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I scoot up next to him, bringing our sides together. He glances at me. I glance at him, smiling.
He frowns. “What?”
I smile bigger. “And which role do you fill in my life?”
“I …” He squints at me. “Is this a game?”
“Nope. Genuinely asking.”
“Are you asking what I think you’re asking?”
“I don’t know. What do you think I’m asking?”
“Quin,” he scolds me.
“Adrian,” I bark back mockingly.
“I was wondering this same damned thing just this morning, and yet it’s you who asks me …?”
“So? What’s the answer?”
He nudges me with his arm, then nods at the flowers. “I gave you a bouquet. I showed up.”
“Yes, you did.”
“And I didn’t call it quits when you needed your space. Instead, I toughed it out.”
“Toughed it out?”
“Yeah. Toughed it out. I spent night and day thinking about you. I punched a pillow half to death out of sheer sexual frustration. I might’ve snapped at a customer or two at the restaurant.”
“Bad boy.”
“How can I help it? I go fucking crazy without you.” He gazes at the side of my face. His voice calms, his eyes softening. “What the hell role do you think I’m trying to fulfill, Quintin? I want to be your boyfriend.”
Those words.
That statement.
What it means. How it makes me feel.
The magic it does to my heart—and the chaos it does to my heartbeat.
“You do?”
“Yes,” he insists, turning to me more fully. “I want to be the guy you lean on. I want to be the one who takes care of you when you’re feeling bad. I want to be the one who laughs and smiles with you when you’re feeling good. I … I can’t explain the effect you have on me, Quin.” He stares at the ground, sulking suddenly. “It’s kind of annoying, actually.”
That makes me laugh. “Annoying?? Really?”
“Yes, really. Don’t look so proud.”
That makes me laugh harder. Then I quiet down and look at him. “Tell me how annoying it’s been.”
“What?”
“I think I want to hear all about it.”
“Is that so? You like torturing me?” He gives me a look. Then something comes over his face. “Do you have any idea how crazy these past few days have truly made me? Waiting to hear from you? Waiting to know whether or not it’s over between us? I … I kept going to sleep fearing I’d wake up to some long text from you telling me you’re already back home with your parents, and … and I wouldn’t even get a chance to say goodbye. Even worse, it could’ve been a short text. As short as one of those title cards hung underneath your paintings. Goodbye …” He shifts uncomfortably on the step, then hugs his knees. “To be honest, it’s unnerving, feeling like this.”
“Feeling like what? Vulnerable?”
“Just put me out of my misery already and tell me what you decided to do.” He turns to me. “Are you leaving me? Or are you gonna do the right thing and let me support you as the amazing, brilliant artist you are? Because goddamn it, Quintin, I think I’m falling hard for you.”
Chapter 20 - Adrian
Uh, wait.
Did I seriously just say that out loud?
I stare at him in shock. I feel like I just unzipped my pants and showed the world my dick. My heart’s on the steps between us, thumping, desperate, exposed, ready to either be picked up and cared for, or stabbed with a knife.
He stares right back, similarly stunned, his eyebrows lifted in surprise, lips parted.
I guess there’s worse things I could have done than tell him I’m falling hard for him. I could’ve actually unzipped my pants and exposed myself out here for anyone to see.
On second thought, that might be less terrifying than this. Maybe I should do it, simply to distract Quintin from what I just dared let slip out my lips.
“Sorry,” I suddenly blurt. “That just … That just came right out.” I look away. “We’ve only known each other for a few weeks. Maybe I’m confused. My feelings are all over the place, and … and tonight is your thing. It’s your thing and I’m making this about my obsession with you. Fuck.” I clutch my head with my hands. “Sorry.”
His fingers touch me, pulling my hand off of my head and taking it into his own, gently pulling my attention back to him, my mortified face in front of his.
He says, “I’m staying.”
I stare at him. “You’re … Sorry, what?”
“I’m staying. I’m not going home. I’m continuing my path in art school. I’m listening to Angel and following my dreams, wherever they may lead.”
Why does it sound like there’s a catch? “That, uh … sounds really great. That’s good, Quin.”
“And I’m hoping that my dream includes someone by my side.” He gazes into my eyes, catching me off-guard. “I hope I haven’t ruined things between us by taking time for myself these past few days.”
