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My hard dick can wait. I’ve got to draw him before I forget.
* * *
A thump on the motorhome door wakes me up, and I startle from my position slumped over the table. I must have fallen asleep last night, sketching away like a maniac. Paper sticks to my cheek, and I peel it off. It’s one of Maggie’s face as he came last night. God, he looked good like that. I want to do that all over again.
And again.
I don’t want to stop.
“Open up, asshole!” my brother Luke shouts from the other end of the door, and my stomach drops.
“Shit,” I mutter, quickly gathering all of my drawings and stuffing them into a drawer. My brother knows I sketch, but he doesn’t know what I’ve been drawing recently. He’d never let me live it down if he knew.
Although he does know about my obsession with Maggie, he doesn’t realize how bad it really is.
“What the hell you want?” I grumble, wrenching the door to my RV open and glowering down at Luke, who looks all too smug.
He looks way too much like me. All our lives, people thought we were twins. We both have the same build and eyes, but his hair is cut shorter than mine. And personality-wise, he’s a little more reckless than I am. Which is saying something.
“Ma wanted me to come check on you since you moved out this way and you haven’t been home in a while.”
“It’s been two weeks. She can deal.”
“Well, you know how she is. It’s just me at home now, and she’s having a mini-crisis. Thinks we’ve all flown the coop or some shit. Dad says she’s having empty-nester syndrome,” Luke says with a shrug and then roughly pushes past me and into my RV. He glances around and then looks at me.
“You got shit on your face,” he says, and I swipe at my cheek, noticing the black smear across the back of my hand. “Drawing again, I see.”
He lowers himself into the booth, and when something crunches under his ass, I internally groan.
“Do not look at that,” I mutter, trying to grab it from Luke’s hand, but it’s too late. My brother’s laughing loudly as he looks at my crumpled sketch.
“You’ve got it bad, bro,” he says, showing me what he’s holding in his hand. It’s a picture of Maggie’s face. One I’d sketched before I really perfected the art of him.
“I do not. He’s just…unusual. That’s all it is.”
I swipe the drawing from his hand, and Luke says, “As your older brother….”
“You’re only ten months older than me, asshole.”
“As yourolderbrother, I think your obsession with this guy is fucking weird. You like him, Sem?”
“He’s fine,” I mutter.
“I mean, do youlikehim, like Caleb likes Whit?”
I swallow roughly. “Nah.”
My brother watches me intently, and I shift in my seat, wishing I was alone. Because while we’re not twins, Luke has this special way of looking into my soul that I can’t seem to escape.
“You’re not gay?”
“Nah.”
Fuck. Am I?
“I mean you could be a lot of different things. Bi, pan, demi…”
“What the hell, Luke. How do you know all this stuff?”
