"Jeffrey, quit being a mother hen. I'm fine," I refuse Jeffrey's offer of gum.

"I know you, H. You get nervous at press junkets. You get nervous at any social interaction. Gum helps you calm down," my manager reasonably responds.

"True," I sigh testily, "but I don't want gum right now, okay?"

Jeffrey leans back and examines me closely. We are in the hotel suite at the Four Seasons that Jeffrey requested to use during the press junket. It's a safe place to retreat from the loud voices of the reporters and the pressure of being "on" all of the time during the two days we will be running through the interviews for the movie. These days are the ones where journalists from the smaller shows and websites stream through. Today are 20 minute quickies, and usually half of that time is spent setting up equipment.

Monday we host the longer 40 minute interviews. Then on Tuesday we appear on the Late Late Show with James. I'm really not sure if I can handle three days with Xavier, but I have to admit that the little prick has been out of the public spotlight since the "fag" comment. I'd heard that the incident had been settled quietly out of court. Kudos to whoever was dealing with his press, as that's not a job I would want. Not with someone as ridiculous as my co-star.

"You're on edge, my friend," Jeffrey observes from the sofa where he's watching me. I'm wearing simple black Gucci trousers and a Yves Saint Laurent purple shirt with the first three buttons undone. "What's going on? And where did you disappear to after your party? I looked around, and you were just gone."

Looking away quickly, I swallow hard because, the truth is, my mind has been on my encounter with Olivia from that same night. Two and a half weeks ago.

I live for you. I long for you. Olivia.

"I helped Xavier get home. He'd had too much to drink." I'm only hiding some of the truth. Technically, I haven't lied to Jeffrey. I'm honestly not sure how he would react to the fact that I slept with a random stranger from my party.

"Hmmmm....speaking of your co-star, I wonder why he's not here yet. I told his publicist to meet us in the suite," Jeffrey checks his watch. "Are you sure you're okay? You seem more anxious than usual today."

"I'm fine, Jeffrey," I'm weary of this conversation. Every time we do promo for something, Jeffrey seems to think I need a babysitter. I'll be fine once we're on camera – as long as there are no stupid questions.

"Just remember to look at me when you need to be grounded. I've got your back, buddy," Jeffrey gives this speech, and I roll my eyes per usual. Inevitably, I find that I need to do exactly that -- look at Jeffrey at some point during press. Some questions annoy me, and looking at Jeffrey calms me. Seeing my friend there, smiling and nodding, gives me the courage and peace to answer the question appropriately, especially when all I really want is to provide the most politically correct answer that will keep me out of the tabloids for the wrong reasons.

"Why are they meeting us here?" I ask, focusing on the conversation again. My mind keeps roaming to Olivia. How her nails scratched at my back. How it felt being buried in her. How she called out my name and squealed when she shattered.

"Hmmm?" Jeffrey is texting absentmindedly when there's a short, sharp knock at the door.

Recognizing that my manager is distracted, I open the door myself. It's Paul, the Director of Marketing for the movie, gesturing that it's time to start the first interview. I straighten my pants, suddenly nervous, wishing I had that gum now. Smoothing my hair, I signal to Jeffrey that I'm leaving.

"Wait, Harry!" Jeffrey calls, but he's too late. I've left the room, and I hear Jeffrey traipsing behind me to the first interview.

"Where's my co-star?" I ask Paul, who gestures with his head towards the room. I enter, cautiously looking for the asshole. The last thing I want is that freaked-out tiger on the prowl during our joint interviews.

I had been given the opportunity to do the press junket on my own. Ultimately knowing that it's more effective to have both main actors together for these interviews, I'd agreed. My rider stipulated down time at certain intervals along with an unlimited supply of gum and water. That's what will help me get through this torture of a junket.

Walking into the room with the bright camera lights, I spy Xavier seated in one of the high director's chairs they tend to use for these interviews. He's reciting some mantra over and over, but I'm too far away to hear it.

My sphincter tightens at the sight of the younger actor, and I remind myself that I've survived a long time in this industry. I can do three more days with this twerp.

As I stride further into the room, the interviewer, seated in a chair directly across from the "talent", smiles, and I return the grin, recognizing him from past experiences.

But then I see her, and I falter before freezing in place. "Olivia?" I croak out, and she turns at the sound of my voice, a wide smile on her face which is carefully made up to look as though there's no makeup on at all. She's wearing a burgundy sweater dress that reaches just above her knees, with an off-white oversized cable cardigan. She looks professional, yet my gut tightens at the sight of her.

"Harry! Jeffrey! So sorry! We'd meant to meet you earlier, but we got sidetracked as you can imagine." Sotto voce, she tacks on, "It's his first junket, you know. Quite nervous."

"I can hear you, Olivia," Xavier chimes in, appearing to be good-natured about it although I have never seen him be charitable about anything.

"Oops!" she giggles, but it's clear that she meant him to hear, so everyone laughs along except me.

I'm still trying to figure out what is going on.

Why is she here?

Bewildered, I stand in front of my designated chair, unable to do anything other than simply stare at her.

"Jeffrey!" she exclaims, moving to give a hug to my long-time manager. "Long time, no see!"

I'm completely lost. Just moments ago, I had been picturing our night of pleasure, and now here she is in front of me. How can she be here? Why is she here? Had I conjured her? The questions race through my head. And she's acting like I haven't just had my dick inside her a few weeks go. She can't have forgotten, right? Maybe she sleeps with so many actors that this is the norm? Fuck. No wonder she had two boxes of condoms in her nightstand.

"Yeah," Jeffrey smiles, "Since Harry's party. A long, long time ago. In a galaxy far, far away," as he reaches for her, wrapping one arm around her waist, pulling her to him tightly, lifting her off the floor in his exuberance as he hugs her. I feel a stab of jealousy at their embrace.

Unable to move, I swallow, watching them together. Fuck. How did Jeffrey know Olivia? What was she doing here? This was supposed to be press only. Did she work for some newspaper or magazine? I'm distressed just thinking about the possibilities, and I can't breathe. Why hadn't I vetted her before sleeping with her? Although "sleeping" was absolutely a misnomer. Fucking, that's what it had been. Nothing more than fucking.

When Jeffrey releases her, she turns to the interviewer. "I have a list of topics that are off the table for this interview," and she passes him a typed sheet that appears to be about half-full of single bulleted statements.

He looks up at Oliva after perusing the list, his eyebrow raised, "Seriously, Olivia? All of this is off the table?"

Folding her arms, Olivia gives him quite the cold stare. "All of it."

The famous YouTube interviewer takes a deep breath, then looks at his own questions again. With a pen, he crosses out a few. Finally, looking back at her, he nods. "Okay. I won't ask about those things. But he'll answer everything else I ask?"

Olivia nods, and the relief that crosses the interviewer's face has me worried. I still can't fathom what she's doing here, but it appears that she's present in some official capacity. On behalf of Xavier.

"Oh! I didn't introduce you two. How rude. I guess since we'll spend most of the junket together, you should get acquainted," Jeffrey interjects, pulling me from my reverie of Olivia on her bed, that duvet wrapped around her naked body, her bare shoulder peeking out. "Harry. This is Olivia Wakefield, Xavier's publicist."

Automatically, I stretch my hand out to hers. When our palms touch, electricity shoots between us, and I meet her eyes. In the depths of her gaze, I see that she remembers everything about our night together, but I still can't determine if she regrets it or misses it or wants to repeat it. I want to say so much to her, and yet there's nothing I can say here in this space and at this time that would be appropriate. So I refrain.

The magic that passes between us appears to be hidden from the view of others, and I'm grateful. It's like we're in our own little bubble, and although it had been just a one-night stand the other night, it was OUR special one-night stand, and I wasn't inclined to share it with anyone. Not Jeffrey. And certainly not with my asshole co-star.

We hold onto each other's hands for way too long. I watch her blink rapidly just before she steps back, rubbing her hands together as if she is trying to erase the electricity that affected her palm. Good luck, I think. Efficiently, she reaches in her pockets and produces a stick of gum which she offers to me. When I take it from her, she nods and moves away to stand next to Jeffrey.

My mind is whirling. She's Xavier's publicist? Holy shit. I can't fathom her role in the changes I've seen in him. It's not like he's a different person, but he's stayed out of trouble the last nine months, and that's no easy feat for someone like him. When the interviewer clears his throat, I shake myself, trying to get back to the present moment. Unwrapping the gum, I stuff it in my mouth. Damn. It's my favorite flavor. How did she know? How could she know? Maybe Jeffrey told her.

But then the questions start, and I'm off my game for the first few minutes. The questions are pretty softball.

"The premise of the movie is a teenager who witnesses some scary drug lord business. Harry, you play the druglord. Xavier, you're the teen. What did you have to do to prepare for your character?"

Xavier answers first, and my attention is drawn to where she's standing. When I make eye contact, though, she nods to me, gesturing with a thrust of her chin that I should be paying attention to the interviewer. Refocusing, I tune in to hear the end of Xavier's answer, which means it's my turn.

"Well," I share, "It wasn't easy because none of the drug lords I talked to would let me tag along on their business for some reason." I get the expected laughter from the interviewer before I plow on, "So I had to spend my time with those who hunt down the drug lords. I spent several days with the US Drug Enforcement Agency, learning how they track these criminals, which gave me a bit of insight into the role. Plus, I was able to speak to an undercover officer who had some experience. That all helped."

I'm relieved that I'm able to answer the first question with my scattered thoughts. With Olivia (I live for you. I long for you. Olivia.) standing right in front of me, I am having difficulty focusing. The next few questions are for Xavier mostly, and there is one about how we got along as co-stars. We jostle and tease each other, smiling and acting our hearts out as we share how well we got along for the few scenes we filmed together. It's one of the best acting jobs either of us has done.

"In the climactic ending of the movie, we find out that the teen has to reach and press the release button to stop the train from running off the tracks. How do you compare filming that scene to some of the action sequences you did in Dunkirk?"

Suddenly, I'm tense. This is one of those questions that I have to rely on my training for because there is definitely a right (and a wrong!) way to answer it. This is one of those questions where I need a touchstone to ground me. Looking up, I make eye contact with Olivia. She smiles at me reassuringly, and the tension inside me begins to ease. It's like I'm drawing comfort from her presence, like I did at my birthday party.

"Well, Jerry. There's no way to compare the two movies. They had very different directors with different ways of filming. We did some green screen work on Press Release, and most of Dunkirk was filmed on location. For me, as an actor, they were both experiences that I will always remember," I finish the last word and feel a burst of pride in my ability to not answer his question.

Two questions later, and time is up. Shaking our hands, the interviewer exits while the next one comes in with her crew to set up. Watching Olivia move towards Xavier, who has jumped down from his chair to stretch his legs, I almost miss the summons from Jeffrey. Olivia and I cross paths, and in the small space, our hands brush each other. The tingling I get rushes up my arm and sets my heart pounding. Why is this woman having this effect on me? What's really weird is that she can both calm me down AND ramp up my libido.

"You okay?" Jeffrey asks when I'm closer. "Need some gum?"

Shaking my head, I tilt my head to look at my long-time manager, debating whether to ask him about Olivia. But he interjects first, "You looked lost up there for a minute, and I thought maybe you'd look over at me, but I guess you didn't need to."

"Nah. I'm good, Jeffrey," I tell him, and I realize he's a little hurt that I hadn't sought him out when I wasn't feeling confident. I make a note to connect with him via eye contact at least once in this next interview. "Hey, random question. Are you the one who suggested Olivia to Xavier?"

Jeffrey flushes a bit which is odd as I've rarely seen him blush. Only when I publicly acknowledge him or tease him in front of others does he usually color and become embarrassed. "You called me, remember? You said you needed help or the movie would be a disaster."

Watching him, I am confused by his response. Yes. I called him. And he apparently called Olivia. But why her? And how had he known she would do so well?

"Yes, I remember," I reply to him, "But why didn't you tell me that you had figured out a solution?

"Well....actually, Olivia is very private about what she does. I don't ask her about it anymore. I just trust her. She's brilliant, but she likes her involvement kept under wraps," Jeffrey is actually shuffling his feet at this point, and I'm very curious about how he knows Olivia.

She's moving closer to us, obviously ready for the interview to start, and I give Jeffrey a hard look before heading back to my chair. The woman doing the interview is nervous and it's pretty obvious, so I spend the next 17 minutes making her comfortable and answering her questions. When I glance over at Olivia, she's beaming at me, and I can't help but feel proud that I've gained her approval.

After the nervous interviewer leaves, Xavier turns to me, "You stepped on my answers. Three times." He's a bit pissed off, which raises my hackles too.

Olivia is moving closer, and I don't think she heard his comment.

"X!" she exclaims, "I'm so glad you and Harry were able to tag team like that to make her comfortable! That was amazing!"

Pausing, he gapes at her, and then the smile spreads across his face. "You're right, O. We did work together on that one, didn't we? Thanks, Harry!"

Shocked and stunned, I watch her work her magic on Xavier. Just moments before he had been snarling at me, ready to rip me apart. Now he's thanking me? All because Olivia ("O"? Seriously?) congratulated him on something that had been nonexistent. Had she heard Xavier's comment to me? I'm guessing I will never know because she won't share. Does it really matter?

I find I'm in awe of this woman. If I hadn't seen her work, I would have been impressed that she had gotten his behavior under control after the incident last spring. But to watch her professional moves? I'm duly dazzled by her ability to get Xavier in line, especially considering how hard I'd worked last year to make friends with him, all of my offers being rebuffed. Yet she makes one comment and he's panting to please her.

Kind of like I had been – in her bedroom.

Shit.  Had Xavier been with her too? Was she that kind of woman?

Jeffrey is signaling me again, and I've been so lost in watching Olivia that I missed it. Damn. My manager and close friend will be interrogating me at lunch if I'm not careful. Olivia still hasn't given any indication that we'd been intimate. She practically pretends I'm not in the same room.

The third interviewer arrives, and I'm grateful it's the last one before lunch. This one asks some pretty harsh questions, and the first one he asks, which is about how Xavier and I worked together even though we were in separate filming sessions for the majority of the film, is really challenging. My first instinct is to seek out Olivia's face for some reassurance, yet I know that Jeffrey will be hurt, so I direct my gaze to him instead, cringing when his adorable encouraging smile doesn't quite do it for me like usual. I actually have to fight to not look at Olivia, and that makes me sad. Jeffrey has always been my guy.

But today I only want to watch Olivia and gain my calm vibes from her. Which is why, during this third interview, I ignore her completely as desperately as I want to look at her. See her. Watch that slow smile spread across her face to give me confidence that I'm answering well.