Chapter 9 Vincent
NINE
VINCENT
Waking up next to Beau is a dream. I snuggle into him, enjoying the warmth and softness of his body.
It’s been too long since someone shared my bed.
I’m picky about who I bring home and even pickier about who stays the night.
This is my castle, with so many parts of me clinging to the walls.
It’s the pieces of art that I don’t sell because I can’t bear to part with them.
The place where I can be myself without anyone asking questions.
“Morning,” Beau says, his voice rough and low. “What time is it?”
“Early,” I say, running my hand down his side and over his hip.
“Go back to sleep,” he grumbles.
So, clearly not a morning person. I could’ve guessed that. He doesn’t seem like the type to wake up happy and ready to go. I suspect it takes at least two cups of coffee before we hit that.
My apartment is devoid of coffee, but thankfully, that’s easily remedied with a quick trip to Lobelia. I’ve never been so happy to live so close.
“Be right back.”
“M’kay,” he mumbles, burying his face in the pillow. I chuckle quietly. I’m pretty sure he’s already back asleep.
I use the bathroom and throw on enough clothes to be decent before quietly leaving the apartment.
In the café, I get him a large caramel latte, the same thing I’ve seen him drink multiple times.
I grab a few pastries as well, not wanting to worry about cooking this morning.
We can eat in bed since I’ll need to change the sheets anyway.
As much as I’d like the scent of him to linger, we made a pretty good mess of them.
If I’m lucky, we’ll get them a little bit dirtier before he leaves this morning. And, if not, maybe we can do it all over again. Soon.
When I walk back through the front door, balancing the drinks in my hand, I spot Beau, face down, in the same position I left him. I try to stay quiet, but he jerks awake when the door closes a little too hard.
“What’s wrong?” he shouts at me.
“Nothing,” I say, gently. The man in my bed is sitting straight up, the sheets pooling around his waist as he gets his bearings.
Waking up in a strange place is always hard.
“I brought us some sustenance.” His gaze catches on the coffee cups in my hand, and he relaxes.
“I thought maybe you’d need a little caffeine. ”
As soon as I hand over his latte, he gulps down at least half of it. “Sorry. I don’t function well without coffee.”
“It’s no problem.” I make a note to buy a coffee maker.
If Beau is going to be staying here—and I hope this isn’t a one-time thing—then I need to be able to caffeinate him.
“I have some scones, too.” That café makes the best lemon poppyseed scones I’ve ever had.
I’m convinced that they use witchcraft to make them.
It’s the only explanation for how they make them so sweet and tart at the same time.
Beau takes one from my hands and takes a small bite. “Oh my God. These are incredible.”
I grin, taking a weird sense of pride in the fact that I was able to pick something he likes. We sit in silence for a few minutes, savoring the sugar and the early morning.
“Why are you dressed?” Beau asks suddenly.
I nearly spit out my tea laughing. “The café is pretty chill, but they draw the line at showing up naked.” He bites the edge of his lip, clearly thinking something he isn’t sure he should say. “Would you like me to take them off?”
“Yes? I mean, or I could put mine on. It’s a little weird to be the only one naked.”
“I like you this way.” I let my gaze linger over his body.
I love the way his tan skin looks against the backdrop of my bedding.
I’d love to take pictures of it; he’s got skin that would show up beautifully in images.
That’s not the kind of thing I can ask on a first date.
Or whatever this is. Maybe someday in the future, when he trusts me a little more, I’ll be able to pull it off. I hope to God I get that chance.
Beau blushes but doesn’t respond. To help him feel better, I strip off the clothes I went out in, returning us both to our disrobed state. “Better.”
“Yeah. Much better.” He stares at my nipple piercings.
“You can touch if you want.” I know I couldn’t barely keep my fingers off them initially. It took literally sitting on my hands at times to keep from messing with the new metal.
“Maybe later,” he says, turning his head away to focus on his latte.
I give him a minute to recover, recognizing that he’s feeling a bit vulnerable this morning.
It also gives me time to build up the courage for the questions I’ve been wanting to ask him all morning.
“So, what do you have planned this weekend?” It’s a cop out.
I really want to ask him if he’ll stay, hang out with me today, and fall into my bed again tonight.
“Not much,” he says after he swallows his bite of scone. “Probably parking myself in front of the TV and getting some rest.”
“You could do that here.”
“Yeah? Are you watching anything good?”
Honestly, I’d watch anything if I got to do it with Beau cuddled up next to me. “I’m sure we can find something we agree on.”
BEAU
Being with Vincent is a surreal experience.
I never know what’s going to happen next.
Waking up this morning in his bed, I got a chance to take in his apartment.
It’s clearly a mixed-use space that’s been turned into an apartment.
The ceilings are lofted, with massive beams covered in twinkly lights criss-crossing the space.
The brick walls are covered in artwork, some paintings, and some photographs.
It’s easy to pick out the ones that are his, the beautiful landscapes of the lake and hills.
It’s almost enough to get me out of bed so I can inspect them.
Almost.
Right now, I’d much rather spend my time cuddled up to Vincent. He’s soft and warm, with his arm wrapped around my waist while we watch TV from the bed. Could we move to the couch and have a bigger screen? Of course, but staying in bed, naked and close, is a much better use of a Saturday afternoon.
We’ve barely moved other than to use the bathroom and occasionally gather sustenance from the kitchen.
Unsurprisingly, our tastes in television shows are very different, but it didn’t take us long to agree to watch a few episodes of Bake Off.
That’s always a winner, and I have yet to find someone who can resist the draw of watching genuinely nice people bake treats.
“What do you think about going out for dinner?” I ask.
I’m not quite sure how we’ll make it work.
I don’t have another set of clothes, but I do feel like I owe him a nice meal.
Another little way to say sorry. I can’t help but think of all the time we wasted.
Two months that we could’ve been doing this instead of ignoring each other.
“That sounds good. Any suggestions?”
I hadn’t really thought that far ahead, not wanting to get my hopes up that he might say yes. “I don’t really know this area.” That’s not entirely true, but the places I know are where we take clients or hold business gatherings. Not the right vibe for tonight.
“I’ve got a few ideas,” he says as he gives me a little squeeze.
It’s such a sweet move that I sigh, being pulled close to his body.
I’ve had plenty of dates and hookups over the last few years, but now that I’m thinking of it, I don’t remember the last time someone held me like this without the expectation of it turning into something more.
Not that I don’t want more of Vincent—I absolutely do—but I’m also content like this for now.
“I think I have a few things for you to wear.”
I try not to tense at the suggestions. I like the idea of wearing his clothes, but our styles are nearly opposites. As much as I love seeing him in bright prints filled with characters and designs, I’m not sure I have the confidence to go out in something like that.
“Don’t worry,” he says, kissing the side of my head. “Nothing too wild. I have plenty of boring black stuff as well.”
Guess I didn’t do a great job hiding my concern.
An hour later, after mutual hand jobs in the shower and little time in Vincent’s closet, which is really a few racks of clothes tucked in the corner, we’re ready to head to dinner.
As promised, the items he found for me are perfect.
I’ll admit I was worried the pants would be too tight on me.
Where he’s lean and the time he takes to take care of himself shows, the years of working a sedentary desk job have put a few pounds on my midsection.
I mostly don’t mind, but it did give me pause briefly today when he held out a pair of black trousers he said would fit.
I held my breath as I pulled them up, but the zipper and button held as I put them together.
I did, however, have to roll the cuff on the ankle.
Add to that a black sweater, and I’m ready for a night out.
There’s something nice about wearing his clothes. They’re soft and smell of lavender.
“Ready?” Vincent pulls on a pair of rainbow Chucks, not bothering with the laces.
I can’t manage quite a feat with my Oxfords, so I bend down and tie the laces.
I wonder how appalled he’d be to know that there’s a shoehorn by the door at my house for these things.
Another way we’re complete opposites. For the first time since last night, I wonder if we can make something work between us.
There are just so many places where we differ.
And while our chemistry in bed is undeniable, I can’t help but wonder how we might be able to squish our lives together beyond that.
“Ready.”