Where we’re going to stay.
CHAPTERTWENTY
RAFAEL
“Oh wow,I just thought of something.”
Alexander and I are lying in bed the next morning, a big bowl of granola between us and a couple of cups of coffee on the nightstands. He woke up first and got it all, then snuggled me awake, too. In a lot of ways, it’s just a usual, sleepy morning, except you know it’s something special when Alexander is skipping beach clean.
“What did you think of?” I ask him.
“We have to tell our friends.”
We lock eyes, then both laugh. I’m sure everyone is going to have a million questions and tease us endlessly, which is fair. We spent years insisting that we’re just friends.
“I’m actually kind of excited to tell them,” I say, then push my glasses up.
Alexander grins. “Me, too.”
I chuckle. “I’m proud, except I don’t want to go through telling every single person.”
Alexander laughs. “Me, either.”
“Should we just send a mass text?” I ask, then shake my head.
He scrunches up his face. “A post on Instagram? That doesn’t sound right.” Then his eyes pop open as an idea hits him. “What if we send a mess text to tell everyone and then invite them out for drinks tonight? Then we can get it all over with at once.”
I tap his nose, which makes him laugh. “You,” I say, “are brilliant.”
Alexander grabs his phone and immediately starts typing into it. “We’ll make the drinks early,” he says. “Right after work.”
I’m so comfortable and happy, just resting on top of the blankets with Alexander, both in our underwear and still dazed from last night’s sex. I keep leaning over and kissing him, and he writhes and twitches and kisses me back.
I wish I could call in sick, but considering things at the tattoo shop, that’s not an option. It makes me uncomfortable, that I haven’t shared the story with Alexander yet. But here in our apartment, laughing and drinking coffee together while the sun inches across the room, everything is perfect.
I can’t bear to bring it all crashing down with another one of my fuck-ups, not this morning.
Soon enough, Alexander has to get off to the library, and it’s time for me to face the music anyway. We jump in the shower, where we end up kissing and jerking each other off, then both rush to get out the door. Before I leave, I sit there on the front steps with my backpack, carefully thinking through everything I need for the day, trying to center myself.
I’m grateful that it’s a pretty normal, chill day. It’s Friday, so Billie, Joey, and Stone are all in. None of them seem disappointed in me, which makes sense. Caesar is a stern, quiet man, not just with me, but with pretty much everyone in the shop. He wouldn’t talk to the other artists about my screwup, but just knowing that Caesar knows is shameful enough.
The other artists do tease me a little about Alexander, though, and they all make promises to stop by for drinks after work. Being included helps ease some of my anxiety, although certainly not all of it.
Halfway through the afternoon, Caesar comes into the shop. He goes straight to his room, and I hear the noise of him getting ready to work. I’m not sure if I should run back and see if he needs anything, but he lumbers up front first, points directly at me, and gestures for me to come back.
“More work with the big guy,” Billie says, then winks at me. “Have fun.”
I force a smile. My stomach is tight. If he’s about to fire me, then I’m going to go straight from declaring my love to Alexander one night, then telling him I’m broke and jobless the next, the scenario I was most hoping to avoid.
Great thing our friends will all be gathered together. It will really make my failure as an artist a memorable event.
When I get back into Caesar’s room, he doesn’t offer me a chair. My hands are fidgeting by my side, and I feel nauseous. “Is there anything I can do for you?” I ask, trying hard to keep my voice steady.
Caesar eyes me. “Did you bring your sketchbooks today?”
“Yes,” I answer quickly. “Up front.”
“Leave one for me. I might look at it.” He frowns. I can tell he’s not happy with me, but I don’t think he’s going to yell, either. “You’re on probation,” he finally says. “You so much as forget to flush the fucking toilet, you’re fired. Understand?”
