Ollie let out a breath.

“Thank you,” he said.

We danced, practically cheek to cheek, him holding my hand between us like an old-fashioned movie couple. Nothing about it should have felt normal, but somehow it did.

Of course, I was slow dancing in a gay club with Oliver Matthias. Of course.

“My manager thinks it will ruin my career,” he said. “I’m afraid he’s right.”

I couldn’t promise him otherwise.

“Or maybe it will just make you even more famous and fabulously unattainable,” I said.

He laughed.

“I don’t want to be brave for coming out. I don’t want to be a hero or an icon or anything. I just want to be an actor. Maybe a director someday. A famous one. A famous, handsome, rich one. I don’t want to be the famous, handsome, rich, gay one.”

“I get it,” I said. “I’m used to being the token Jewish friend.”

“You’re from L.A.,” he said.

I nodded. “Still.”

He let out a low whistle, barely audible over the music.

“A kid in middle school asked me where my horns were,” I said.

He laughed, a dark humor kind of laugh.

“Everyone would want to know when I first ‘knew,’ ” he said.

“They want to know what I think about Santa Claus.”

“They’d want to know who the catcher is.”

I cringed.

“I’d make a joke about circumcision,” I said. “But I’d rather cut this conversation short.”

Ollie laughed. And laughed. And laughed.

It wasn’t that great of a joke, but we were both well on our way to being very drunk and maybe becoming friends and things that were usually horrible could seem funny and fun when you felt like that.

I wasn’t sure what I’d done to deserve this—Ollie’s apparent trust and friendship—but I’d take it.

“I like you,” he said.

It was hard to separate Ollie the person from Oliver the movie star and I couldn’t deny the rush of endorphins I got knowing that Oliver the movie star—the person I’d been watching since I was a preteen—liked me.

“And I think he likes you too,” he said.

He spun me around so I got a quick look at Gabe, still sitting on the couch. He was watching us.

“He’s jealous,” Ollie said, and put his hand on my hip.

“He is not,” I said. “He’s Gabe Parker.”

“You think he doesn’t have feelings?” Ollie asked. “He’s an actor. He has all of them.”

“Did you just quote The First Wives Club at me?”

“Did you just know that I quoted The First Wives Club at you?”

We grinned at each other.

“I knew it,” he said. “I have impeccable taste in people.”

“I’ll accept that,” I said.