Why did I shove him? It’s forgotten now. He looks like a puppy as he stares down at me with those dark eyes, brown hair disheveled and falling onto his forehead. Maybe he gives me cute aggression. Instead of answering with useless words, I lean up on my tiptoes and kiss his nose.
We both stare at each other in shock when I pull away.
“What’s going on here?” Mason calls from behind us.
I look over my shoulder to find Mason with a coffee mug in hand and a frown on his face. Fuck.
“Nice to see you again,” Dante says casually.
“Likewise.” Mason’s eyes flit to me. “I didn’t realize you had a guest.”
“It was just…”
“We’re dating,” Dante announces, then pushes me away and flees out the door. Oh my God, that motherfucker.
“Oh?” Mason says with wide eyes.
“We’re… that’s not… he just…”
“He seems sweet. You puked on him, broke his nose, and he brought you home to tuck you in. You could do much worse, Reid.”
I glower at Mason’s back as he swings around to return to the kitchen. Maybe I should tell him that Dante likes me to literally choke on his cock. I doubt he’d be saying I could do much worse then.
Sundays usually mean Mason and I spend the day avoiding each other in the townhome. This is best done by Mason working in his study, while I hide away in my room to sketch. No reason to break tradition now.
I isolate myself in my room with coffee and a croissant that I pick at for the better part of the morning. I draw Dante again, but this time with the familiarity of someone who’s kissed the mouth they’re drawing. He has a sweet Cupid’s bow that’s hard to capture, but I do my best. The broad sweep of his shoulders reminds me of old Superman cartoons, the triangle of the shoulders to the thin waist. Dante has the perfect body, made for strength and danger. But my drawings don’t do him justice.
I never texted Dante like he told me to, mostly because I’m not convinced I’ll see him again. The urge to do something reckless, something stupid eats away at me, but maybe just in case he does come back, it’s worth behaving. Just a little.
Mason knocks on my door around dinnertime.
“It’s fine,” I call out. Our universal code for permission to enter a room.
The smell of homemade chicken soup fills the room, making my mouth water and stomach gurgle with hunger pains. Mason’s smile is soft when he sets the hot soup down on the nightstand beside my bed. There’s a glass of orange juice and some toast as well. I swallow loudly, then lift my gaze back to Mason’s.
“Thank you,” I say softly.
Mason’s lips twitch at the corners. “You’re welcome. Are you staying home tonight?”
I drop my gaze back to my desk, only then just realizing my sketchbook is still open. Slamming it closed, I rub my fingers over the supple leather cover.
“Yes. I don’t think I’ll be going out much anymore.”
“Oh?” Mason asks with one curious eyebrow raised. “That’s good. We can watch some football if you like or something on a streaming service. Whatever you want.”
“Yeah… I’ll come down after I eat.”
Mason grins and backs out of the room. I eat slowly as I type out a text message to Dante. My finger hovers over the send button for a while before I gather the courage to tap it.
You have my number now. Happy?
Secondslater my phone screen illuminates with a message.
Dante
Immensely. I’ll text you tomorrow.
I smile despite myself.
