“Fuck, no. I don’t even know why we bothered with the posters.” He uncrossed his arms for the first time since I’d arrived. “We were just keen as shit and didn’t really know what we were doing. Spent money on all the wrong things, made the usual mistakes you make when you want to make it big but don’t have the first clue how to do it.”
“So why did you frame this poster? What is it you like about it?”
“I like the black-and-white,” he said, considering. “And I thought it was kinda cool. The image is simple, but you keep wanting to look at it, figure it out… kind of like an ink blot or something.”
“What do you feel when you look at it?”
That gave him pause. Like maybe he’d never thought about that before.
“I guess… I just remember how we felt when we made it,” he said. “I guess it reminds me of that time. A time before managers and record companies and fans and everyone else having a say. It was just us, these four kids in a band. We had these huge dreams, all these things we wanted to do. And we really thought we’d do them. We were exploding with the music. With all our crazy ideas. With hormones…” He glanced at me, then studied the poster again. “It was this gorgeous, innocent time in our lives. We were standing on the edge of this massive abyss. The unknown… And we were so damn ready to dive right into it. We had no idea what was in store for us… and we couldn’t wait.”
“Do you feel that way now?”
His blue eyes met mine. “Really wish I did.”
“See,” I said, “that. That thing you feel when you look at this, that thing you felt when you made this poster, that’s what I want you to feel when you walk in the door after I’m done with your home.”
He just stared at me.
And the look in his eyes?
It was back again. Thatlookhe’d given me that first night in the rain. That unnerving combo of smoldering and broken and… searching?
It felt, somehow, like he was delving deep inside me with that look… when we weren’t even talking about me.
“I, um, took the liberty of using this poster as inspiration,” I went on, stumbling a bit under the force of his gaze. “I assumed it had meaning to you, and visually it’s the most interesting thing in your home right now. And the black-and-white suits you, I think. We can do black-and-white, if that’s what you like, steel and wood, modernize the furniture, make it more livable for you and the friends you want to entertain here. And when we get that TV stand out of the way, I see a music nook for you. Right by those big windows in the corner, with that view.”
I headed over to the windows again while he stood there, watching me as I laid it out for him.
“We can put in a couple of window seats, here,” I told him. “I found these great benches, solid wood but with a low profile so they’re not blocking too much window. We can throw in some cushions, stands for your guitars, a small shelving unit against the TV wall, if you need a place for notes or whatever… I offer organizing services, too, if you like. I’ve got some fantastic organizing systems I can put into cupboards and closets so that there’s a place for everything. That way, we can clear away the little piles of clutter off the floor… all those music magazines and your guitars. Get them out of your bedroom, and leave the bedroom for what it’s meant for.”
“Sounds good,” he said, and his eyes definitely darkened when I said that last part. Then he looked at my mouth.
I totally didn’t mean sex. I meant sleeping.Leave the bedroom for sleeping.Why didn’t I say that?
“I, uh, feel like bedrooms are often overlooked, especially by bachelors,” I said, reallytryingnot to blush. “Some guys just treat it like a place to crash. But the fact is you spend a third of your life sleeping in there, so it should be comfortable, right?”
I gestured toward the bedroom and he followed me in.
He still had little piles of magazines, clothes, everywhere. But I noticed the women’s lingerie was gone.
I shouldn’t have cared either way.Professional.
But yeah, I noticed.
“First,” I told him, “I’d recommend a declutter. It’s cool if you want to play guitar in here, but let’s have a place to put the guitars away in your music nook. I’d clear out this old table you have, put in a set of bedside tables with matching lamps.”
I glanced at him. He said nothing, but he was still listening.
“It may sound cheesy,” I went on, “but it’s nice to do all these things in sets of two, even if you’re single now, so that there’s room to bring the relationship you want into your life. I mean… if you want that.”
“What if I need three?” he said.
“Three… what?”
He stared at me with that blank but somehow smoldering look he’d perfected into a gorgeous art form. “Three of everything.”
“Uh… Oh.”
