HARRY: Me, I'm just a simple guy living the simple life in Mulligan's Mill. I run the hardware store. No one here suspects I'm gay--least of all that I've been quietly in love with Dean Reeves for years. He's my best friend's son. I watched him grow up gentle and gifted, always strumming something on his guitar, lost in his music. But when he turned eighteen--when he stepped out of his backyard music studio, taller, broader, with something magnetic about him-- I haven't been able to unsee it since. Now he's a real-life rock star, and he's coming back to town for a break. Just for a while, he says. DEAN: I tell everyone I just need a break from LA--the noise, the pressure, the weird messages from that stalker. But the real reason I'm going back? Harry Dalton . . . my dad's best friend. He was always there when I was growing up, but after I turned eighteen, something shifted. I started noticing the way his forearms flexed when he lifted lumber, the way his laugh rumbled low in his chest. I've been trying to convince myself it's just a crush. That he'd never look twice at a kid like me, especially now that fame and fortune have left their dirty marks on me. But I still can't stop thinking about him. Coming home is supposed to be temporary. But if Harry looks at me like I'm not just some kid with a guitar . . . I don't think I'll ever want to leave again.