Hiya! I’m here as Holly today. The Fourth Wall is out!!! 

The day we’re celebrating is Popcorn Lover’s Day, and this is a contemporary short story. 

If you’re in the mood for light and silly, then check this out. I was having a lot of fun writing it, and it’s a bit… well. Darcy and his best friend, Etta, love the theater. The problem is they can’t afford any tickets, so instead they bring a big bowl of popcorn and watch the drama their neighbors bring to the curb. 

The problem with being in the audience is that you aren’t supposed to interact with the actors, but when Theodore, Darcy’s hot neighbor, takes the scene, Darcy has a hard time keeping his excitement in check. 

Read the first chapter below! 

The Fourth Wall

The problem with being in the audience is you aren’t supposed to interact with the actors. 
 
Darcy Hudson loves theatre. Or maybe love is too strong a word, but he certainly appreciates the drama unfolding outside his apartment building. He and his best friend take turns bringing the popcorn to the curb performance. 
 
Theodore Galanis, his hot neighbor, has an ongoing conflict with their equally hot, but evil, landlord. The entertainment value is high, but most of all, Darcy wants to rescue Theodore from the Greek tragedy he’s trapped in and claim Theodore for himself. And maybe he will, after the next bowl of popcorn.  

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Contemporary gay romance: 12,755 words

JMS Books :: Amazon

Chapter 1

Darcy Hudson rushed down one flight of stairs, balancing the bowl of popcorn in one hand while throwing a folded blanket over his shoulder. When he came to the floor below, he rushed past the first door to his right before slapping his palm on the second. 

Not a sound. 

He banged again, more insistently this time. 

The door was yanked open from underneath his hand. 

“What?” Etta—not Etta James but almost as awesome—glared at him. Her dark eyes squinting, her teal hair a tumbly mess, and there were dark smudges underneath her eyes. Ooops! 

“You didn’t answer your phone. I have popcorn.” He held out the bowl to her. 

Etta was the first friend he’d made after moving here, and he believed she might be the best one he’d ever had. Sadly, she was a bartender who worked late nights, and he was an early-to-rise, early-to-bed kind of person. 

He often forgot not everyone was. 

“What are you doing here?” She yawned as she rubbed her sternum, and he noticed she wore gray cotton pajamas with elephants on them. Cute. 

“It’s started. I made popcorn, but I don’t think we can delay any longer, or we’ll miss the entire show.” He shoved the bowl at her, and when she took it, he reached past her and grabbed her coat. As he draped it over her shoulders, she stared at him. 

“What’s started?” 

She clearly wasn’t awake enough to think. He reclaimed the bowl, curled his arm around it, grabbed her hand in his other, and dragged her out of the apartment. 

“It’s a morning show today.” 

“Darcy, for fuck’s sake. We don’t do morning shows, don’t they know?” 

“Come on. We’re late.” But she was right. They never did morning shows. He wondered why they made an exception today. 

She grumbled but allowed him to drag her down the next flight of stairs into the foyer of the building. There were black, slightly scarred mailboxes along one wall, a bench along another, and someone—Mrs. Carell, he believed—had placed a few pots with large Swiss Cheese plants to try to conceal the hideous orange walls. 

Darcy wished Mr. Doukas, the owner, would repaint. Maybe he was waiting for the orange and brown nightmare of the seventies to come back in style—it most likely would soon. Shudder. 

It would’ve been so much nicer with a calming blue or if they truly were waiting for the seventies to reappear, why not brown? Brown walls could be lovely with some lighting and the right decor. 

“Fuck, the floor is cold.” 

He looked down at Etta’s bare feet, took in the black and silver of her toenails, and winced. “Sorry, I forgot to demand shoes.” It couldn’t be helped. “Nice nails.” 

She nodded and yawned again. 

“Here. Hold.” He held out the bowl. “Don’t spill.” Then he hefted her up into his arms, bridal style. Luckily, she was small because he wasn’t the strongest man around. 

He moved toward the door release button. “Open it.” She pressed it with her foot, and they stepped out into the March morning sun. It was a beautiful but cold day. 

He hurried over to an old wooden bench and stilled. Fuck. He didn’t want to put her down. Bare feet on cold ground. “Can you grab the blanket?” 

Etta stared at him. “What?” 

He shrugged his shoulders as the raised voices from a few feet away grew louder. “The blanket. I don’t want my ass cheeks to get stuck to the bench.” 

She frowned. “How would they get stuck?” 

“You know how your mama told you not to lick things when it was freezing outside because your tongue would stick to the metal?” 

She stared at him for several long seconds, and they didn’t have seconds to waste. 

“Come on.” 

“Put me down.” She wiggled, and since she was growing heavier by the nanosecond, he did. She held the popcorn, he put the blanket on the bench for them to sit on, and she tucked her bare feet under her. 

Darcy took a handful of popcorn and shoved them into his mouth at the exact moment Theodore Galanis, his across-the-hall neighbor, glared at him. He moaned but kept on chewing. 

Theodore’s dark, wavy hair shone in the sun, his brown eyes shot daggers, and his jaw was set. 

Etta ate some popcorn, too. “You know, I don’t think it’s normal for mothers to have to tell their kids not to lick things when it’s freezing outside. And I don’t want to think about how you took it to mean your ass would get stuck to a cold bench. It’s the saliva freezing making you stick, right? So… how wet is your ass?” 

Darcy ignored her comment about his ass. “It’s normal. My mother told me all the time.” 

“Uh-huh.” She held her breath as Mr. Doukas waved and shouted something in Greek. Theodore scowled in reply, and Darcy sighed. He preferred it when they shouted at each other in English, so he could understand what they said, but Greek was nice too. 

“How old were you?” 

“Thirty-four.” 

She threw popcorn at him. “Were. How old were you, not how old are you.” 

Darcy tore his eyes away from the spectacle and focused on Etta for a second. “When?” 

“When your mom told you not to lick things. Since you remember it, you must’ve been pretty old.” 

He frowned. “I don’t know.” 

“Because I get how you might need to tell a three-year-old not to lick lamp posts or whatever when it’s freezing cold outside. Maybe. I mean, I can see it happening, but you don’t remember much from when you’re three, which makes me believe you were older.” 

“You lying, cheating son of a bitch!” 

Etta’s eyes widened, and they both turned to see Theodore take a step closer to Mr. Doukas; hands fisted at his sides and murder in his eyes. 

“Oh, I think there is more history here than we believed.” Darcy ate another handful of popcorn. 

“Hmm.” Etta reached into the bowl too. 

Mr. A. Doukas moved in two months ago. He’d owned the building for far longer, but Darcy hadn’t seen him before he moved in. He’d pictured him as an old, grumpy man, but A. Doukas was in his late thirties to early forties, immaculately dressed, and beautiful with the warm colors of someone from the Mediterranean. 

Theodore had the same colors, but he was bigger, broader, wore jeans and a black leather jacket, and made Darcy salivate. 

When Darcy first came to look at the apartment he now lived in, a stunning woman with olive skin, long brown, almost black hair, and hazel eyes had shown him around and accepted the contract when he signed it. He’d assumed she was Mrs. Doukas. Had imagined a dirty old man corrupting the young, unassuming beauty. 

Maybe she was Mrs. Doukas, but the narrative had changed. She might have married for love. 

“You think he cheated on his wife, got caught, and when she kicked him out, he had to move in here?” He pushed more popcorn into his mouth. 

“Maybe Mrs. Doukas is Theodore’s sister.” 

Darcy nodded. “Would explain the hurt feelings.” 

He’d never seen Theodore smile. They lived on the same floor. Theodore had already been there when Darcy moved in two years ago, and every time he met him on the stairs, he beamed at him, said hello, or wished him a lovely evening, or whatever suited the situation, and at the most, he got a grunt in reply. 

It was fine. Theodore could grunt at him all day long, and he’d still swoon. A Greek god in the flesh. 

“Move your fucking car!” Mr. Doukas gestured wildly, and Darcy sighed. This was how their arguing most often ended. Theodore parked his car in front of the apartment building. There was no parking lot there, but there was no sign saying you couldn’t park either, and he wasn’t blocking the entrance. Then Mr. Doukas would come storming out and yell at him to move the car. 

They’d shout, exchange insults in both English and Greek, then it ended with Theodore getting into his car, revving the engine, and driving off with squealing tires. 

“What does the A stand for?” He reached for more popcorn, not taking his eyes off Theodore. 

“Huh?” 

“On Mr. Doukas’ mailbox. It says A. Doukas. Adonis?” 

She huffed. “Andreas.” 

“Nah, I think it’s Adonis.” It fit him better. He could sense Etta’s eyes on him, so he tore his gaze away from the entertainment. 

“I believed we were here to drool over Theodore.” 

“We are, but you can’t tell me Adonis isn’t hot.” 

She scrunched her nose. “He’s not your type. Too vain.” 

“You think?” He slid his gaze over Adonis. His hair was perfectly styled, there wasn’t a wrinkle in sight, his clean-shaven face looked well moisturized, and his eyebrows were flawless. 

Hmm, maybe Etta was right. 

She smirked. “He’s too clean to get down and dirty.” 

Theodore snarled something in Greek and yanked open the car door. 

“Oh no, it’s a tragedy this time too.” Darcy reached into the popcorn bowl and realized it was almost empty. 

“Always is. Should we applaud?” 

The sound of Theodore slamming the door shut and the engine coming to life reached them. “Next time. We need to be faster. Theodore wouldn’t hear the applause now.” 

Adonis gave Theodore’s car the finger as he sped off, and Etta laughed. “Oh, this was worth waking up for. A bit more fiery than usual.” 

The glare Adonis sent them as he stomped inside was Oscar-worthy. 

“He really takes his role seriously.” Darcy sighed dreamily as the door slid shut behind him. 

Etta’s laugh was a little louder than it needed to be, but he got up, offered his back in a piggyback invitation, and grunted when she hopped on board.