Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Theo
I’d deliberately kept out of Cameron’s way while he worked. Not that I minded working in my room. The quiet helped me to concentrate.
Most of the time.
Cameron had a way of sneaking into my thoughts. If I closed my eyes, I was back on that couch in a heartbeat, driving into him, feeling his body tight around my cock, seeing the flush spread over his chest and neck, hearing his moans of pleasure.
I could also remember how amazing it felt to fall asleep curled around him, warm and safe.
That feeling of being safe was addictive.
The soft knock on my door made me smile. “Yes, I would like more tea,” I called out.
When it opened, I expected to see him with a mug in his hand.
Instead, he stood there, swallowing.
Why does he look nervous?
“Is something wrong?”
Cameron took a deep breath. “I need to show you something. And if you hate it, I’ll destroy it. I mean that.”
I swear, a fist closed around my heart. “Then you’d better show me.” I got off the bed and followed him into the living room. His easel stood in the window, draped in a white sheet.
Cameron was trembling, and the sight sent ice trickling through me.
What the fuck is under there? I’d already seen his portrait of me.
Hadn’t I?
“This is the most personal thing I’ve ever made.
It’s my piece for the exhibition.” He paused.
“I don’t know if I’ve already mentioned this, but the college puts on an exhibition of artwork every year.
My tutor thinks this piece stands a good chance of being included.
But… the exhibition is open to the public.
And I won’t submit it unless you say yes. ” A beat. “You can say no, okay?”
I nodded, my heart pounding.
“And I had to show you now because tomorrow morning is the deadline. Most of the pieces have already been selected. Nora—that’s my tutor—is waiting to know if I’m going to submit it or not.”
“Then show me.”
Cameron lifted the sheet, and the world dropped out from under my feet.
It was me—naked—in my bed, sleeping.
It wasn’t an erotic painting, but fuck, it was achingly intimate. He’d rendered my body with gentleness, capturing every curve, every angle, including the softness I never let anyone see.
My face…
I looked peaceful.
I also felt as if someone had delivered a punch to my solar plexus.
“Please say something.” The words came out as a whisper.
I couldn’t speak. My throat was thick, my eyes stinging. I took a step forward, my breathing shallow and ragged.
“You painted me like I’m…”
I broke off.
Cameron moved to stand beside me. “Like you’re beautiful. Because you are.”
I pressed a trembling hand to my forehead. “I look… vulnerable.”
“You were.”
“I look—God, Cameron, I look like someone who feels.”
“That’s because you do feel.”
“No one has ever seen me like this.” My voice cracked.
“I have,” he murmured.
I turned to him with something like awe and terror combined. “Why did you paint this?”
Cameron met my gaze without flinching.
“Because I wanted to remember the moment you let yourself be human with me. Not perfect. Not controlled. Just… you.”
My breath shuddered out of me. “And you want the whole world to see me like this?”
“I think the whole world might be something of an exaggeration.” Cameron’s expression became aching, earnest. “And no, I don’t want the world to see you.” He paused. “I want you to choose it.”
I looked back at the portrait, me, unhidden… unashamed. It was a version of myself that I didn’t recognise but wanted to.
“I don’t know if I can,” I said when I finally found my breath.
“Then tell me to pull it. I will. Right now.” God, he sounded so quiet.
I stared at the painting for a long, quiet moment.
“This is truly how you see me?”
“No—it’s how you are. The real Theo.”
My heart hammered. “Submit it.”
Cameron sucked in a breath. “Are you sure?”
“No,” I admitted honestly. “But I want to be.” I turned to face him. “This exhibition… you said it’ll be open to the public?” He nodded, and I squared my shoulders. “Okay, then. If it gets selected, I’ll be there.”
Cameron closed the gap between us, and my arms were full of a warm, trembling man.
“You mean that?”
“I do,” I murmured against his temple.
He expelled a shaky breath. “Thank you. I think it’s the best thing I’ve ever done.”
I turned my head to stare at the canvas, forcing myself to be calm. “I can’t believe you managed to do this without me seeing it. I’m even more amazed that you managed to draw me without me waking up.”
He smiled. “I chose my moment well.” He flushed. “I wore you out first.”
I had to laugh. I released him and took a step closer, peering at the brushwork. “I only have one complaint.”
“What’s that?”
I pulled a face. “You could’ve made me… bigger.” I picked up a paintbrush and held it out to him. “There’s still time.”
Cameron burst out laughing. “I am not painting over it to give you a bigger dick.”
I put the brush down and pulled him to me. “You are an amazing artist. I hope she does put it in the exhibition. And I hope it does something for your future career.”
He huffed. “I hope so too.” He shook his head, his eyes soft with wonder. “I still can’t believe you said yes.”
Neither could I. And right then, I didn’t want to dwell on the prospect too much in case I changed my mind.
“Are you coming to the rehearsal this evening?” I called out from the bathroom as I rubbed myself dry.
“Not tonight. I’m meeting Raquel. We’re due for a catch-up session.”
I smiled at my reflection. “So my ears will be burning. Got it.”
Cameron laughed. “Oh, absolutely. I’m not even going to pretend we won’t talk about you.” He paused. “I was also going to invite her to the opening of the exhibition on Friday night.”
I froze for half a second. “That soon?”
He appeared in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame. One glance told me he was ready to leave for college. “I told you mine was one of the last pieces to be selected. They’re finalising everything now.” He tilted his head. “Do you still want to come?”
A flicker of nerves skated up my spine, sharp and unwelcome. I pushed it down.
“Of course,” I said lightly. “In fact, I’ll stand next to the canvas and see if anyone manages to connect the dots.”
Cameron crossed the room and kissed me, slow, lingering, and deliberate. “They will,” he murmured. “I captured every inch of you.”
“Careful,” I said dryly. “You’re missing a few inches in that assessment.” I dropped the towel, my body betraying me instantly.
Cameron snorted, shaking his head. “Not exactly a still life,” he said.
“So what happens now? Do you have to start on something new straight away?”
He grinned. “I’m giving myself a week off. The college’s handling the promotion side.” He watched my face closely. “You okay?”
“Yes,” I said too quickly, then softened it. “Just… adjusting to the idea.”
Cameron brushed his thumb along my jaw. “You don’t have to be brave all the time.”
“I know,” I said. And I meant it.
He pushed out a regretful sigh. “I’ve got class this morning.” Then his eyes sparkled. “And a canvas to deliver.”
“Is it all wrapped up? You don’t want it to get damaged.”
He chuckled. “Will you stop worrying for five seconds? It’s in its own bag.
And it isn’t as if I have far to go.” His gaze flickered down and he smirked.
“And if you keep standing there like that, I’m really going to be late.
” Another kiss, shorter this time, but no less charged, and then he was gone.
The flat felt different after Cameron left.
I stood there for a moment, the towel still in my hand, listening to the echo of the door downstairs closing, the faint hum of the city beyond the windows.
My body was still warm from the kiss, from the easy banter, from the way Cameron moved through my space as if he belonged there.
And that was the thing—he did.
We were natural together, effortless in a way I’d never quite trusted before. There were no sharp edges to sand down, no careful choreography of distance and approach, just shared mornings, half-finished jokes, casual touches that seemed like punctuation instead of disruption.
It should have scared me, but it didn’t.
I moved into the kitchen on autopilot, poured myself a glass of water.
I hadn’t said it yet. There had been a dozen moments when it hovered on the tip of my tongue: late at night on the couch, Cameron’s head tipped against my shoulder; quiet mornings, when more often than not I woke with him in my arms; and the way Cameron looked at me when I conducted a rehearsal, as if I was something to be proud of.
I’d always been good with restraint, with waiting and silence. But this felt different.
This wasn’t fear holding me back—it was reverence.
I didn’t want to say it carelessly, to toss the words into the air like something that could be shrugged off or misunderstood. Cameron deserved more than that.
I leaned back against the counter and closed my eyes.
I’m falling in love with you.
The words were filled with a calm, steady certainty. I felt no panic. I wasn’t spiralling out of control.
That scared me more than anything.
I crossed the living room and picked up my notebook from the coffee table. It had been sitting there for days, empty pages waiting as they knew something I didn’t. I flipped it open, my thumb brushing the paper, then reached for a pen.
If I couldn’t say it out loud yet, I could write it.
It wouldn’t be a confession, just raw honesty.
I sat, hunched slightly forward, and began to write, tentatively at first, then with surer strokes. Right then it was nothing but lines without melody, phrases that felt too close to the bone to be anything but real.
I paused, my heart thudding.
This wasn’t just a song. This was me, finally letting myself be seen.
I kept writing, pouring my feelings onto the paper, and when I finally stopped, I leaned back, my breath unsteady, and stared at the page.
I’ll tell you. Soon.
Not because I had to, but because I wanted to.
I hope it will be enough.
I knew something was wrong the moment I stepped into the studio.
The room was already full, but no one was warming up. I couldn’t hear any scales or idle harmonies drifting through the air. Instead, there was a low, buzzing murmur that cut off a fraction of a second too late.
Silence fell. Every head turned in my direction.
I paused inside the doorway, my bag still slung over my shoulder. “What?” My stomach tightened. “Why do I feel as if I’ve walked onto a crime scene?”
Finnley cleared his throat, trying—and failing—to look neutral. Oliver stared at the floor. Sebastian looked as if he wanted to vanish.
Max leaned against the wall with his arms folded, watching me.
I dropped my bag to the floor. “Okay, someone tell me what’s going on.”
Julian held up his phone. “Congratulations. You’ve gone public.”
I blinked. “What?”
He turned the phone around, and I peered at the screen. One glance was all I needed. It was a cropped image, in muted tones, the unmistakable line of my shoulder, the curve of my throat, the intimate angle that made my chest tighten painfully.
Cameron’s portrait of me in all its glory.
The room tilted.
“What?” I croaked.
“The college posted previews for the exhibition,” Finnley said quickly, as though he was trying to soften the blow. “Just a few pieces. Cameron’s was one of them.”
My mouth dried up. “You’ve all seen it.”
“Not all of it,” Sebastian murmured.
Julian snorted. “Speak for yourself.” I shot him a look, and he lifted both hands. “Hey. That’s not me being weird about it. This is me being impressed.”
I exhaled through my nose. “That’s not helping.”
It’s online. Cameron hadn’t said anything about it being online.
Max finally straightened. “You want a minute?”
I shook my head. “No. I—” I swallowed. “No. Just… tell me what you think you saw.”
Beats of silence.
Finnley hesitated, then said quietly, “You.”
I laughed, the sound brittle. “That’s not an answer.”
“It is,” he insisted. “It wasn’t… sexual. It was…” He frowned, clearly searching for words. “It was intimate. Exposed. As if—”
“As if someone trusted the artist completely,” Oliver finished.
I closed my eyes for half a second.
That’s exactly what scares me.
Julian’s voice was softer now, the teasing edge gone. “You look vulnerable in it. Strong. It’s kind of terrifying, honestly.”
I opened my eyes. “Terrifying.”
“In a good way,” Julian added. “Like—this is the guy who stands in front of us twice a week and tells us to be braver.”
What filled me was the tiniest hint of pride.
I rubbed my hand over the back of my neck. “Cameron told me it was accepted. He didn’t say they’d post previews.”
“They post previews every year, apparently,” Max said in a gentle tone.
I winced. “I should have known.” Then I frowned. “But he only took it into college this morning. How did you know to search for it?”
“I didn’t. But one of the guys at the club goes to the same art college Cameron mentioned, and he was talking last night about the piece he’d submitted.” Max grinned. “Except he wasn’t talking—he was bragging, so I went looking.”
“And found Cameron,” I concluded.
Finnley coughed. “For what it’s worth… if that’s what trusting someone looks like, I kind of get why you’ve been so intense lately.” I stared at him, and he met my gaze. “It takes guts to let yourself be seen like that.”
I let out a slow breath. “Okay,” I said at last. “We’re not doing this all rehearsal.”
Julian groaned. “Buzzkill.”
I lifted my chin. “Warm up. We’ve got work to do.”
We got started, but it soon became obvious that the energy in the room was different now. It was charged, filled with curiosity and maybe just a little respect.
Max caught my eye as I turned towards the mixing desk.
You okay? he mouthed.
I nodded. I wasn’t, of course, but for the first time, the fear wasn’t about being exposed, but about how much it meant to be seen—and not rejected.
Somewhere deep in my chest, beneath the nerves and the control and the panic, something steadied. Because whatever happened next, I knew one thing for certain.
I didn’t regret trusting Cameron.
What I did regret was not being given a warning that my naked body was about to be all over the Internet.