Silence.
“I thought about you last night,” Shane said, quietly. “I thought about you a lot.”
Llew had to take a breath before he could respond to the intimacy of Shane’s confession. “Don’t say stuff like that, Shane.”
Ignoring him, Shane kept going. “While in my bed, alone. I thought about your eyes. Your strong touch. Your smell.” Shane stepped closer to him and Llew refused to retreat. Shane Smith Jr. didn’t intimidate him. Llew was fascinated, actually. He was setting himself up for disappointment if he allowed himself to be fooled into thinking Shane would be satisfied with him. “You don’t want me to say stuff like that? You mean the truth? It’s all I know, Llewell. I’m not a phony man and I don’t play games. I want you, and that’s all there is to it. And if you think I’m gonna give up, you’re wrong.”
“There must be a serious lack of options in this town,” Llew said stiffly.
“I wouldn’t say that. There’s plenty of options here and there’s neighboring cities with even more options. But I prefer the option in front of me.”
“I’m not an option.”
“On the contrary.”
Llew couldn’t hide his satisfied grin before he went back to hammering another board in place. Shane’s next question was whispered into the shell of his ear as he bent over him, making Llew stop his hammering mid-swing.
“You thought about me too, didn’t you?”
Llew let the hammer fall from his hands, the loud clanging against the hard wood sounded like an admission of finality. He’d given up, he couldn’t fight anymore. He liked Shane, liked him a lot. As a friend, as a boss, as a… goddamnit, a lover.
Maybe Shane could see the war waging inside him, because his smile dropped slightly. When the sun hit him just right, the soft glare radiating from him reminded Llew of the color of sand across the Libyan Desert. Sparkling and radiant.
“Take me to your room.”
When Llew didn’t move in response the command, Shane kept on.
“I’m not gonna pressure you, babe. I got something for you.”
Llew’s brow uplifted.
Shane shook his head at him, his lively smile now back in place. He put his hand on Llew’s waist, squeezing the sweaty skin beneath his t-shirt. “That’s not what I’m talking about, but when you’re ready, you’re welcome to that anytime.”
Llew didn’t want to move away from Shane’s touch, but he unhooked his tool belt, never taking his eyes off Shane, and walked around the back of the house. Curiosity, if nothing else, had Llew’s long legs moving quickly towards his still un-furnished room. He’d be glad when Leslie came in a couple days, this was getting to be embarrassing.
Llew unlocked his door and let the only company he’d had in his new home inside. He didn’t bother turning around, just went into the kitchen, and grabbed a couple bottles of water, setting one on the counter for Shane. Again, he was over at the little corner Llew had set up for his books and laptop.
“I know where you can get some book cases.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. I make them.” Shane shrugged nonchalantly, picking up one of Llew’s sketchbooks. “In my garage. I got a whole workshop in there. Drafting table, cabinet saw, a stand planer. Everything I need. Even though I…. ” Shane stopped talking while he flipped through the pages of Llew’s book.
He had an urge to go and ease the book from Shane’s fingers, because, of course that nagging feeling you’d get when someone looked at your art and they may think it’s not good enough was swirling around in his gut. Llew had been designing buildings and homes for as long as he could hold a crayon. He was also hoping Shane wouldn’t touch his laptop, waking it up to reveal the last thing he’d looked at before falling asleep. Finding a half-naked model splayed across the screen that looked as similar to Shane as he could find would probably freak him out.
“Oh, my god,” Shane said, flipping each page carefully. “I’ve never seen anything like this. They’re so detailed; and sleek as fuck, man. How did you learn to draw like this?”
Llew didn’t have an answer. He didn’t want to seem arrogant by saying it came naturally to him, but it did. He had some training in high school, did all the camps, clubs and seminars for youth architects, but most of his craft was fine-tuned in prison. He bet that would look stellar on a resume. Big Waldo kept him up-to-date with the latest textbooks and instructional DVDs. It helped him stay sane all those years being able to continue to learn about what had always been one of the most important parts of him. He knew he could go back to school now. There were state programs and funding available for him, but he knew design like the back of his hand. If life held him back too much longer, he’d get the piece of paper – a bachelor’s degree in architecture and design, if it was the only way for him to advance. He felt his blueprints and drafts spoke for themselves.