he can be a character, maybe he won’t have to remember himself. A gay role can’t be any different than playing a straight one, can it?
But instead of finding solace in the character, he finds it in his costar. Hale becomes his best friend, his lifeline, the light in his darkness. Quell is forced to examine everything he thought he knew about himself while filming intimate scenes with Hale that feel more real than anything ever has before.
He’s lived his entire life following the script. What would life be like unscripted?
Exclusive Excerpt:
“Should we try and sleep?” I asked. The sofa was wide enough for us both to lay comfortably without encroaching on each other’s space. “If I didn’t think this sofa would cost more than I make, I’d buy one for my house.”
He laughed, which warmed me. “I have one in my house. They’re less than you’d expect them to be.”
“I’m still on an IKEA budget over here.” I got up to grab the blanket draped over one of the chairs. I offered it to him, and he took it as he kicked his shoes off.
“You can splurge a little when we renegotiate and sell season three.” He pulled off his belt, and I felt it in my bones.
I averted my eyes and grabbed another blanket so we wouldn’t have to share. That was asking for trouble. I waited for him to stretch out on the sofa before taking the outside. We were closer than I expected. It was a daybed type sofa, but it still wasn’t bigger than a full bed. I turned my face to look at him. He laid there on his stomach, head on his arm, looking at me.
It was so intimate. My view on intimacy had changed drastically over the last few months. It had nothing to do with touching him. Intimacy was being allowed inside someone’s mind.
“We’ve never talked about LA,” he said. “Was that why you needed space?”
Could I stand to lie to him? “No.”
“It’s killing me not to know.”
“I’m sorry.” And I was, but not enough to tell him and risk losing him. Fear closed my throat and there was no way to speak. So I pretended to sleep because it was the only safe option.
I must have slept some because a crash of thunder startled me awake. I rolled to face the window. Lightning flashed over the water, striking it and dancing through the clouds. This was a bad storm, but it was nice to be this close to Quell again. His steady breathing brought me peace. One I hadn’t felt in days. Sleep started to take me again. I rolled to my back to get more comfortable, my hip brushing into Quell as I did. I hadn’t realized I was so close. I froze, not wanting to jerk away and wake him. He moved his hips and nudged into me again.
Was he hard?
“Sorry about that.” He pulled away and tucked the blanket in between us.
“My fault.” I glanced over at him in the dim light. He was laying on his side with one hand visible laying over his hip and his other tucked under his head. It had to have been an erection.
“No, it’s embarrassing. I’m really sorry.” He swallowed his voice thick. “I don’t want things to be weird.”
“Involuntary. It happens in your sleep.” I wanted to bury myself in a hole.
“I wasn’t sleeping.”
I almost fell off the sofa. “Are you saying… What are you saying?”
He placed a hand on the side of my neck and kissed me. Slow and so soft I’d have thought I was imagining it. I was stunned. Was this really happening?
Before my brain caught up, he’d pulled back. “I’m sorry.”
About J.R. Gray:
Gray is a cynical Chicago native, who drinks coffee all day, barely sleeps, and is a little too fashion obsessed. He writes realistic and damaged characters because everyone deserves a happily ever after.
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