Chapter Twenty-One #2
“Darling, you know I love it when you’re a needy boy, but we can’t. Not with all these people here. Is this how you want them to find out? Them hearing us fucking in the bathroom?”
I sighed and pressed my forehead against his, staring into his wide eyes. “You’re right. I’m just horny.”
He snorted and slipped one of his hands underneath my shirt, the tips of his fingers gently caressing the outline of my abs. “When are you not horny?”
“For you? Never.”
Cyrus smiled and pressed his lips to mine, but he didn’t go further than that, a quick kiss and nothing more. “Now that you’ve had some attention, do you want to see the rest of the apartment? Fallon’s room is a fucking mess as usual, but I can show you my room and the studio.”
I wanted to see his space, but I was more interested in seeing his art. I’d asked him to send me pictures of what he was currently working on, but he was always so damn secretive about it.
“I’d like that.”
I groaned when Cyrus pulled away, adjusting my boner and doing what I could to make it less visible.
“There really isn’t a good way to hide that thing.” He smiled and raised his bumpy eyebrows.
“Cheeky fuck.”
“Cheeky? Look at that. Not only am I rubbing you off, I’m rubbing off on you.” His fins vibrated with laughter.
“Are you going to show me around the fucking apartment or are you going to stand there and make fun of me?”
“Yes, yes. Come on. You’re grouchy when you don’t get your way, you know that?” He held the door open, and when I went to pass him, he grabbed my shoulder.
“Might just have to spank that bratty behavior right out of you next time, hmm?” he whispered against my ear.
I froze and closed my eyes. “Fuck.”
“Come on, then,” he said, and shuffled down the hallway. “We’ll start with my room and then I’ll show you the studio.”
Cyrus’s bedroom was exactly what I expected.
It was masculine and modern, with an exposed brick wall behind the bed, and bright white walls covered with more moody paintings in various tones of blue and green.
A record player sat on a shelving unit filled to the brim with vinyl: an extensive collection of all the ’80s sad boy shit Cyrus loved.
“Damn.” I spun a globe that sat next to the record player, watching the continents blur into swirling colors. “I knew your room was going to put mine to shame.”
It wasn’t that I was messy or dirty; design just didn’t come naturally to me like it did to Cyrus. I kept my furniture to the essentials, and I was clueless when it came to home decor.
“I’m sure your place is lovely.” Cyrus came up behind me, rested his head on my shoulder, and wrapped his arms around my waist. “But I’m happy to help you spruce it up a bit if you’d like. In fact, I think I have some paintings in storage that would work well.”
“You’d give me some of your art?”
Cyrus’s work sold for thousands of dollars. He’d been featured in magazines and had gallery shows all over the world, and he wanted to give me some paintings?
“Mm-hmm.” He nuzzled his face against my neck. “And every time you walk past them, you’ll be reminded of me.”
It made my chest ache. I didn’t want to be reminded of him; I wanted to be with him.
“Cyrus, I—”
I had so many things I wanted to say. So many feelings, especially one feeling in particular that I wanted to express. Feelings that were strange and foreign to me, that had my heart beating fast and gave me the warm fuzzies.
They were there, and they were for Cyrus, but they scared the shit out of me.
When I didn’t say anything, Cyrus held me tighter and kissed my cheek. It was like we were connected. Like he knew what I was feeling without me uttering a single word.
There was no way I could tell him how I felt. Not yet.
So I did the next best thing I could think of. Something that would give us a taste of what things could be like between us.
“Let’s go away for a weekend,” I blurted without giving the actual logistics of a trip like that any thought.
Cyrus went rigid behind me. “Do what now?”
I spun around to face him. “A weekend away. Just me and you.” He stared at me with his mouth hanging open. He didn’t seem convinced, so I started listing off the reasons why we should do it. “We can have sex in a bed and wake up next to each other. We don’t have to worry about being seen together.”
“I— But what about…? Are you sure?” There was uncertainty in his voice, and I couldn’t tell if it was because he was worried about blowing our cover or if it was because of me.
That once again, he felt like he wasn’t good enough to be involved with someone like me.
It hurt knowing he thought so little of himself.
I grabbed his hand, giving it what I hoped was a comforting squeeze. “Just say yes.”
Cyrus rolled his thin lips before revealing a shy smile. “All right.”
“All right?” I asked, my voice pitching up.
He nodded, and I lunged at him, wrapping my arms around him and kissing along his jawline.
He tipped his head to the side, giving me better access. “How are we going to do this?” he asked, threading his fingers through my hair.
“I’ll take care of everything,” I murmured against his skin between kisses. “You just think of an excuse to slip away for the weekend.” I sounded awfully confident for someone who had zero experience planning a weekend getaway.
“I think I can manage that.”
“Good.” I grinned, unable to hide how I felt. “I’m excited.”
“Me, too.”
“Now,” I said, pulling away to look at him, “I believe someone told me they were going to show me their studio.” There was no way I was leaving this apartment without seeing it.
“I’d hate to break a promise,” he said, his lips tipping up with a soft smile. “Come on, darling.”
He popped his head out of the doorway, checking that it was just the two of us in the apartment before leading me to the studio, his hand still holding mine.
Because of his webbing, we struggled to thread our fingers together, but it never really bothered me. I was just happy to be touching him.
It was crazy what a difference a few months could make. How one being could change your whole outlook.
“Here we are,” Cyrus said as he pushed open the door.
“Shit,” I muttered under my breath, and stepped inside the studio.
It was gorgeous.
Large windows lined one of the walls, and against the other was a row of canvases. Some were covered with drop cloths, but there were a few completed paintings out on display.
Cyrus leaned against a workbench covered with paints and brushes, and I headed straight for the paintings. They were mostly landscapes: forest scenes, coastal towns, and even a few places around Briar Glenn I recognized.
“Cyrus, these are beautiful,” I said, glancing over at him. His arms were crossed over his broad chest, a shy smile turning up the corners of his lips, but I could tell he was beaming with pride.
“I’m glad you like them,” he said as he shuffled over next to me.
“For the first time in a long time, I’m feeling inspired.
” He reached down and grabbed my hand, the two of us staring at the canvases.
“You crashed into my life when I least expected it, but also when I needed it most. You can be a dickhead, but you’re my dickhead.
My life is infinitely better with you in it, Reece Rollins. ”
My cheeks flushed and tears formed in the corners of my eyes when Cyrus brought my hand up to his lips.
“Come on,” he said quietly. “We should get back to the party.”
“Wait.” I stepped in front of him.
I held his face between my hands and pressed my lips to his, kissing him like my life depended on it, using my actions to say what I couldn’t admit to.
At least not yet.
Because my life was infinitely better with him in it, too.