“Because wanting doesn’t make it right.”
“Maybe not,” Max said gently, “but it does make it real. You’re allowed to be real every once in a while, you know.”
I looked down at my trembling hands. “That’s what scares me.”
“Then it’s already working,” Max said. “Real things usually do.”
I didn’t answer.
“Judging by the sound of the coffee machine in the background, I take it you’re in a café?”
“Yeah.”
“Then my prescription is for you to get your arse back to the flat, rip his clothes off, and fuck his brains out. To be repeated at least three times a day.”
“I amsoglad I didn’t have you on speaker.” I ended the call.
I sat there a long time, listening to the café’s quiet hum, trying to decide whether what I felt was guilt or relief.
Maybe both.
Cameron
The flat felt as if someone had turned the volume down on the world.
I sat cross-legged on the sofa, my sketchbook open on my lap. The graphite smudge from last night’s drawing had transferred to my palm. I rubbed at it absently, then turned to a clean page.
I didn’t want to draw. I wanted toremember.
What came out was not an image but words, uneven, messy, half confession, half promise.
I can still feel him. The way he pulled back like the touch itself scared him. The way he whispered “wait” as if he was saving us from something, not ending it.
I should be angry, but I’m not. I’m just full—of light, of ache, of wanting.
I paused, chewing the end of the pencil, then added:
This isn’t finished. I know it isn’t. Whatever he’s afraid of, I’ll wait him out. I’m not done wanting.
I stared at the words until they blurred. Then I closed the book, pressed it to my chest, and whispered to the quiet flat.
“You can’t scare me off, Theo.”
Outside, the rain had stopped. A single shaft of sunlight cut across the floor, glancing off the coffee mugs we’d both used that morning, two half-empty cups side by side, cooling slowly in the same light.
I sighed. I had prep to do for my tutorial the following day. Nora wanted me to confirm what my next major piece would be, and as yet I didn’t have a clue.
I need inspiration.
What I really needed was Theo.
Theo
I sat at my desk. In theory I was reading through rehearsal notes.
In practice, my mind was elsewhere. The silence sat like static under my skin.
The bathroom door opened, and Cameron came out, dressed in tight jeans and an open shirt over a tee, his hair pushed back off his face.