Chapter 14
Parker
Try again for love next time.
Those words have played on a loop in my mind since Landon said them. So simple. So fucking profound.
Now here I am, sitting in front of my canvas, paint staining my fingers, probably in my hair, and definitely on my thighs and shirt. But I feel lighter.
Placing my paintbrush on the palette balanced on my thigh, I stare at the canvas. An hour ago, my mind was a kaleidoscope. Waking up sandwiched between Ben and Landon was… exhilarating. And terrifying.
Try again for love next time.
I couldn’t get those words out of my mind. Now they’re out and staring back at me. A mix of pinks and purples and yellows swirled together in mindless ways. They shouldn’t work together at all. Nothing about them is cohesive. But somehow they do.
I’m still not sure it feels like love, but it doesn’t feel like pain. That has to mean something, right?
Picking up my paintbrush, I dip it into the gold. It’s the only color I haven’t touched. Not until now. With a deep breath, I bring my brush to the painting. I keep it light, using just the tiniest bit.
A break in the rain, the quiet after a big snow, a candle flickering in an otherwise dark room. Not enough to overwhelm. Just enough to notice.
I’ve been afraid to use gold. To see it. To feel it. To even think about it, really. Today, it doesn’t feel as scary.
The sound of footsteps catches my attention, and I lean to the side, looking around my canvas to see Landon. My heart lurches. He looks… soft. There’s something vulnerable about seeing him like this. Eyes bleary, barefoot in a pair of sweats.
When he sees me, he stops, then leans against the doorway. “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” I rasp out, then clear my throat.
“You were up early.”
I smile. “Too many colors, you know? I had to get them out.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know, actually.”
“Come sit by me?” I ask softly. He hesitates for a second, and my defenses rear to the surface, but before I can tell him never mind, he’s padding across the floor.
He sits down beside my canvas but doesn’t look at it. Something about that warms my heart. I pat the floor next to me. “Over here if you want. You can look at it.”
His lips curve into a small smile, but he shuffles closer, and after a couple of seconds, glances up at the painting.
While he looks at it, I watch him. His eyes take it in, moving slowly. “It’s gorgeous.”
“Thanks. It doesn’t feel like pain this time.”
Landon stares at the painting for a second longer before dragging his gaze away and finding mine. “What does it feel like now?”
I bite my lip. How much is too much to tell him? Is there a limit to that? Do I even trust that I can be that open? I mean, I think I can. Hell, I’m sitting on my floor letting someone look at my fresh painting. But not just someone. Landon.
Landon, with his shy smiles, his earnest eyes, and his perpetual blush. Landon, whose breath caught when Ben kissed him. Landon, who reminded me I get to try again.
I rest my head against his shoulder, staring at the painting. He startles, his body stiffening for a second before he relaxes again. I’m not sure I can look at him while I say this. I’m not sure if I should be saying it at all, but I think I have to.
“It feels like waking up this morning.”
Landon’s quiet, then, “I’m still not sure what that means.”
“When I woke up, it was still dark. The sun hadn’t even come up yet.
But you had your arm around me. Around my waist, specifically.
And Ben’s hair was tickling my neck. He had his arm on yours, by the way.
” At first, that had made me jealous, but the more I stared at the way Ben had his fingers loosely gripping Landon’s arm where it rested over my lower stomach, the more my heart fluttered.
I sit up so I can look at him. “It was nice, you know?”
Landon nods slowly. This feels entirely too intimate. He’s so close. We’re practically in each other’s laps, and it feels like my heart is about to explode. I’m not used to being open like this. Especially not about my art, and definitely not about my colors.
“I just had to get them out, you know?” Landon’s face twists. “The colors,” I clarify. “I didn’t want to move, but they wouldn’t leave me alone.”
A throat clears, and Landon and I both jump. “So, what did the colors mean the other day?” Ben asks. Jesus. I didn’t even realize he was standing there. “If it’s okay to ask. I’m sorry to intrude.”
I shake my head. “Not an intrusion.” And how do I mean those words so much? “Come sit?”
Much like Landon did, Ben makes his way across the room, then sits down on the other side of me.
“The colors before were weird.”
“Weird how?” Ben asks, eyes greedily taking in my painting, like if he stares hard enough, he’ll find all the things I keep hidden.
“First it was all purple, you know? Everything. Me, you, and Landon. Just all these shades of purple. We were wrapped in it, and it was dripping off us. And then you kissed.” I stop talking abruptly, not sure if I should go on. Not sure how to.
“And then we kissed?” Landon says softly, prompting me to continue.
I sigh. “Yeah, and then you kissed. It was… beautiful. The sky at dusk. Just pinks melting into blue and the hint of sunlight.” I shake my head. “But it was also green. Ugly. Not the kiss. The colors.”
Fuck, I want to be kissed like that. But I lied.
I can. I can right now.
It’s too late now. I’ve missed my chance. And that’s probably for the best.
“Why green?” Landon asks quietly.
I almost laugh. “You know that adage, green with envy? There’s a reason for it.”
Silence falls over us. I can’t bear to even look at either of them, and my throat goes tight.
“Why do you think your love painting felt wrong?” Ben asks after a few minutes.
Fuck. I close my eyes. “Because I was thinking of Lincoln when I painted it.”
“Already hate Lincoln,” Ben says, and for some reason I burst into laughter.
“Me too. Fuck Lincoln,” Landon says.
“Oh?” I glance between the two of them. The paint drying on my skin is starting to get itchy, but I’m not sure I’m ready to get up and wash it away.
Landon nods solemnly. “Yeah, anyone who made Parker’s love feel like pain goes right on the shit list.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You have a shit list? I can’t see it. You’re so… kind. I can’t see you being mad at anyone.”
Something dark flashes in his eyes. “Oh, I could be plenty mad at anyone who hurts you.”
“So, who else is on your shit list?” I ask, smirking, thankful for the levity and the shift away from my colors.
“Lisa Cole. She stole a rock from me in third grade. Miles Roberts. Little asshole rear-ended me in high school and totaled my car. And now Lincoln.”
I blink at him for a second, then Ben and I both start laughing.
“A very short shit list,” Ben says, still chuckling. “And she stole your rock? The car, I get, but a rock?”
Landon narrows his eyes, looking entirely too adorable for words.
“Yes. I worked really hard to find it. It was flat on top, and I wrote my initials on it. When I tried to tell the teacher she stole it from me and that I could prove it because it had my initials, Lisa said I was lying and that they were her initials.” Landon’s face turns pink.
“And okay, sure, they were, but that doesn’t matter. ”
I grin. “You might be the most adorable human I’ve ever met in my life.”
Landon shakes his head. “No, I’m pretty sure that’s all you, Cotton Candy.”
Groaning, I bury my face in my hands. “Ben, I’m gonna kill you for that.”
“What if I call you lovebug instead?” Landon asks, and I can practically hear the smile in his voice.
“What if I murdered you?”
Ben laughs. “What would the colors be then?”
My heart flips. Lincoln never wanted to talk about my art with me. Hell, he’s half the reason I keep it so hidden. When you’re shown time and time again that it’s not safe to bare your soul, you eventually stop doing it.
I pull my hands away from my face, then shoot him an unimpressed look. “Red, obviously.”
He nods. “Right, for anger.”
“No. For blood, you dingdong.”
His mouth drops open, and then a loud laugh flies from his lips. God, I’m losing. How long will I be able to fight this? It only ends in one of two ways. I let them in. All the way in. Or I make them leave and close them out entirely.
One option is fucking terrifying, and the other is heartbreaking.
Landon chuckles like he just got the joke. “Somehow, I think you’d make art out of even that.”
“True that,” Ben says, reaching around to fist bump Landon.
“Ugh. You two are a nightmare.”
Ben hums. “Maybe. But we’re your nightmare.”
The words land hard between us. Fear ratchets up inside my heart. “You guys don’t even know me,” I whisper, glancing down at my lap.
Gentle fingers grip my chin, and my head is being tilted up by Ben. “Let us,” he whispers, searching my eyes. He looks so fucking hopeful. But letting them know me is only going to hurt. Me. Them. I can’t risk it. No matter how badly I want to, and God, do I fucking want to.
Ben’s thumb brushes my jaw, and my body betrays me, leaning into him before I come to my senses and pull away.
“You don’t have to,” Landon says softly, so I turn to look at him. “If you’re not ready. You don’t have to.”
I nod slowly.
“But,” he says, bringing a hand up. I stare at it, watch as it hovers close to my face. Is he going to touch me? Do I want him to? Yes. I do. I so do. I’m almost aching for it. Can he feel it? “Can I?” he whispers, and he has to be talking about touching me, right? So I nod almost frantically.
His hand is huge, and when he cups my face, his thumb resting against my cheekbone and his fingers slipping into my hair, I have to resist the urge to sigh out loud.
He takes a deep breath. “Remember our talk about fears?”
I do, so I nod because I don’t trust my voice.
“You don’t have to let us in if you’re not ready,” he says slowly, each word deliberate. “But I think you want to, and I think your fear is stopping you.”
I don’t know how he sees that. I don’t, and I don’t know how to make him stop. I don’t even know if I want him to.
He drags his thumb over my cheek, then pulls his hand away. Cold, icy blue washes over me, replacing the warmth his hand left.
“I am afraid,” I say softly, looking anywhere but at the two of them. “I don’t even know what this would mean or how it would work. Anything? Nothing? Everything? History has shown me things like this end in disaster.”
“History has shown me that my family will disown me, but I’m still here,” Landon says softly, and my heart lurches.
Fuck. I hate that. For all the faults and failings of my parents—and really there aren’t that many—they have never once made me question my worth.
I never worried that their love was conditional or that there was someone I could be or someone I could love that would make them turn their backs on me.
But… “History has shown me that people who claim to care about you can change up the second you don’t look the way they’re used to. ”
“And what way is that?” Ben questions.
Picking at the dried paint on my thigh, I take a deep breath. “Lincoln and I were childhood sweethearts. I’m aware that sounds stupid. But we were. We did everything together, and we fell in love before we really even knew what it meant.”
Neither Ben nor Landon speaks, and my heart thumps wildly in my chest. Not even Darcy knows about Lincoln. Not like this.
“Lincoln fell in love with a boy.”
I let those words hang between us for a second, then close my eyes. “And when I turned out to not be that…”
Landon inhales a sharp breath but doesn’t speak otherwise.
Ben isn’t the type to stay quiet, and that’s proven when he taps my thigh. “Can you look at me for a second?”
Forcing my gaze to his, I stare into his eyes. I feel exposed. Open. Too vulnerable. More vulnerable than talking about my colors. More vulnerable than waking up sandwiched in their warmth. More vulnerable even than being pinned to the wall by Ben while he dominated my mouth with his tongue.
“He made you feel bad?”
So fucking bad. I nod.
“Because he fell in love with a boy.” He says that part mostly to himself.
I can feel the weight of Landon’s stare at my back.
I wish he was touching me again, but I won’t ask for it.
I can’t. “So, I don’t know if you realize this, Park,” he says slowly, eyes roaming my face.
“Lan and I already know you’re not a boy. ”
I mean, yeah… obviously, but—Ben cuts off my mental ramble. “I like you. Parker. That’s the whole thing. No qualifiers.”
I have a hard time believing that. It’s not that I want to struggle with it. I can’t help it, though.
But… This is Ben. He even introduced himself with his pronouns. He made no assumptions about me or my gender, though I can’t say the same for Landon… Not that I blame him for that. Of course not. But still… “And you?” I ask, turning my head to look at Landon over my shoulder.
He looks pained, his eyebrows pulled together and his lips turned down at the corners. “I like you as you are. No matter what that looks like.”
“Lincoln was fine if I dressed masc. He always called me he, though. And when I presented more femme, he wouldn’t even touch me.” My throat nearly closes up, and I have to work incredibly hard to get the last few words out.
Landon offers me a sad smile. “I’m so sorry he treated you badly, Lovebug.
” Tears burn my eyes, but a smile curves my lips at the nickname.
I truly don’t know what to do with these two.
“But,” he continues. “I’ve seen you in a ratty, paint-covered t-shirt and in your pink nightgown thing.
” His cheeks brighten, and his pupils dilate.
“I’ve also seen you in jeans and in dresses, and honestly?
You’re never more or less beautiful. I couldn’t care less what you wear or how you present yourself to the world.
You’re just… Parker. Cotton Candy. Lovebug. ”
I’m not going to cry. I won’t. I will not.
I sniffle hard, and if either of them notices the wetness in my eyes, they don’t point it out.
Swallowing hard, I glance at my lap. “Can I have some time? To think about it? To decide?”
Landon says, “As much as you need,” right before Ben says, “Of course.”
I’m not sure what to do. Or what choice to make. I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready. I value our friendship so much that the idea of losing it is almost too much to bear. When I lost Lincoln, I lost everything I thought I was. But… I also gained Darcy. So it wasn’t all bad.
So maybe this wouldn’t be either.