Page 102 of Paint Our Song

“How many bedrooms?”

“Two. I use one room for my painting, though.”

“A studio? Can I see?”

“Now?”

Calvin gives him a long look as if he finds his question silly. “Yes.”

He leads his way to the studio, which really is like any other room but with a work table, shelves, and a lot of paper found in every corner. There are many boards stacked up against the walls—paintings which Miles finished but didn’t like, and left there to be forgotten. There are also a few paintings framed on the wall—paintings that Miles liked too much to sell. The room has a faint chalky and earthy smell, a mixture of the different papers and paint.

“You do charcoal, too?” Calvin asks. There’s an opened box of charcoal sticks on the table. On the shelf, there are boxes of different paints, not only the usual watercolors he uses. There are different canvases, too. Calvin looks around with so much interest that it makes Miles’s heart thrum.

“I do a bit of… everything? For fun? Watercolor paintings are my forte, though. Are you staying tonight?”

Calvin’s eyes widen, as if he didn’t think that far yet. “I… do you want me to? I stink. I came straight from our gig, and I didn’t bring a change of clothes.”

“Sure,” Miles shrugs. “You can take a shower, if you’d like. And go through my closet. I don’t really care. I’m just happy you’re here.”

“O-okay,” Calvin stammers. “I need to leave early, though. To get ready for that stupid photo shoot.”

“No worries. I need to go to the gallery before my manager bites my head off, anyway.”

They head to Miles’s bedroom, and Calvin takes some fresh clothes from his closet. He doesn’t miss how Calvin thoughtfully looks around the room. It’s a boring bedroom like the rest of the apartment, apart from the studio. The walls are bare and the curtains are drawn open, showing the empty street outside. Calvin’s eyes flicker to the ball cap from the music festival a few weeks ago, the one he signed.

“What the… you keep this on top of your nightstand?”

Miles grins. “It reminds me of you.”

“Oh my god.” Calvin walks away laughing, disappearing into the bathroom.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Miles gets comfortable while Calvin’s in the shower, lying against his bed’s headboard and yawning. It’s so late, and he’s exhausted, and he’s sure it’s the same for Calvin. He dozes off again until the door to the bathroom opens, and Calvin steps out while he’s toweling his wet hair.

He isn’t wearing a shirt, only sweatpants, and Miles groans as if this were a punishment. Calvin gives him a skeptical look, then turns to the open windows. He seems to consider it, and Miles watches as he crosses the room, switches the lights off, and shuts the curtains… and,oh.Yeah. Miles is totally into this, especially when Calvin climbs on top of him and straddles him, leaning in to kiss him softly on the mouth. There’s still light coming in from the hallway, so the room isn’t dark enough that Miles can’t see the outlines of his face.

“I’m really glad you were impulsive today,” Miles says. He holds the towel around Calvin’s shoulder by the edges and uses it to yankhim closer again, kissing across his jaw and then at his neck. Calvin lets out a breath and tilts his head up, giving him more access. “We could go right to sleep. I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

“Are you?”

“No,” he lies.

Calvin snorts and threads his hands in his hair. He kisses him again, and Miles groans when he shifts his hips, rutting against him once.

“The lube’s in the shower, actually,” Miles says sheepishly.

“It was.” He reaches into the pocket of his sweatpants and brings out the small bottle.

“Wow. How efficient.”

“Shut up.” Calvin smashes his mouth against his, probably to stop his teasing. Miles grins and pulls away to reach over to his nightstand, but Calvin seems to understand what he needs and gets it himself. He opens the shelf and grabs a condom, and Miles watches as he throws the towel aside and pulls off his sweatpants.

Miles swallows, his heart hammering in his chest, and Calvin helps him take his clothes off as well. Then Calvin straddles him again, his throat bobbing. Sighing, he noses Calvin’s neck and pats around the bed, searching for the lube.

Calvin says, “I actually. Um. I’m already ready.”

“Uh?”