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“Let me rephrase,” I say, pulling him to me. “I love that you did this for us and that it’s just me and you.”
“I always want just me and you.”
Cole kisses me, then pours the champagne as the capsule begins to rise. The sun is setting in the west, casting the sky in shades of gold and purple. The vista of the city lit up for the coming night, spreads farther and farther, huge and beautiful under a darkening sky.
For so long, London had held nothing for me but memories of shame, degradation, and abandonment. I look to Cole who is taking in the view with artist eyes, possibly digesting it and re-imagining it for a future canvas. But I know what he’s really doing. He’s trying to give the city back to me in a new light. He’s trying to givelifeback to me, by showing me it can be more than pain.
No, that it can be beautiful despite the pain and because of it.
“When did you know you were an artist?” I ask.
He blinks at the sudden question. “Oh, well…I don’t know. When I was a kid, I guess. I loved to draw. Hardly ever stopped. But I didn’t consider myself anartistuntil much later. Not officially. I felt like that would be arrogant or asking too much, you know? I mean, who gets to make a living doing what they love?”
“And then your incredible talent forced you to accept your fate.”
He chuckles. “No, it was my grandmother. When it came time for college, she insisted I apply to NYU’s school of the arts. So I did.” His smile was warm and sad. “She believed in me. I think that’s all it really takes sometimes. Just one person you love, who loves you, and believes in you.”
“Why portraiture?” I ask because I realize I’m dangerously close to saying something dreadfully emotional and unretractable.
“I like people,” Cole says. “I like looking at them and trying to get a sense of who they are. I’ll never know them fully or understand them completely, but I get to capture one facet of them, one moment that I can hold still forever.”
Cole feels my gaze on him and turns on that charming grin that holds so much goodness. Much more than I deserve.
“What do you think?” he asks. “You forgive me for dragging you up here?”
I say nothing but move to him and slide my free hand around his broad shoulder and into his hair. I lean in and kiss him. His lips part, and I taste the champagne—a sweet bite on his tongue—and I decide from then on that’s the only way I want to taste champagne or anything else. Because he makes everything good.
The capsule plateaus and we watch the city. Cole looks pleased but that strange, nervous energy has returned. He tosses back the rest of his champagne and tugs at the collar of his coat.
“All right, tell me the truth,” I demand. “What is going on with you?”
“Nothing, but…oh fuck, I’m sorry. I tried. I had another event planned, a little jazz club I hear is amazing, but I’m not going to make it.”
My eyes widen in alarm. “What does that mean?”
He looks sheepish and even a bit mischievous. Though we’re thoroughly alone, he leans in and whispers, “I’m wearing a toy. Beads. For you. For us, so that tonight—”
“I can take you immediately.” I stare as every drop of blood in my body goes up in flames. Then I give my head a shake. “And you’re telling me thisnow? When we’re trapped in this pod, kilometers off the ground, and I can’t do a thing about it?”
“How do you think I feel?” he says with a laugh, though his eyes are dark and glazed. “Every step I take hits that spot and makes me imagine your cock there instead.”
“Bloody fucking hell.”
I pour a glass of champagne and toss back the entire thing in one go, though it does absolutely nothing to help me. I refill his glass and pour another for me.
“You surprise me, Cole Matheson, I’d never have guessed you were so adventurous. And devious.”
“It’s your fault,” he says. “You’re too fucking sexy. Try toning it down a notch, will you?”
“If only that were possible…”
He laughs and we kiss again, this time with more heat and need, though time seems to have stopped entirely. Finally, the infernal capsule touches down, and we exit and head to the cab stand. I start to open the door for Cole, then stop.
“On second thought, why rush home?”
He blinks. “Sorry?”
“I’m suddenly in the mood for some classic cinema. They’re playing a double feature at the Savoy.”
