“Whatever you see. Don’t think about it, just pick one.”
“The one on the left.”
“Why?”
“It’s cleaner.”
Liam brought the screen back into his line of vision. “Cleaner? That makes sense. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Did I get it right?”
“There was no right answer, mate. Just opinion, and I needed a fresh one. I’ve been staring at that for weeks. It’s the first piece I’ve done in months and I’m totally freaking out that it’s shite.”
“Piece?”
“Design,” Liam said. “I used to design most of the clothes, back when we just did T-shirts, but I had to quit when the corporate bullshit took over. Pretty sure I’ve lost my mojo.”
Zac reached out and turned the phone screen towards him, studying the sea-blue T-shirts with the cartoon-style fish-shaped surfboard printed on the front and the slogan Battered beneath it. The one on the left—the one he’d picked—was perfect. If Zac closed his eyes, he could easily picture it hugging Liam’s strong frame as he sat behind the wheel of his cherry-red camper. “I like it.”
“Good. Hopefully you’re not the only one. The art director who took my place is a fucking dragon. If it’s shit, we’ll soon know.”
Liam got out of the van. Zac followed suit, stretching his stiff legs. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but fuck if he hadn’t needed it. He’d spent the night with another regular john, trying to avoid anything heavy so he’d be ready for Liam, but dodging the john’s drunken advances had been as exhausting as getting slammed all night, and he was more drained than he had been in a long time.
He bent in front of the wing mirror and fiddled with his hair again. Had those bags beneath his eyes always been there? Next to Liam with his tanned skin and muscles, Zac felt like a scrawny sack of pale bones. The heroin chic incarnation of the Milkybar Kid—
Liam gripped his shoulders and tugged him upright. “Leave it alone. You look fine, better than fine. You’re fucking gorgeous.”
“Pull the other one.”
Liam’s gaze darkened. “I mean it.”
“Yeah?” Zac swallowed the inevitable thrill that came with Liam’s electrifying touch. “And is that what you need with you in there? Who the fuck do these people think I am, anyway?”
“No one yet. I was gonna tell them we were friends. That okay with you?”
Friends. Zac nodded slowly as he turned the word over in his mind. Friends. “Yeah, I like that.”
Liam grinned. “Then friends we are.”
Turned out the inner workings of a clothes factory were pretty boring. The giant sewing machines and rolls of fabric were of little interest to Zac until they came to the printing section and everything changed. Zac stared around at the kaleidoscope of colours and huge screens. “This is so fucking cool.”
“Yeah?” Liam smiled. “It’s probably my favourite part too. I don’t get to play much anymore, though. Too many bullshit meetings and conference calls.”
He rolled his eyes in a way that took ten years off him. If it hadn’t been for the staff around them, Zac would’ve jumped him there and then. Not that Liam’s age bothered him. Why would it when he was by far his youngest client?
“What’s that?” Zac pointed to an intriguing black stencil being applied to white fabric at the back of the room.
“That’s our flagship T-shirt range. It’s coming out in the spring.”
“Can I see?”
“Sure.” Liam approached the young woman operating the screen press. She stopped what she was doing and exchanged a few quiet words with Liam, before giving him a big hug and leaving the room with her lunch bag.
Zac had noticed that everyone in the building had a hug for Liam, like he was a long-lost friend rather than their boss. It was like they all owned a piece of him, and Zac found himself more than a little jealous. He wanted to put his arms around Liam, wanted to hold him and whisper in his ear, though what he would say, he had no clue. Perhaps he wouldn’t say anything. Perhaps he’d just hold Liam and hope it would be enough to ease the subtle pain clouding his gaze.
“Zac?”
Liam was staring at Zac like he’d called his name a hundred times. Oops. “Sorry, what?”
