“I was saying it’s time to up your profile. Stop letting people observe your work passively and start having you actively show its depth.”
He’d created the poems so early in his career. He’d liked the challenge of making the words fit together. Back then, on the rare occasion there had even been a formal opening for a show, he’d only ever been asked to say a few words over a glass of wine before patrons went back to mingling.
Standing in a gallery, reading from one of the carved poems to an audience, would be a different experience. Kenneth would stand at the front of the group, looking smug. Martin would be there too, and Seb would have to protect him when Kenneth—
“Hey!” Kenneth’s voice snapped him back to reality again. “Where the hell do you keep going?”
“Sorry. Sure. Reading. Set it up. What’s the worst that can happen?”
“You’ll crash and burn and become the laughing stock of the North Carolina art community?”
Sebastian snorted. Kenneth was his biggest cheerleader, but also kept him firmly tethered to reality at all times.
“So tell me more about the shy boy downstairs.” Kenneth tucked one leg underneath him where he sat.
“Nope. We’re not going there. You’re like a dog with a bone.”
“You said he’s single. Why wouldn’t I? Unless you’re already—”
“No.” A few days had passed since Martin confided his whole story to Seb, and it had stuck with him. He regretted even more giving Martin a hard time about his career, when Martin was doing everything he could to claw back to some semblance of functionality.
“So you’re not interested in him?” Kenneth grinned.
Was Seb interested? It was complicated. Martin, with his soft eyes and crooked smile, was cutely uneven. But beyond any attraction was a different kind of desire. Seb was in no position to be anyone’s lifeline, but he wanted to help Martin get back to himself.
“It’s not like that. He’s just—He’s had a hard time of it lately. He doesn’t need you screwing around with him.”
“Sounds like it might be exactly what he needs.” Kenneth’s grin turned lascivious.
“I said no, all right?” Seb’s jaw tightened. Kenneth could never be what Martin needed. He was too selfish. Too flighty. “This is my town and my people, including Martin. You can’t waltz in here unannounced for a weekend and start looking for fuck buddies just because the pool in the city is getting shallow. You’re the one who drained it.”
Kenneth turned to stare up the ceiling with a weary sigh. “You used to be more fun than this. You need to get out of here more often.”
Seb ran a hand through his hair. He didn’t mean to lecture, but the idea of Kenneth flirting with and possibly fooling around with Martin made him feel unexpectedly protective. “Sorry. I’m tired. I haven’t been sleeping much.”
Kenneth rose to his feet and pressed his hands to Seb’s cheeks, squeezing them until his lips puckered out. “I understand. You just leave it all to Uncle Kenneth. Now take me out for dinner. Is there anywhere in this town with a menu that isn’t eighty percent deep fried?”
* * *
Martin liked Saturdays best. The groups kept the store busy, and Cassidy worked the whole day with him.
She’d brought him her application packages for art school, though, which was proving challenging. Most of the schools had a general personal statement requirement, and many of the art programs wanted a separate artist’s statement about the vision she had for her work.
“I don’t know what to say.” She stared down at the blinking cursor on her laptop. “I can’t just tell them I want to go to art school because it’s the only thing I’m good at.”
“Not the only thing,” Martin said.
“Just about.” She sounded defeated, and they’d barely started.
“That’s not true. You’re a big help around here, and I know the Mommy and Me group really appreciates the books you pick out for them every week.” While the chaos of so many pre-schoolers still made Martin flinch, Cassidy seemed to revel in it.
“Yeah, but that’s not a skill. I’m only good at drawing and picking out kids’ books. I can’t say that in an essay.”
“People of Seacroft! Good morning!”
Seb and Kenneth emerged from the shelves. Kenneth’s scarf and umbrella were gone. Instead, he wore a houndstooth sweater and slim fitting pants. Seb walked half a step behind him in his usual jeans and leather jacket, eyes twinkling with amusement as his friend strode through the store.
“Dr. Lindsey!” Kenneth said as he approached the cash register. “It’s nice to see you again today.”
