Page 36 of Snapping the Ice
“Yeah, but it’s not like my brother, who gets his photo taken everywhere he goes with his husband.” He rolled his lips. “I’ll talk to Mason today. He’ll know how to handle it.” He smirked. "He’s going to shit himself.”
“I’m guessing he’ll be happy for you?” How would I feel if my sister had come out as queer? I chewed my lower lip. Then our parents would have kicked us both out.
“He’ll be ecstatic.” Shaking his head, a sharp laugh escaped him, and his attention drew to me. “What do you want to do on our date?”
“Dinner? I want to get to know you better and a dinner date will let us talk more.” I glanced at my backpack. Shit, Ineeded to work. “Lucas, I need to get into the studio, or we won’t go to dinner until late.”
“Yeah, about that. Is there any way you can pick up what you need and do it at my place?” He pressed his lips together. “You know Tate is going to show up at your studio.”
I gave a slow shake of my head and thought about it. It would be a real pain and take longer on my laptop. “I use a desktop computer at the studio when I edit. The software I use, and the image sizes need a lot of processing power. If I try it on my laptop, it gets hot and lags.”
“Okay.” He frowned. “Guess we’re spending the afternoon at the studio.” He gave me a thin-lipped smile.
“You’ll be bored.” I huffed a chuckle. He wouldn’t give this up.
“No, I won’t. I enjoy looking at you. I can spend the entire afternoon watching you.” He gave me a charming smile.
I laughed for the first time in ages. “Oh, you can, huh?” He made me feel good. Tate never did. He always picked at me, like something was always wrong with me—the way I dressed, my hair, something.
“Yes, I can. Let’s finish this so we can have a nice dinner date.” He stood, pulling me up. “You know how hungry I can get.”
“I do.” We’d talk more at dinner. It seemed like we’d just scratched the surface.
“And you’ll stay at my place again tonight, so pack more clothing.” His cheeks flushed pink. “In my bed this time?”
He was ready for that? “Sure.” I’d humor him for now.
CHAPTER 9
LUCAS
We’d walked to Ezra’s studio and saw no sign of Tate, so he worked on the images he’d taken for the hockey calendar. Standing behind him, I pulled his hair behind his shoulders as he adjusted a photo of Evan. “What’s that?” I pointed to a square pad on his desk with a bunch of buttons and a round trackpad centering it. Now that I’d kissed him, I couldn’t stop touching him. I wanted more.
“It’s called a Loupedeck CT. It gives me shortcut buttons for my editing software and lets me fine tune colors easier than using a regular mouse.” He leaned in closer to his large monitor.
“Okay.” Wow, he knew his shit. He earned his living that way. “What’s on your schedule for next week?” I rested my hands on his shoulders. Was I distracting him?
“I have a wedding to shoot on location and some family photos here in the studio. Otherwise, I’ll be editing.” He narrowed his eyes, focusing his curser on Evan’s chin mole. “Do you think I should remove this?”
“No, keep it. He’s proud of that mole.” Evan wasn’t, but fuck it. No one would notice it, anyway. I wouldn’t mention myanxiety at Ezra being here alone next week. I tensed my mouth. No, I’d wait and see how it went today.
“Proud, huh?” Shaking his head, he clicked, and the mole disappeared. “I know you hockey guys like to fuck with each other.”
“No, really?” Scoffing a laugh, I left him and strolled to one of the makeup chairs. Maybe he’d been right about me getting bored. Fuck it, I could doom scroll for a while.
A few hours and way too many reels later, pounding pierced the studio. “Ezra? I know you’re in there. Let me in,” Tate yelled.
“Fuck.” With my pulse skyrocketing, I jumped from the chair. “I’ll handle this.” I stomped toward the door.
Ezra raced to me, slapping his palm on my chest. “No, just be quiet. He’ll leave eventually.” As rapping came again, he glanced behind him. “Believe me.”
Fisting my hands, I tightened my jaw. Fuck, I had to listen to him. “Okay.” How long before Tate stopped?
“Ezra? Come on. Open up,” Tate’s voice snaked through the door.
With his gaze firm, Ezra shook his head.
I nodded and huffed a sigh. Listening to Tate’s bullshit would suck. In a whisper, I said, “How much longer?” And at some point, I needed to get some lunch.
