Page 53 of Meeting Mr. Adorkable
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Lucian sprawled out on the bed, breathing hard, a sweat drenched, melted heap of goo. The bed shifted and he opened his eyes. Above him, Arlo appeared. He was grinning, his lips and chin smeared with—
“Nooo!” Lucian tried to push him away, but he was defenseless against the onslaught as Arlo smothered his face in kisses, forcing him to taste his own salty release on Arlo’s lips. “You’re disgusting. You know that, don’t you?”
“That’s why you like me so much.”
Arlo stood up, his honed body naked and his dick at half mast. Lucian’s mouth watered and he narrowed his eyes, his gaze following Arlo as he moved around the bedroom. Maybe he could return the favor of an early morning blowjob. Before he could make the offer, Arlo beat him to it.
“Christ, it’s going to be a circus today.” Arlo sat on the edge of the bed and ran his fingers through his mussed hair. “I know it’s just a few paintings, but…”
A few paintings? Jonas had taken dozens of canvases. The whole gallery was going to be devoted to Arlo’s work. Lucian shuffled across the bed, sat up next to Arlo, and took his hands in his.
“You’re a talented artist, and it’s time you believed that. And it’s not just a few paintings. The gallery is yours tonight. Yours. Your paintings, your talent. Do you really think Jonas would go to that trouble if he didn’t believe in you?”
Arlo’s lips tilted in a crooked smile, but his eyes remained unconvinced.
“Ouch!” Arlo tried to snatch his hands away, but Lucian held on tight, refusing to let go.
“You pinched me,” Arlo complained.
“Yes, I did, so you’ll always remember what I’m saying. Paintings are created to be admired. Same with floral displays. Movies are to be watched, preferably with a giant carton of popcorn, and books are written to be read. But if they’re shoved out of sight so nobody can enjoy them, then what’s the point of creating them in the first place? Don’t let your art literally gather dust up in your studio, because it’d be criminal not to share it with the world. Okay, Collier’s Creek for now, but who knows?”
Arlo looked down at their joined hands, his nakedness exposing not just skin but his fears and doubts, too.
“What if people don’t like them? What if they think I’m trying to be somebody I’m not? I’ve always painted just for me—”
“But that doesn’t have to change, does it? You can still paint for yourself, but it doesn’t stop you from showing others. You showed me, remember?”
Arlo lifted Lucian’s hand to his lips, and kissed every one of his fingers. “That was different,” he murmured.
“Some people won’t like your work, just like not everybody can like every book they read, or song they hear. And some will come for the free booze and canapés.” Lucian smiled as he coaxed a small laugh from Arlo. “But most will be there because they want to be, because they want to support one of their own. A home grown, Collier’s Creek artist.”
“Maybe.”
“There’s no maybe about it. Jonas wouldn’t be putting the time and effort into this if he didn’t think it was worth it, financially and for the gallery’s reputation. If he didn’t have faith, this evening wouldn’t be happening.”
“Maybe you’re right, and maybe I’m overthinking it.” He looked less doubtful, less terrified. Not much, but it was a start. “Jonas wants me at the gallery for much of today — something about confirming the arrangements and other stuff — and there was me thinking you just stuck ‘em up on the wall.” They both laughed, easing the tension. “You will be there, right, for when they open the doors? You’ll be back in time?” A frown worried at Arlo’s brow.
“Nah, thought I’d hang out at Randy’s instead. I just luuurve their ribs ’n’ steak deal.” Lucian rolled his eyes when Arlo’s jaw dropped. “Of course I’ll be there, you dope. I wouldn’t miss it for the world. And yes, I’ll be back in good time from the, erm, flower fair.”
A flower fair had been the first thing he could think of when he’d told Arlo he’d be out of town for much of the day with Bibi. Shopping in Boomfurt, on the day of the showing, wasn’t ideal, but sudden and short notice floral emergencies had taken up valuable time, along with Bibi twisting her ankle during over enthusiastic line dancing in Randy’s. It was today or nothing, because Marmite stained clothes were not an option.
“Talking of which, I’d best get ready. We’ve both got a long day ahead before your triumph this evening.” Lucian bounded out of bed and fled for the bathroom, glancing over his shoulder to see Arlo staring at him in abject terror.
CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT
The shopping mall was the size of a medium-sized English city. Or that’s how it felt to Lucian. He needed a sit down, a cuppa, and a toasted teacake to summon up the energy to even think about tackling the place, but Bibi was having none of it as she planned the day with military precision.
“Okay, we need to start with the suit. That’s your capsule piece.”
“My what?” Whatever language she was speaking, it wasn’t English. Bibi tilted her head, an indulgent smile on her face Lucian refused to believe was condescending.
“Luci, do you trust me?” She locked her gaze on his.
“Yes.” No…. But, for better or worse, he’d put himself in her hands, even though he shuddered at what those hands might do to him if he didn’t agree. He nodded vigorously.
“Good. We decide on the cut and color, and from there we kind of branch out to the shirt and shoes.”
