Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 161257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 806(@200wpm)___ 645(@250wpm)___ 538(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 161257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 806(@200wpm)___ 645(@250wpm)___ 538(@300wpm)
Max set the cardboard box on his desk and just stared at it.
“But you’ve been having sex with me all this time.”
Max didn’t argue or try to deny it. Didn’t bother trying to talk his way out of it. Sean’s insides teemed anxiously. Was Max finally standing down? Rethinking his decision to call it quits?
Max exhaled and shook his head. “What do you want me to say? You’ve got me. I’m guilty. I did a bunch of stupid shit that I shouldn’t have.”
Ugh. Sean clenched his fists. So fucking stubborn! Marching over, he grabbed Max’s arm and turned him around. “It wasn’t stupid shit. You were following the dictates of your heart. When you care about someone you don’t charge them for sex. And you sure as shit don’t have sex with other people.”
Max’s eyes blazed with a torrent of agony and frustration. “No, Sean. The stupid shit I shouldn’t’ve done was getting mixed up with you to begin with.”
Sean winced—fuck, that stung—but before he could respond, something at the top of Max’s box grabbed his attention. A photograph sticking out of a leather-bound sketchbook. A picture Sean recognized because it was his. As in, it belonged to him. Came from his fucking apartment.
Frowning, he reached past Max and picked up the black book, only to notice something else as he opened it. A sketch on one of the pages the photo had been sandwiched between. One that matched Sean’s photograph to a tee. An image of Sean, of his laughing face, each detail captured perfectly by hand.
His mouth fell open as he stared at the two. “Where’d you get this? This picture?” He looked at Max, not understanding.
Max exhaled and closed his eyes. Ran a hand down his face. “I took it… From your place… That time I gave you a ride.”
He’d stolen a picture of Sean? Way back then? But that was ages ago. “Why?” Sean murmured, looking back at the drawing.
“Because I wanted it,” Max rasped. “Because I loved it as soon as I saw it.”
Sean’s heart pounded restlessly. “And you did this sketch?”
Max didn’t answer. Sean looked back up. “Tell me.”
Max nodded.
Sean couldn’t believe it. He gazed back down at the thing. Goddamn, and he’d thought Max was good with clay. Hell, he brought the fucking house down with paper and pencil.
He supposed he should be angry on some level for the steal. For Max taking something of his without asking. But he just couldn’t do it, couldn’t muster the energy, when the underlying reason was so clear. Max had wanted a picture of Sean to look at, because even back then he’d been feeling something. For Sean. Just like Sean had been feeling something for him.
“It’s amazing,” Sean breathed. “I can’t believe how good you are.”
“Illustration used to be my passion… before I realized I loved sculpting more.”
Sean looked back up. “You still draw a lot?”
Max crossed his arms. “Not really.”
“But you drew this one of me.” Sean eyed him. “How come?”
Max shrugged. “Cathartic?”
“Is that the only reason?”
Just admit it.
Max scowled. “I’m not doing this.”
“Doing what?”
“This!”
“What?! Admitting that you miss me?!” Sean pressed.
“No!”
“But you do! Why can’t you just fucking say it?!”
“Fine!” Max threw up his hands. “I miss you! There! Are you happy?”
“Not really! You make me crazy!”
They were shouting. Why were they shouting?
“Well, you make me crazy, too!” Max countered. “So it looks like we’re even!”
“Ha! Not by a long shot! You broke my frickin’ heart!”
“I know! And I’m sorry! I fucking broke mine, too!”
“And now you miss me!” Sean reiterated.
“Yes! And now I fucking I miss you!”
“Is that why you came by my work?!”
“Yes! It was stupid! I just needed to see your face!”
Sean stilled. His eyes went wide. “I knew it! I knew I saw you!”
Max froze, then bristled, chagrin mixing with his anger. “We’re done here, Sean. Get out.”
Sean shook his head. “No way. Not until I hear you say the words.”
“What words?” Max ground out.
Sean got in his face. “That you love me. That you want me.”
“Of course I want you, Sean. But I can’t. I can’t have you.”
“Yes, you can, Max!”
“No! Don’t you get it? If I don’t have you, if you’re not mine, then I can’t ever lose you!”
“But you already have me, Max!”
Max gripped Sean’s shoulders and shook his head. “No. Don’t say that. Don’t ever fucking say that.”
Sean’s insides railed. “But it’s true. I’m yours. Please, Max. Just say the words and be mine, too.”
Max’s jaw ticked. “Don’t do this. You know I fucking can’t.”
Goddamn it. “Yes, you can, Max.” Sean refused to give up. Pulse racing, courage spiking, he ditched the sketchpad and palmed Max’s nape. “Here. I’ll go first,” he whispered. “I love you, Max. I love you.” Goosebumps swept over his body. Emotion squeezed his fucking ribs. “And I do not want to move on… Not without you.”