14. Archer
Chapter 14
Archer
It turned out that I was dying to get my hands on Shane. I wanted him in my chair. Leaving my ink on his body would feel like marking him as mine. It would be like claiming him, even though I didn’t have the right. He didn’t belong to me. That was a pipe dream. One day soon, Shane was going to wake up and go back to being his responsible self, but until then I intended to enjoy his attention.
I was dangerously close to becoming attached to Shane. It was an unenviable position to be in. Friends with benefits with an expiration date of whenever Shane grew tired of risking his friendship with Cyrus. That was one of the reasons I itched to get him in my chair. I wanted Shane to have some part of me to take with him. That way I could pretend that once upon a time I’d been important to him. Even if it had only been for a few minutes.
The Anchor was packed when I made my way inside. There was an empty seat at the bar and I made my way over to it before anyone got any bright ideas. I slid onto the stool and caught Shane’s eye. He smiled at me and finished serving the other customers first before making his way over to me.
“It’s busy tonight.” I said when he appeared in front of me. God, he was fucking hot. Tight jeans, button down with the sleeves rolled up revealing his forearms. Fucking suspenders. They should be illegal. Apparently my dick liked suspenders. I raked my gaze over him, committing him to memory.
“It’s insane. I probably won’t have a chance to look at your work tonight.” Shane looked genuinely sad about that. “Can I get you anything? It’s on the house.”
“Whatever’s on tap is fine.” I pulled my wallet out and counted out a couple bills. “And the burger of the day.”
“We don’t have a burger of the day.”
“Just a cheeseburger with bacon, extra pickles.” I put my money on the bar, but Shane ignored it. Instead of ringing my order in, Shane went to the kitchen to tell Cyrus that he needed a burger. I motioned for Mickey, the other bartender, to come over.
“Is there a way to ring in a cheeseburger without Shane noticing?”
Mickey grinned at me and shook his head. “Sorry, but Shane does what Shane wants.”
“I’d ask how he can afford to constantly give shit away, but I know the answer to that.” I looked around until I located the tip jar. Before Shane came back, I tucked my money into the jar and took my seat again.
Shane returned a second later and had to pour a bunch of drinks to catch up. I loved watching him work. He smiled at everyone like they were an old friend he hadn’t seen in a while. He was funny and he had an excellent memory for what people usually asked for.
Without thinking too much about it, I moved my drink out of the way and took my sketchbook from my bag. My samples were tucked away safely in a different folder, but I never left home without my sketchbook. I set it on the bar and grabbed a pencil out of my bag and got to work sketching Shane. He caught on right away, but rather than ask to see it or come badger me with questions, he left me alone except for the occasional glance my way .
When my dinner arrived, I had a rough sketch of Shane. I planned to fill it in with the details later, but I was more interested in capturing the way he looked like he belonged there, totally at home behind the bar. It made my chest ache because I wanted that for myself.
Shane set my plate down next to me and nudged it closer. “Even Michelangelo needed to eat.”
I relented and flipped my sketchbook shut and tucked it away. Shane slid my burger in front of me. Snatching a fry off my plate, I held his gaze and popped it in my mouth.
“I know you’re busy tonight, but you could come over after and see the samples. That way you can take your time looking them over.”
I loved the way his cheeks flushed and his gaze heated when he looked at me. Maybe one day I’d sit down here while he closed out the bar and then have my wicked way with him in unsanitary places. I wasn’t exactly tall enough to bend him over the bar and fuck him, but I could improvise.
“Can I think about it?” Shane asked.
It sounded like a no. Like he didn’t want to, but couldn’t figure out how to tell me in front of a bar full of people. It was possible that I was reading too much into it, but I’d already gotten my hopes up.
I plucked another fry off my plate. “Of course,” I told him before eating it. I tried to make my face as neutral as possible. Sure, I was disappointed, but I was hardly surprised. Shane was the epitome of an upstanding person. If he were a cartoon character, he’d be both the fairy godmother and Jiminy Cricket all wrapped up in one hot-as-fuck package.
I finished my burger and fries like a good boy. I thought about staying downstairs and sketching Shane some more, but it was like being a kid with no money, standing outside the bakery looking at all the cookies you couldn’t have. Sliding off my stool, I caught Shane’s gaze and motioned toward the door. He was buried in drink orders and I saw the way his happy mask slipped for a second when he realized I was leaving.
It shouldn’t have made me feel good, but it did. I liked believing that he liked having me there, even if he was too busy to talk. I didn’t mind that either. Watching him work was a pleasure in itself, but I’d had enough torture for one night.
I shot him a smile and a nod and then tucked tail and left. As I was going out, more people were coming in. Shane had his work cut out for him tonight. It was best that I went upstairs and kept to myself, and freed up space for paying customers.
The soundproofing between the floors was good, but not one hundred percent. The bass of the music thumped through the floor like a heartbeat as I set my bag down on the couch and toed my shoes off. It wasn’t loud like a club would’ve been, but it was still as loud as you’d expect living above a bar to be.
I changed out of my jeans into a pair of loose-fitting sleep pants and a shirt that had seen better days. During daylight hours, I kept the blinds open, but at night it made me feel like a bug in a jar, so I quickly closed them before settling down on the couch with my sketchbook.
Instead of finishing the sketch I started downstairs, I flipped to a new page and started over. Of course it was Shane I drew again, but this time I drew him the way I liked to see him best. Naked and trembling for me. All bare skin and big, soulful eyes. Thinking about him was a dangerous pastime. It made me want things I shouldn’t.
Shane had already given me so much, but yet I still wanted more. Not money or things. The only space I wanted was one inside his heart. The way he looked at me made my chest ache.
My art had been the thing I’d doggedly pursued since I was old enough to hold a pencil. It had been my escape and my comfort, and when Clayton had taken off, it had yanked the rug out from under me.
My biggest fear was that I’d never find a way to get my shop back. Moving in with Cyrus and Marshall had been a blow to my ego, but losing my shop had been a knife to my soul.
Then Shane waltzed in and handed it all back to me. A chance to rekindle the dream was more than I’d hoped for. I knew I shouldn’t want more. That enticing him over time and time again was selfish of me, but I couldn’t stop. I’d never found someone who fit me so completely. Someone who gave himself to me with enthusiasm the way Shane did. And as well as he fit me, I fit him too. I saw the way he looked at me sometimes. His emotions lived close to the surface and it was never hard to guess his mood or his thoughts.
I filled in the long lines of his body. The broadness of his chest and the whorls of hair around his nipples and belly button. I drew the softness of his stomach. No matter how talented I was, no one would be able to tell how firm he was underneath unless they’d been close enough—lucky enough—to touch him.
A glance at the time told me that the kitchen had closed an hour ago now and I knew Cyrus would be gone. Unable to resist, I pulled my phone out and sent Shane a text asking if he wanted company.
He answered a minute later, telling me the rush had died down and there were only a few stragglers if I wanted to come sit at the bar.
I didn’t bother locking my door because the outside door locked automatically. I was about to go around when the door between the bar and the upstairs swung open.
“How about you come through here. It’s faster.”
“Are you sure the owner won’t mind? I wouldn’t want to get in trouble. ”
Shane stepped closer and shut the door behind him. “I talked to the owner about it first and he’s fine with it.”
Winding my arms around Shane’s neck, I pulled him down until our lips grazed against each other. “I heard the owner is hot.”
“Oh, did you?” Amusement colored Shane’s voice.
“Mmhm. Super fucking hot.”
“It sounds like a lie.”
I shut him up with a kiss. His arms came around me and he pulled me close, moaning into me, giving himself to me already, before pulling away all too soon.
“Work. I’m at work.”
“Good thing you can’t fire yourself for making out on the clock.” I released him from my hold reluctantly and let him lead the way back to the bar. Mickey was still working, but didn’t look twice at me as I came in and took a seat at my usual stool.
It was different to be there when Shane didn’t have a plethora of thirsty customers to deal with.
“Do you want a drink?”
“Water is fine,” I said. I’d had a beer with dinner and that was more than enough for one day.
Shane filled a glass with ice water and set it in front of me. “You didn’t bring your sketchbook,” he said.
“If I brought it down, you’d have no excuse to come up after work. And where’s the fun in that?”
Shane shook his head. Mickey staunchly ignored us both, scurrying off to wipe down empty tables. And I sat and drank my ice water and pictured all the dirty things I wanted to do with those fucking suspenders. Who knew suspenders were so hot?