Better Than Safe (24 page)

“Not my style. I don’t do any plein air painting. I usually sketch, then work it out in my studio.”

“How do you use the colored pencils?”

“I map out where I want color, how strong it should be, and where to add texture. I didn’t get much done. I was hoping you’d show up and inspire me. Now I can title the piece ‘The Key Bridge in July with Paul.’”

He flashed a wide, brilliant grin over his shoulder, then leaned back against my knee before setting his red cup aside and picking up his sketch. I purposefully ignored the bit about me offering inspiration, but I was curious about the rest.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t come?”

“You didn’t answer my text, so I wasn’t sure.”

“I wasn’t either,” I admitted, glancing at the glittering effect of the sun’s reflection on the Potomac. “I’m sorry. I should have called. I… I wasn’t sure you wouldn’t change your mind or—”

“Hey. It’s cool. I’m a flake. Why bother? I’m just glad you’re here.” He picked up his pencil and got to work with his head cocked in sudden concentration. I let the silence stretch, deciding it was best to let it be. But as I turned his words over in my head, I couldn’t let it go.

“You
are
a flake.”

“Thank you or fuck you. Take your pick.” Seth sat up, but didn’t glance at me. He kept his gaze on his paper.

“You do it on purpose, I think. It’s a defense mechanism, isn’t it?”

“Definitely fuck you.”

I snickered at his deadpan delivery as I smoothed my hand over his head, reveling in the feel of his heat and smell. I loved having him near me like this, leaning on me as he worked. The river was pretty in the summertime with the countless brightly colored boats dotting the water and the shoreline. The skies were blue. The sunlight was at a perfect position, casting a golden glow over the trees behind us and over the impressive bridge to our left. Sipping good Chardonnay with Seth so close was heaven. I was suddenly very glad I’d come, though a bit chagrined I may have hurt his feelings.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to hurt your feelings.”

Seth chuckled. “It takes a little more than an honest observation to hurt my feelings. I get… caught up sometimes and forget where I’m supposed to be. Like a flaky artist, I s’pose. I don’t really know if it’s a defense mechanism, but who knows? Everybody has something. What’s yours?”

“Hmm. I can be a little….” I shrugged and looked out at the horizon.

“Snobby?”

“Perhaps. I don’t mean to be, but yes. Every once in a while I catch myself putting up an invisible wall and—”

“The ‘don’t fuck with me wall,’ huh? I’ve seen it. I think I’ve actually drawn it a couple times. Let me see.” He picked up another notebook lying nearby and turned a few pages before handing it to me. “I use this other sketchpad when I want to draw a real likeness.”

I set my cup on the blanket before taking the sketchpad. Instinctively I knew this was important. My stomach was strangely alight with butterflies when I glanced at the first page. It was a drawing of me on the train with the reflection of the window giving a hint at my companion. I turned the page. The next was me sitting in a chair, cradling a cocktail as I leaned forward in earnest conversation. It was clearly from the night he came to my hotel room in Baltimore. Bloody hell. I swallowed hard, afraid to look at him. And more afraid to turn the page. I licked my upper lip.

“You don’t like them.” He didn’t sound offended. Only curious.

“No. That’s not it. You’re brilliant. Honestly. I didn’t realize you were so detailed. Your painting is much more expressionistic and—”

“But you don’t like that I drew you. How come?”

Fuck. A boisterous group of kayakers made a loud whooping noise as they set out on the placid water. I shamelessly used the diversion to consider how to answer Seth without sounding paranoid. Or ridiculous. He stared at me expectantly, no doubt thinking my reaction was melodramatic. I should be flattered, not reduced to theatric silence. I traced his jaw and removed my sunglasses so there would be no barrier between us.

“I’m afraid to be an artist’s muse. I’m sorry. It’s a by-product of my years with a madman.”

“Simon. Hmm.” He sighed deeply, then cocked his head as though he were trying to see an invisible object under a microscope. Something he knew was there but couldn’t quite focus on. “I think I get it… but I don’t like it.”

I set my aviator sunglasses back on my nose. I was going to sound ridiculous, so I may as well use whatever armor was available while I tried to explain myself.

“Muses don’t last. The ones that do usually lead tortured existences where they slowly lose themselves to feed someone else’s ego. I’ve seen it countless times. I saw it with my parents and hell, I lived it with Simon.” I paused in an attempt to gather my thoughts. “I—I’m not suggesting you’re using me and I really don’t want him to invade this… us. I’m simply saying….”

I shook my head in defeat. I didn’t know what I was saying anymore. Ridiculous was too light a word. I’d managed to sound pathetic as well.

“I’m not using you.”

“I know. Seth, I—I’m not sure what we’re doing, but I like it. I like you. True, you’re flaky and unconventional, but you’re oddly charming too. I’m drawn to you. I tell myself over and over, this isn’t a good idea, but… here I am.” I huffed humorlessly and glanced away for a moment to gather my thoughts. “I’m thirty-five. I can’t help thinking about boring things like settling down and building a life with someone. Things I doubt even cross your mind at twenty-four. I’m afraid to get in too deep, but then I realize I’m desperately out of touch, because I’m already treading water. Does that… does that make any sense?”

“Sure. You’re old and want to settle down with a boring doctor or maybe a lawyer, but you’ll fuck around with me until he shows up as long as I stay away from using words like ‘muse.’ Did I get that right?”

“You are a bloody nuisance.” I chuckled, leaning forward to kiss him roughly. He responded by shifting to sit up on his knees. He raked his fingers through my hair and angled his mouth to deepen the connection. My heart did a funny flip, a perfect counterbalance to the plummeting sensation I’d felt earlier. With it came a strong surge of affection. I pulled away gently to stare into Seth’s expressive eyes.

“Hey, I spend a lot of time daydreaming. I draw to capture moments or memories that inspire me so I don’t leave out important details when I get to my studio. I drew a picture of that kid….” He sifted through the sketchbook and handed it over with a funny grin. “Remember the one with the orange fingers from the coffee shop? He made me laugh. And so did you. You were so freaked-out. I drew the one of you on the train ’cause you were so pissy and part of me couldn’t blame you, but another part of me was fascinated by your poise. You made me curious. I could go on, but what I’m trying to say is I saw orange and I laughed. Somehow it will go into my work. I saw a hot, cranky dude on a train who wanted nothing to do with me and I saw blue and gray and inspiration and anger and challenge and….”

Seth stared into the distance for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. He quirked his generous mouth into a provocative grin and turned to kiss me softly. He didn’t pull away immediately. I savored the feel of his breath on my lips. The sweet taste of Chardonnay, warm sunlight, and something uniquely Seth.

“I like being around you. I get… buzzy sometimes, where I can’t concentrate and I get easily frustrated. But then I call you or text you and you respond with some oh-so-proper comment and I feel… grounded. In touch. I get that I’m not who you want to spend the rest of your life with. I’m cool with living in the moment. I’m actually kind of a genius at it.” He scoffed with a self-deprecating shrug. “What if we try to do it together for a while?”

I was rendered speechless. I opened and closed my mouth like a codfish. Once again, he’d shocked the hell out of me. There was a raw quality to his ineloquent speech that was… touching and sweet.

“Live in the moment?”

Seth smiled wickedly. He slid his hand over my crotch and squeezed as he leaned in to bite my stubbled chin, then soothed the skin by licking a path along my jaw.

“Let’s go someplace where we can live in the moment without clothes. What do ya say?”

I rolled my eyes and grabbed his arm when he sat back to reach for the picnic basket. “Wait. I—I’m not looking for a doctor or a lawyer. I’m simply a realist who doesn’t want his heart chopped to bits. You’re daft. Absolutely mad sometimes, but I don’t want to be anywhere else either. So yes, let’s….”

“It’s a bad sign when the ad guy can’t finish a sentence,” he commented smugly. “Don’t make it harder than it is, Paul. We’re cool until one of us says we’re over it.”

“I’m not sure I’d put it quite like that, but—”

“Concentrate on now. I think
now
would be a great time to go back to your place… or mine….” He bit my bottom lip, then licked the swollen flesh before continuing, “And fuck.

“You are going to be the death of me,” I whispered.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

O
UR
RIVERSIDE
conversation was the beginning of a new chapter. Airing my fears enabled me to let go and stop worrying about things beyond my control. I could simply enjoy the perks of having a gorgeous younger man in my bed who made me laugh as often as he aggravated me. We both knew where we stood, and for now it was perfect.

Or mostly perfect.

“I brought my Xbox,” he announced with a mischievous grin. “What do you want to play first? Madden or NBA?”

I gave him a blank stare as I tried to make sense of his words and coolly took in his ensemble. He wore a black hoodie and carried a satchel across his body and a helmet in his left hand. The combination was odd, but very Seth. Modern sophisticate meets rebel punk.

“You can’t come in,” I replied haughtily, closing the front door in his face.

He knocked again on cue. I opened it halfway and narrowed my eyes suspiciously.

“I’ll buy Chinese,” he sang playfully.

I huffed to indicate I wasn’t impressed. “I can buy my own Chinese, thank you very much.”

He set his hand on the door before I closed it a second time. “Yeah, but it’s way more fun to eat it naked in bed after a blow job. Unless you’re more limber than I know, I don’t think you can pull all that off by yourself. You need me.”

“For the blow job?”

“Yep.”

“Hmph. All right. You can come in. Chinese food and a blow job or three. But no video games.”

I stepped aside to let him pass, curling an arm around his slim waist and kissing his mouth briefly before closing the door.

“Come on, Daddy. Please!” He stomped his foot and scrunched his face into a childish pout.

“You’re an idiot. Don’t call me that. I know what you’re up to, but I’m immune to your taunting. The answer is still no, but feel free to place a double order of the chicken fried rice and don’t forget egg rolls. Wine?”

Seth heaved a dramatic sigh as he set his bag and helmet aside. “Yes. Red, please.”

I kissed him again before heading toward the kitchen to take care of the wine. When I returned a few minutes later, Seth was pulling a game console and cables from his bag. He set a black box on the designer distressed coffee table and was about to attach a cable to the flat screen television when I coughed loudly to alert him he’d been caught red-handed.

He grinned widely. “Hey.”

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m changing your mind.”

“My mind cannot be changed. Did you order the food?”

“Yep. Take a seat and be prepared to get your ass kic—I mean, to have fun.”

“Seth. That’s a very expensive tel—”

“Relax. I’m not gonna break it.” He brushed his hair behind his ear as he attached a cable to the flat screen. He went back to his bag, pulled out two wireless controllers, and held one out to me.

I rolled my eyes as I moved past him to set the wineglasses on the coffee table before taking a seat in the corner of the sofa. I propped a pillow under my right arm and made a show of picking up a magazine from the end table before reaching for my wine. It was Friday night and I was exhausted. I’d been glad Seth had suggested a quiet night in with takeout food. Now I wasn’t so sure. He wasn’t easy to ignore and he was relentless. And tenacious. I took a healthy sip of wine and did my best to tear my gaze from the exposed skin of his lower back. He’d taken his sweatshirt off and was wearing a snug-fitted dark tee that rode enticingly up his back when he bent over to pick up the video game box.

“Okay, we’re in business. I’m going to set up our teams. Who do you want to be?”

I lifted my eyes to give him a scornful look before glancing down to focus on the impossibly pristine home featured in an architectural magazine. No one lived like that and still had a heartbeat, I mused, turning the page.

“’Cause I’m a nice guy, I’ll give you the Patriots. Try not to kill their record in a single blow. I’ll be the Seahawks. Here’s how this goes. Just the basics. Your QB is Tom Brady. He’s accurate and has a powerful throw. His favorite target is—”

“I think our food is here.” I tilted my head toward the door, indicating he should answer it when the bell chimed.

Seth gave me a perturbed stare before gamely setting his controller down and heading for the door. I heard soft voices nearby, but pointedly ignored him until he returned with the takeout.

“I’ll grab a couple plates and forks, your highness. Need anything else?”

“Napkins,” I said, struggling to keep a straight face when he turned with an exaggerated huff toward the kitchen.

He returned with the dishes and sat on the edge of the sofa, carefully divvying out a portion of the incredible smelling takeout. He handed me a plate piled high with chicken fried rice, two egg rolls, and something I didn’t recognize.

“What’s this?”

“You’re welcome. Geesh, what happened to those posh manners?” He shook his head in mock disbelief then glanced at my plate. “That is Ma Po tofu. Try it, you’ll like it.”