Page 19

Chapter 19

Weston

A s Darcy and I make our way to the gallery where Parker is displaying their work, I slide my hand into his. His steps falter a little, but he recovers quickly, giving my fingers a little squeeze where they’re twined through his.

I wouldn’t be able to wipe the smile off my face if I tried. I still wish I had been able to fuck Marcus up, but, hey, Darcy was right. All we had to do was sit back and watch him implode.

Parker’s waiting for us by the doors when we arrive, a shy smile on their face. It’s a little disorienting. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen them with anything but a cocky smirk. I tilt my head to the side. “Are you okay?”

Parker nods, but doesn’t say anything. Okay. Weird. So fucking weird.

Darcy laughs. “Park is strange about their art. Always has been. Cocky, outgoing, take no crap Parker? Yeah, they don’t exist here. ”

That pretty much stuns me into silence. Interesting. “Well, I can’t wait to see it.”

Parker’s eyes go wide. “Yeah, don’t say that to me or I may crash out. And if you hate it, never talk to me again.”

Oh my. Okay. “I’m sure they’ll be great,” I say, trying to assure them. Not that I really know anything about art.

My phone buzzes from my pocket as Darcy and I walk hand in hand past Parker. It’s my dad. I know it is. He’s been calling off and on all day. Well, all week really. And I’m ignoring him, just like I have every other time. It’s not worth getting worked up over, and he would definitely get me worked up.

Why would I want to spend the night irritated over him when I could enjoy Darcy and his presence instead?

I nearly jump out of my skin when Benson comes up beside me. “Hey.”

“Holy hell. Hey,” I respond, glancing over at him. “What are you doing here?”

Ben smirks. “Hopefully the artist.”

Darcy fake gags beside me. “You two are going to be insufferable, aren’t you?” he asks, leaning past me to look at Benson.

“Possibly,” Ben says with a shrug.

“Ugh.” Parker approaches us, and Darcy lets my hand drop. Looping his arm through Parker’s, he turns back and flashes me a smile. “Gonna go check things out. You coming?”

I want to. But… “I’m going to talk to Ben for a second.”

Darcy nods. “Okie doke.”

The two of them take off walking, their steps in pace with one another.

“So,” Ben says, nudging me with his elbow. “Darcy, huh?”

“So,” I tease back. “Parker, huh? ”

Benson sighs, sounding completely love-sick and ridiculous. “Yeah. They’re something else.” Before I even have a chance to respond, he’s smirking at me. “Football pants, eh?”

My face flushes. “I don’t care about the football pants.”

“Sure, sure. Unless he’s wearing them,” Ben says, hitting me in the side with his elbow.

I can’t help but roll my eyes, trying to ignore the way my stomach is doing wild flips. “Well, considering he’s not wearing football pants and won’t, that’s basically a moot point. The more important question is what you’re doing with Parker. Are you about to make my relationship with Darcy really awkward?”

Ben sighs, uncharacteristically serious. “That’s not at all my plan. Might be theirs, though.”

“I think I’m bi,” I blurt out.

“Good for you, man,” Ben says, patting my back.

Fucking asshole. “You’re cool with that, right?”

Benson side eyes me. “Uh, yeah. I’m pan, so it would be shitty of me to not be okay with that.”

“Pan?” I ask. Good God, I’m gonna need to do some research.

Ben’s loud laugh has me rolling my eyes. “Yeah, man. Hearts not parts. Let’s go catch up with Park and Darcy.”

Ben and I weave our way through the exhibits. Parker’s take up an entire wall—large canvases hung in a row. Each one has a label. I glance ahead and notice that Darcy and Parker are deep in conversation. Parker’s hands are flying through the air, animated as hell. Their heads are tucked close together and Darcy’s fingers are twitching at his side like he’s resisting the urge to reach out and touch the intricate painting.

I stop at the first in the row, with Ben beside me.

The tag below the painting says Anger .

The art I consume the most is words. Obviously. But fuck, there’s really something to be said about this too. Or at least Parker’s. I figured they were at least marginally talented, especially to have their painting displayed in an art show like this, but I wasn’t quite expecting… this.

The blacks and reds streaked across the canvas look angry. Like Parker was pulling the anger straight from some hidden place in their soul while they were painting it. The red is jagged, blending into the black and murky purples. It’s magnificent. I’ve never seen anything like it.

It’s violent, almost.

I can feel it, like a strange tug in my stomach. Like I’ve just gotten off the phone with my dad after he’s yelled at me and berated me. It’s uncanny. And it almost makes me a little uncomfortable.

Ben blows out a sharp breath, reminding me he’s standing beside me. “Holy shit,” he whispers.

“Honestly.”

The two of us just stand side by side, staring at the painting for a second. I can’t speak for Ben, but I’m pretty fucking awed.

We move to the next exhibit and I know what it is before I even look at the word Fear below it. The muted blues and grays alone make it feel horrific. Not in a cheesy horror movie way, either. The white peeking through the dull colors doesn’t feel like light. It feels like light slipping away. Like hope slipping away.

“Holy fuck, Ben,” I whisper. “How the fuck do they do this?”

Ben swallows audibly. “Not a clue, man. They’re fucking perfection, though.”

Something tells me he’s not talking about just the paintings.

I can’t come up with a single reason why Parker would be worried about people seeing their art. I can’t speak for everyone, but personally, I can’t drag my eyes away from it. It’s like real fear in a way—awful and gripping—holding you hostage and freezing you in place.

I glance at Ben from the corner of my eye and watch as his eyes drag over the painting. It’s slow and methodical, like he’s committing each inch to memory. I didn’t think he’d be so into art, but hey, I guess we’re learning all kinds of new things about each other today.

After a few more seconds, he clears his throat and makes his way down the line. We’ve finally caught up to where Darcy and Parker are standing. The second I’m close enough to Darcy to grab him, I do. Wrapping my arm around his waist, I haul him in close to my side and press a kiss to his temple. He hums.

I look at Parker. They’re chewing on their bottom lip. I’ve never seen them look quite so shy before. It’s almost as unsettling as the Fear painting was.

“You good, Park?” Ben asks quietly, reaching out to brush his thumb reverently down Parker’s cheek.

Parker jolts, their eyes darting quickly around before nodding. “You guys hate them, don’t you?”

I, for one, am a little taken aback. I’m quite honestly speechless, which Parker immediately takes as a bad sign.

“Of course not. Your paintings are amazing, Parker. Truly.” Ben’s voice is filled with sincerity, and Parker nods, exhaling an unsteady breath.

They lock blue eyes on me. “And you?” Before I can even answer, they’re shaking their head. “No. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”

“I don’t even have words, Parker. It’s… like nothing I’ve ever seen before. I can’t imagine why you’re self-conscious about your art.”

Darcy chuckles. “See, Park. Told you.”

I turn Darcy in my hold so I can look at the next painting. This one is labeled Love.

It’s soft. There’s red, like anger, but also not at all like anger. It’s bright. Cheerful. Hopeful. There are varying shades of pink throughout. Even little bits of gold. It’s… fucking otherworldly.

A light feeling settles in my chest as I stare at it.

“Wow,” Ben breathes. “This might be my favorite, Park.” The soft quality of his voice would have me smiling if not for the way my heart is pounding against my rib cage.

“I painted it in one sitting,” Parker says quietly, reaching out to touch the painting. There’s something a little off about their voice—almost a little wistful or sad, and I glance at them out of the corner of my eye to find their face matches the tone. “It’s the only one I did.”

Darcy leans into me, resting his head against me as I take in the painting. It’s… safe. Grounding. Like curling up in a cozy blanket and reading. Like falling into a book and escaping into another world. The warmth is so palpable from Parker’s brushstrokes, I’m almost convinced I can feel it inside myself. And the longer I stare at it, the more I’m sure I can . Warmth—so much warmth—winding itself around my bones, settling in my heart, and seeping into my side where Darcy’s body is pressed against me.

It’s a realization. An exhaled breath. Clarity.

I think I’m falling in love with Darcy.

The thought is like lightning in my veins. Darcy pulls from my embrace, but twines his fingers through mine and leads me to the next painting. It’s gorgeous, but I’m so mindfucked from the last one that I barely even have room for anything else.

There’s just Darcy. The warmth of his hand in mine, the quirk of his lips as he glances at me over his shoulder, the soft murmur of his voice as he talks to Parker and Ben. We walk from exhibit to exhibit. There’s plenty of good art here. But nothing quite like Parker’s. They are so fucking talented. Theirs outshines all the other art here.

Or maybe the only reason I feel that way is because of the visceral reaction I had to their work. But then, if the other work was as good as Parker’s, wouldn’t it have caused the same reaction?

Darcy is talking quietly with Parker. But just like when he was trying to teach me the other day, the only thing I can focus on is his mouth and the way his lips move as each word passes through them. And suddenly, the urge to kiss him is overwhelming. Sharp and unrelenting. An ache in my chest. I’m a mess.

“Darcy,” I murmur, my voice hoarse.

He pauses mid-sentence, turning toward me with a raised eyebrow. “Yeah?”

I clear my throat. “Can you walk outside with me?”

Darcy glances around, confused. “Now?”

“Yes. Now. Please?”

He watches me for a second, his eyes searching mine. He nods slightly. “We’ll be right back,” he says, not taking his eyes off mine. Thank God.

He leads me right out the door, and the second we’re outside the building, I take over, walking into the alley.

Darcy turns to me, his mouth opening, likely to ask me what’s going on, but before he can get the words out, I’m cupping his face in my hands and bringing our lips together.

I think I intended for it to be gentle and light. It’s not. It’s a desperate attempt to make sense of my feelings. A desperate attempt to get him as close to me as possible. He gasps against my mouth, his hands landing on my stomach, sliding up my chest, and weaving around my neck .

I should stop. I know that. But I can’t. And truthfully, I don’t want to, so I back him up until he hits the brick wall with a grunt that’s muted against my mouth. I swallow the sound, sliding my fingers into his hair and tangling them around the silky strands.

He makes a noise. Something breathless, and it has my cock throbbing in time with my heartbeat. I press against him, blocking him in fully between the wall and my body.

He groans, tightening his grip around my neck and dragging me closer, even though there’s really no way I can be closer. His lips part under mine and I take advantage, slipping my tongue past his lips and savoring his taste.

His hips jerk forward, and the feel of his cock against me is almost my undoing. This is so fucking everything. He is so fucking everything. I can’t stop kissing him. We kiss until my lungs are burning, but I don’t even want to stop for air. Who the fuck needs oxygen anyway?

I slip my hand to the back of his head, putting my knuckles between it and the hard wall, kissing him deeper, living for the shaky moans he’s feeding me. Finally, when I can’t ignore my need to breathe, I pull back, gasping for air as I rest my forehead against his.

“Fuck,” he gasps. “Art really does it for you, huh?”

I let out a breathless chuckle. “Nah, baby. You do it for me.”

A rough sound tears from Darcy’s throat and he pulls me back in, our lips crashing together again. When his thigh pushes between mine, his hips move, grinding himself against my cock. He moans, and I echo the sound.

This is quickly spiraling out of control, though. As much as I want to make him come, as much as I want to see him lose himself in pleasure, I won’t do it here—which means this has to stop.

I pull away reluctantly, putting some much-needed space between us. I let my fingers fall away from his hair and take a step back. For a few minutes, he doesn’t move. His chest is heaving and his eyes are closed, his head dropped back against the wall. When he finally opens his eyes, the look in them almost has me changing my mind about the no sex in the alley thing.

But, no. We can’t do that here. First off, I wouldn’t put it past Parker and Ben coming to find us, and that’s not a position I want them to see Darcy in. He’s mine. I don’t want anyone to see him like that but me.

The same can’t be said for later, though. “Come home with me again tonight.”

Darcy hesitates. “West, I can’t just be at your place all the time.”

“Why not?” I ask, scoffing.

He grins, shaking his head a little. “Well…”

“See, you don’t even have a good reason.”

I can tell he’s trying to fight back laughter. He rolls his eyes. “Okay. Fine. But I’ll have to run home first because we are supposed to have a tutoring session tomorrow and don’t think I’m about to let you out of it.”

“Yes, professor,” I say, smirking at him.

He groans. “Why is it hot when you call me that, but it makes me want to crawl out of my skin when Parker does?”

I shrug. “Probably because you want to fuck me, and you don’t want to fuck Parker.”

I expect him to laugh, but he doesn’t, and I’m not really sure what to think about that. He just gives me a thoughtful look. “Let’s go say goodbye to Park and Ben, and we’ll run by mine and grab what I need.”

He takes my hand in his and leads me back into the building. Parker and Benson are standing close. Parker is talking about a painting, their hands moving quickly as they point out things to Ben. I’d love to say Ben is paying attention, and I guess if you count gazing adoringly at Parker, he is.

When we approach, they turn to us, Parker just a little quicker than Ben.

“We’re going to head out,” Darcy says.

Parker smirks, their eyes a little too knowing. “Have fun, Darce. Thank you both for coming.”

“Thanks for inviting me,” I say. “Your art is insane. You shouldn’t feel weird about it at all.”

Parker’s cheeks turn bright red, their eyes darting away, but when they find me again, Parker nods. “Thank you.”

I’m not sure that I’ll ever get used to this side of them. “You’re welcome.”

I’m considering the merits of being rude and dragging Darcy away when he tugs on my hand. “Okay, well, let’s go.”

I’m not even bothered in the slightest by the laughter that follows us out the door.