How it Starts
It can start any number of ways, really:
Joe Quinto, Jesus Christ.
I would wonder how he managed to get into my hotel room, but the first thing I learned about Joe when I met him is not to ask questions about how he ends up where he does.
"Hey man, Merry Yuletide such-and-such," he says and throws the paper on the table beside my laptop. He's immediately rifling through the cabinets, where he finds another coffee mug and tops it off without asking, thank you very much.
"What's up man? Why are you spending Christmas in Ontario?"
"I'm not. Just popped in to say hello." He shrugs, opening four packets of sugar at once and dumping them in.
"Okay, hi. Happy holidays."
"Seasons Greetings. What'd you get me?"
I try to glare at Joe, but that'd kinda impossible. Never, no matter what stunt he's pulled, have I ever been mad at Joe. "The coffee you're drinking." I say, flatly.
"Ugh, hotel coffee? What a sucky gift. Especially when what I got you is so much better," He grins mischeif written all over it, and takes his phone out of his pocket.
"What're you--"
"Uh uh uh. Wait until the end to ask questions, please." And with that, he presses a button and Zach's voice comes through the speaker.
"You've got serious problems man."
"Do not!" Joe's voice. I roll my eyes, "I just call it like I see it. And I see two buddies of mine in serious need of a little pow wow. I've watched you two scrape along, constantly on the verge of getting together, yet so unaware of how the other feels its almost stupid. You two are so in tune with each other it's scary, so why can't you see what everyone else sees?"
"No. That's. No. Even if it were true, which I'm not saying it is, how would showing up on his doorstep help anything?"
"Since his doorstep is in L.A. and he's currently in Ontario, not a bit of good. Which is why the ticket I sent you says Ontario Intl. Airport."
I look up at Joe, who looks much too smug for his own good.
"I'm not going, Joe. Don't meddle. It's irritating." Zach's voice seems resigned, sad somehow.
"Joe--"
"SHHH!" He admonishes, motioning at his phone.
"If you don't want to go, I will. And I'll tell him."
"You will not." Zach says, seemingly scandalized.
"Well you go and tell him then."
"Tell me what?" I ask
"SHHHH!" Joe warns again. His voice comes through the speaker, full of challenge.
"Betcha can't even say it."
"Say what?"
"Dude! What are we talking about here? Your ultimate crush on Chris Pine! You're head over heels in love!"
I stand up, scraping my chair as loudly as possible, slamming my laptop shut. I grab my coffe mug, take it over to the sink and rinse it out. Scratch what I said earlier. I can be mad at Joe.
His hand's on my shoulder. I shut the faucet off and say, without turning around "You need to leave. Your gift...your fucking gift to me is a prank? A stupid conversation where you're pulling the strings, obviously manipulating the poor guy..."
"Manipulating? Chris, Zach loves you! He does. I know. I've known him my whole life, I know when he's in love. And I know you feel the same about him."
I turn around and look him in the eye. Somehow, I know he's not lying, even though the thought that I love Zachary Quinto has never occurred to me before. That's when all the pieces fall into place, when everything adds up. And all I can say is, "Holy shit."
"You had no idea, did you?" Joe says softly.
"Well I fucking should have!" I reply "Shouldn't you know? I mean... I really have been...this whole time. Haven't I?"
"This evidence enough for you?" He asks.
But he isn't talking to me.
I look at his phone, at the screen. He's got Zach on speaker phone. And if I weren't so shaken by my revelation, I would've immediately freaked out. But I know what's coming. I turn and face the door to my hotel room. The handle turns.
Zachary Quinto is standing in the meager living room of my hotel, in Ontario, on Christmas day. He has his iphone in his hand and a look on his face somewhere between schooled nervousness and relief.
"Chris," he says "I'm sorry. Joe wanted to do it this way, wanted to make you figure it out. He dragged me out here and---"
"It's cool," I respond. "I expect this much from Joe. It's really totally fine." Feeling a lack of smug and mischevious presence in the room, I ask "Hey...where did he go?"
Zach and I look around, but Joe is nowhere in sight. A voice comes from Zach's phone, "Just call me the ghost of Christmas past!" Joe says, cheerily "Have fun you two!" and the screen on Zach's phone flashes to signal the end of the call.
"So, Chris...you...," Zach puts his iphone in his pocket and takes a step closer to me.
"And you...," I reply, teasing.
"Yes?" Zach raises an eyebrow.
"You love me." I point out, still slightly baffled "You totally batshit crazy, upside-down sex at 4 in the morning on a Sunday love me."
"Well...I don't know about batshit, but..." Zach grins "Not one hundred percent inaccurate."
"What, you aren't going to say it? Y'know that you love me? Not even one time, just for me? Just me and you in my hotel room in Ontario, really dying to kiss each other and you won't say it?"
"I figure there are better ways to express it," Zach says, taking another step forward, so we're standing chest to chest.
"Ohhhhh."
"Chris?" Zach says, tipping his head back slightly as he places his hands on my upper arms, leaning even further in.
"Yeah?"
"Why don't you go ahead and kiss me, if you're dying to do it?"
So I do. And you know how they say you see fireworks when things are perfect between you and the person you're kissing? Well, this is more like Hiroshima. But a good version of Hiroshima. And that's when I know for sure I'm in love with Zachary Quinto.
This is how it starts. Anything else could've happened, but in the end, it starts with me barefooted, snow from Zach's boots melting into the rough hotel carpet, his still slightly cold hands on my biceps, my arms around his waist, our lips connected in what is possibly the most chaste kiss I've ever experience.
And if this is the start and I already feel as though I could melt into the carpet right with that snow, I pray I never see the end. I might not survive it.
- Seeing Zach in passing and finding him attractive.
- Being a secret fan of So Notorious/Heroes and idolizing him prior to our first meeting.
- Meeting Zach for the first time in our personal trainer's kitchen.
- Any of the number of parties we went to and just happened to bump into one another.
- Zach sticking up for me to the casting director and JJ.
- Our first meeting on set, when Zach first had the ears and the eyebrows and the bowl cut, and Zach made that pouty face right before JJ got to directing, and I had to stifle my laughter with some serious coughing.
- The weird way we passed time in our respective trailers, playing video games, watching trash TV, sort of but not really cuddling, the kind where you don't touch at all, yet are still warm and comfortable just because the other person's there.
- The foot rub, because I have this weird habit of tucking one leg under the other when I sit and my foot always falls asleep, and Zachary just grabbed it before I could even say anything and rubbed the numbness right out.
- The press junket, shoulder to shoulder with Zachary Quinto for months, which was simeltaneously heaven and hell for me, feeling so comfortable yet unable to test the waters, to afraid to.
- Visiting Zach after his move to NYC, doing the typical dance for him, coffee and a stroll/lounge in Central Park.
- Our late night texting conversations when I have to be up early to film my other respective movies and he has a yoga class, neither one of us wants to say goodbye.
Joe Quinto, Jesus Christ.
I would wonder how he managed to get into my hotel room, but the first thing I learned about Joe when I met him is not to ask questions about how he ends up where he does.
"Hey man, Merry Yuletide such-and-such," he says and throws the paper on the table beside my laptop. He's immediately rifling through the cabinets, where he finds another coffee mug and tops it off without asking, thank you very much.
"What's up man? Why are you spending Christmas in Ontario?"
"I'm not. Just popped in to say hello." He shrugs, opening four packets of sugar at once and dumping them in.
"Okay, hi. Happy holidays."
"Seasons Greetings. What'd you get me?"
I try to glare at Joe, but that'd kinda impossible. Never, no matter what stunt he's pulled, have I ever been mad at Joe. "The coffee you're drinking." I say, flatly.
"Ugh, hotel coffee? What a sucky gift. Especially when what I got you is so much better," He grins mischeif written all over it, and takes his phone out of his pocket.
"What're you--"
"Uh uh uh. Wait until the end to ask questions, please." And with that, he presses a button and Zach's voice comes through the speaker.
"You've got serious problems man."
"Do not!" Joe's voice. I roll my eyes, "I just call it like I see it. And I see two buddies of mine in serious need of a little pow wow. I've watched you two scrape along, constantly on the verge of getting together, yet so unaware of how the other feels its almost stupid. You two are so in tune with each other it's scary, so why can't you see what everyone else sees?"
"No. That's. No. Even if it were true, which I'm not saying it is, how would showing up on his doorstep help anything?"
"Since his doorstep is in L.A. and he's currently in Ontario, not a bit of good. Which is why the ticket I sent you says Ontario Intl. Airport."
I look up at Joe, who looks much too smug for his own good.
"I'm not going, Joe. Don't meddle. It's irritating." Zach's voice seems resigned, sad somehow.
"Joe--"
"SHHH!" He admonishes, motioning at his phone.
"If you don't want to go, I will. And I'll tell him."
"You will not." Zach says, seemingly scandalized.
"Well you go and tell him then."
"Tell me what?" I ask
"SHHHH!" Joe warns again. His voice comes through the speaker, full of challenge.
"Betcha can't even say it."
"Say what?"
"Dude! What are we talking about here? Your ultimate crush on Chris Pine! You're head over heels in love!"
I stand up, scraping my chair as loudly as possible, slamming my laptop shut. I grab my coffe mug, take it over to the sink and rinse it out. Scratch what I said earlier. I can be mad at Joe.
His hand's on my shoulder. I shut the faucet off and say, without turning around "You need to leave. Your gift...your fucking gift to me is a prank? A stupid conversation where you're pulling the strings, obviously manipulating the poor guy..."
"Manipulating? Chris, Zach loves you! He does. I know. I've known him my whole life, I know when he's in love. And I know you feel the same about him."
I turn around and look him in the eye. Somehow, I know he's not lying, even though the thought that I love Zachary Quinto has never occurred to me before. That's when all the pieces fall into place, when everything adds up. And all I can say is, "Holy shit."
"You had no idea, did you?" Joe says softly.
"Well I fucking should have!" I reply "Shouldn't you know? I mean... I really have been...this whole time. Haven't I?"
"This evidence enough for you?" He asks.
But he isn't talking to me.
I look at his phone, at the screen. He's got Zach on speaker phone. And if I weren't so shaken by my revelation, I would've immediately freaked out. But I know what's coming. I turn and face the door to my hotel room. The handle turns.
Zachary Quinto is standing in the meager living room of my hotel, in Ontario, on Christmas day. He has his iphone in his hand and a look on his face somewhere between schooled nervousness and relief.
"Chris," he says "I'm sorry. Joe wanted to do it this way, wanted to make you figure it out. He dragged me out here and---"
"It's cool," I respond. "I expect this much from Joe. It's really totally fine." Feeling a lack of smug and mischevious presence in the room, I ask "Hey...where did he go?"
Zach and I look around, but Joe is nowhere in sight. A voice comes from Zach's phone, "Just call me the ghost of Christmas past!" Joe says, cheerily "Have fun you two!" and the screen on Zach's phone flashes to signal the end of the call.
"So, Chris...you...," Zach puts his iphone in his pocket and takes a step closer to me.
"And you...," I reply, teasing.
"Yes?" Zach raises an eyebrow.
"You love me." I point out, still slightly baffled "You totally batshit crazy, upside-down sex at 4 in the morning on a Sunday love me."
"Well...I don't know about batshit, but..." Zach grins "Not one hundred percent inaccurate."
"What, you aren't going to say it? Y'know that you love me? Not even one time, just for me? Just me and you in my hotel room in Ontario, really dying to kiss each other and you won't say it?"
"I figure there are better ways to express it," Zach says, taking another step forward, so we're standing chest to chest.
"Ohhhhh."
"Chris?" Zach says, tipping his head back slightly as he places his hands on my upper arms, leaning even further in.
"Yeah?"
"Why don't you go ahead and kiss me, if you're dying to do it?"
So I do. And you know how they say you see fireworks when things are perfect between you and the person you're kissing? Well, this is more like Hiroshima. But a good version of Hiroshima. And that's when I know for sure I'm in love with Zachary Quinto.
This is how it starts. Anything else could've happened, but in the end, it starts with me barefooted, snow from Zach's boots melting into the rough hotel carpet, his still slightly cold hands on my biceps, my arms around his waist, our lips connected in what is possibly the most chaste kiss I've ever experience.
And if this is the start and I already feel as though I could melt into the carpet right with that snow, I pray I never see the end. I might not survive it.