16. Lick the Plate Clean #2
“I think you’re threatened by my talent, and that’s not just disappointing. It’s pathetic.”
Asher’s sharp shoulder slammed into Lev as he pushed past him and strode off down the center aisle.
“Your art doesn’t threaten me. You do,” Lev called after him.
Asher turned, a fragile wisp of hope glimmering in his eyes. “Why?”
“I want you. I shouldn’t, but I do.”
The hope in Asher’s eyes died. “Do people actually fall for that? Oh, woe is me. I’m so hopelessly besotted, but I can’t have you, and I’m too much of a coward to tell you, so I pushed you away. ”
Lev’s heart clenched at the pain in his voice. Fuck Asher for being so heartbreakingly beautiful when hurt, for making Lev feel guilty, for not accepting the truth when he was finally speaking it.
“I only meant…” Lev rubbed his jawline, soothed by the bite of his beard against his palm. “Last night rattled me. No. Strike that. You’ve rattled me since the moment we met. Before that, even.
“I met you through your art first, and perhaps that bred a false sense of familiarity. I’m not sure. But you already have me wrapped around your finger and climbing the walls, drawing maps and worrying about your safety while simultaneously wanting to throttle you for being so aggravating.
“You were right. I was afraid, and I said things about your art that weren’t true. Father said the best artists were made after they were broken. I figured?—”
“I don’t give a fuck about what your father said.” He shook his head. “All of you dinosaurs are the same. There’s no point in learning from you.”
“Dinosaurs?”
“You, Ben, gatekeeping men who only open doors after you pay the toll. You wanted something from me last night, and when I didn’t give it to you, you slammed the gate shut.”
Asher stomped back up the aisle and stabbed the center of Lev’s chest with his finger. “Fuck your retreat, fuck your mentorship, and fuck you!”
Each fuck was emphasized with more and more pressure against Lev’s sternum. It would leave an Asher-shaped bruise, one that would remind Lev of his cowardice until it faded.
Lev crowded closer, pushing into Asher’s finger, willing the bruise to deepen, to become permanent.
“If you’re insinuating that I require sexual favors in exchange for teaching you, you’re mistaken. There is no gate. No toll. The mentorship is yours. I don’t want anyone else.”
Asher lowered his finger from Lev’s chest. “I don’t believe you.”
“It’s true. If I had any less decorum, I would have made a joke in very poor taste about how when it comes to tolls, I want you so desperately, I should be the one paying you.
But if I had made such a joke, I’d have done so because the idea of you being forced into using sex as currency makes me so furious, I can’t think straight. ”
“It was a metaphor.”
“Of course. I was speaking in metaphors too.” Lev waved his hand airily, knowing full well that it wasn’t a metaphor.
They could discuss this at a future date, but first he needed to convince Asher to stay. He also needed to phone the private investigator he’d hired to look into Ben. He’d assumed Asher was self-taught, but the comment about opening doors reeked of art school.
“Jokes and metaphors aside, I’m serious. The mentorship is yours, should you still want it. Whether you accept the mentorship or decline, trust that I’ll do everything in my power to ensure your success regardless of your answer.”
“Why?” Asher repeated.
“Come now, you must know by now that I’m your biggest fan. The world needs your art, but more importantly, I need your art.”
Asher laughed, and Lev fell in love with him a little for it, because what he had to say next would be difficult, and the rare gift of Asher’s laughter gave him courage.
Inhaling, he reached for Asher’s hand but thought better of it and clasped his hands behind his back. He couldn’t bear the rejection. He couldn’t risk scaring him away. Not before he confessed how much he cared for him.
“Your art is a mirror showing me all the best and worst parts of myself. You make me feel less alone, like there’s at least one person out there who knows who I am. But sometimes, like with your watercolor today, it hurts so much I find it hard to look.”
“The scars? ”
Lev nodded.
“I didn’t know. I would never have used them to hurt you.”
“I know, but even if you had, I shouldn’t have behaved so monstrously.”
Dimples flashed at the corner of Asher’s lips for the briefest second, a near-smile. “Don’t beat yourself up too much. I mean, I was trying to piss you off with that painting.”
“Well, you succeeded.” Lev’s fledgling smile faded. “I’ve been such an arsehole. I regretted throwing your painting into the flames as soon as it left my hand. You were right about everything.
“Your painting was the very best kind of art, the kind of art that was so honest it hurt. You captured my envy acutely. I envy anyone who has ever dared to touch you. Theo. Ben. Every name you mentioned in your sketchbook. I’m jealous of your own fucking family for having more time with you than I’ve had. ”
Asher’s tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip. “That’s…”
“Borderline obsessive? Completely inappropriate? Not unlike what you drew in your sketchbook? Trust me, I’m fully aware. I want all of you. I don’t want to share. If I could, I would devour you and lick the plate clean so no one else could have you except me.”