Page 12 of Paint Our Song (Cloverlily #1)

M egan’s a force to be reckoned with and she sits down with both Miles and Calvin the first chance she gets. She shows them videos and memes that are currently trending, and sets out milestones for them to achieve, as well as a content schedule. Miles can see Calvin making a very strong attempt to not turn around and leave, and he can’t blame him. The whole conversation makes Miles dizzy and overwhelmed, too.

She assigns Miles to be Calvin’s unofficial tour guide. Not that he’s complaining. Calvin doesn’t complain, either, and it’s fun hanging out with him every single day. He’s started seeking him out every morning, and it’s nice to see Calvin’s hackles slowly lower the more they spend time with each other.

They’re trying to figure out what to do one day when Megan takes it upon herself and says to Calvin, “Miles can rent a boat and take you to Crystal Bay; you can take pictures of the place, especially the sunset. Don’t forget to tag the inn. ”

“Sunset at Crystal Bay?” Miles asks, startled. It’s a popular spot for couples, and he’s caught off-guard. Megan glares at him, and he clears his throat. “Yes, boss.”

So, against his will—even if he’s way too excited about yet again spending time with Calvin—Miles rents a boat and takes him to one of the best sights of the lake where he can snap photos and upload them as stories on Instagram. Crystal Bay, which is about an hour’s ride away from the inn, has shores surrounded by tall trees and blue-green water that’s popular with tourists.

It’s also romantic as hell, and Miles wonders if Calvin is thinking the same.

“You know what I realized?” Miles asks as Calvin snaps photos. “I’ve never actually seen you swim, despite being next to a lake for weeks now.”

“I haven’t seen you swim, either.”

“Yeah, but I’m not a tourist.”

Calvin raises an eyebrow at him. “How is that even relevant?”

“You’re here as a tourist, yet you’re not doing tourist things.”

“I told you, I like being here because I like how quiet it is.”

Grinning, Miles says, “Another thing I realized is that if you’re not going to post selfies, then we might as well have just taken the photos and videos for you and you could have posted it on your own time. You didn’t actually have to come all the way out here.”

Calvin cocks his head and folds his arms, the wind tousling his dark hair around. “You’re trying to trick me into taking a selfie.”

“Just saying.”

“Come here.” Calvin gestures for him to inch closer .

“Wait… seriously?” He was only teasing, and he’s utterly out of his element when Calvin yanks him by the sleeve and holds his phone out. He flips the camera into selfie mode and Miles is pretty sure his heart’s about to burst out of his chest when Calvin snaps a photo.

“You’re okay with me posting this, right? I’ll type here that I’m hanging out with a friend and tag your inn.”

Holy shit? “Yeah, of course,” Miles says, looking at his screen. Both their hair’s a mess because of the wind, and Calvin looks so damn cute in his glasses. They’re both smiling at the camera and the photo is angled in a way to show the water behind them.

Miles doesn’t think he’s ever seen Calvin post something so casual on his social media before, and it makes his skin buzz.

He watches over Calvin’s shoulder as he types in the words. Miles doesn’t notice he’s leaning into Calvin’s space until Calvin posts it and then turns to him, and then backs away by a fraction. Calvin’s eyes dart to his mouth before he looks away abruptly.

Awkward. Miles clears his throat.

“Can you send me that?” He hopes that Calvin doesn’t read into what he’s saying, or doesn’t think he’s a creep for even asking. “Without the text, I mean. Just the photo of us. Uh. It’s a nice photo.”

“Sure.” Calvin hunches his shoulders and tucks his chin into his chest, focusing on his phone. He starts bouncing his knee in that way he does when he’s anxious.

Miles has a vague memory of what Gil did when Chase was in this state, and how he put a hand on his wrist to calm him down.

He tries that—reaches out and puts a hand on Calvin’s knee, and Calvin sucks in a breath, but his leg goes still. Calvin doesn’t push his hand away, though, and Miles can’t help but rub a thumb against his knee in an attempt to calm him down even more.

He doesn’t even ask what’s triggering his nerves. If Calvin wanted to, he’d tell him.

“Thanks,” Calvin mumbles, almost too quietly for him to hear, and for a split-second Miles wonders if his hopeless crush isn’t actually that hopeless after all.

His phone gets a barrage of notifications, and Miles knows it’s because Calvin’s tagged him in the story. When a famous musician with half a million followers does that, it’s expected. Calvin’s reach is incredible, and his posts—even without his face—have successfully gotten them more followers and bookings. It’s still not at the rate they’re targeting, but it’s getting there.

“Hey.” Calvin taps his wrist lightly from where it’s still resting on his knee. “Have you been painting? You mentioned your gallery wants you to give them new pieces.”

“Ah. No, not so much, but not for lack of trying. I always have a hard time painting when I’m in town. Don’t worry though, I’ll do your painting soon.”

“I’m not rushing you. Why do you have a hard time painting here, though? The town’s beautiful. Most of your early works are from this town, right?”

Miles’s chest flutters at the fact that Calvin has been following him long enough to know about which pieces of his were his early works. “This place reminds me too much of Dad.”

“Oh. ”

He can tell that Calvin’s about to apologize, and he cuts him off before it happens. Miles asks, “You know that painting of Mom’s garden that’s hung in the lobby?”

“Yes?”

“It’s the last thing I did from this place. Dad really liked that time of the year when the color of the leaves turn orange, and he was upset when he realized he wasn’t going to see it that year because, uh, the doctors didn’t think he’d make it to autumn. So, I painted it for him. I haven’t been able to paint anything else in this town since then.”

“That’s sweet.” Calvin smiles, the sight cracking Miles’s chest wide open. Talking about Dad always stirs an ache in him, but just seeing Calvin’s too honest expression softens the blow.

“Thanks.”

He doesn’t realize that he’s gripping Calvin’s knee tightly until Calvin glances down at it.

“Sorry,” he croaks, finally letting go and taking his hand back. As soon as he inches away from Calvin, his chest tightens. Miles frowns and rubs at his sternum. Fuck, he tells himself he’s not doing this today. He needs to get his mind off the stupid emptiness in him. “Ah, shit.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Calvin gives him a long look. “You okay over there?”

“Yeah. I’m good.” Miles pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes, slumping over and telling himself to hold it together. He jokes, “Sharing something so vulnerable makes me physically ill.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yes.” Okay, he’s good now. See—all he needed was a breather. Miles sits up straight and grins widely at Calvin. “Sorry for getting all deep and weird.”

“It wasn’t weird.”

“It kind of was.” Miles pokes his ribs, and Calvin swats him. “You should share something real about you to even the stakes.”

A laugh. “You’re kidding.”

“Totally not. Tell me your deep darkest secrets. Something you haven’t admitted to anybody else before.”

Calvin leans back and crosses his arm, his gaze darting across Miles’s face. There’s something unnerving with how he’s being studied, as if Calvin can see right through him.

“I’m kidding, don’t worry,” Miles says. “You don’t have to—”

“I’ve binge-watched Gossip Girl an absurd amount of times.”

That makes Miles wheeze. “That’s hardly deep.”

“It’s a secret, though.”

“Why? Nothing to be ashamed of. Ed Westwick is hot.”

“Not my type, but you do you.”

Miles meets his eyes. “What’s your type, then?”

He only gets a smirk in return.

“You owe me another secret if you’re not going to tell me what your type is,” Miles challenges. “And something actually vulnerable this time.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re annoyingly persistent?”

“Nope,” he lies. “First time I’m hearing that. Come on, give me something.”

“Okay, but don’t judge me.” Calvin raises his chin and grins, and even if his tone is light and unserious, what he says next unsettles Miles. “What about… I think that among everyone in our band, I’m the one who’d be easily forgotten if we went our own ways? Like my ex said… I’m too ordinary.”

Miles can’t help but huff out a chuckle, and Calvin gives him an amused look. “Sorry. It’s just that I meant it before when I said not a single thing about you is ordinary, and it’s unreal to me that you don’t see that.”

“That’s sappy.”

He pokes him in the ribs again, and Calvin shoves him away. Miles says, “It’s sappy, but I’m serious. You’re incredible, and I’m never going to shut up about it.”

“God.” Calvin laughs and scrubs a hand over his face.

Miles isn’t done learning more about him. “Tell me about how you write songs.”

“Hm? Like, how I get inspiration?”

“Yes, and then how you put it together, with the melody and all that. I don’t know shit about music, but I want to learn how your band does it.”

“Fan boy,” he teases.

“Exactly.”

Maybe it’s because Calvin can probably tell he’s deflecting, but Calvin gives him what he wants and doesn’t call him out for it. Calvin tells him about thinking of a concept or a theme, listening to a ton of different songs for inspiration, coming up with the chords and all that. Apparently, Chase and Gil are the ones who do most of that, with some input from him and Theo. The lyrics and the vocals usually come last, with Calvin working on most of it.

Miles is so into the whole thing that he almost forgets that they’re here to take photos of the sunset that Megan made them come out for. He looks over his shoulder at how the sun casts orange and red hues on the horizon, and how it reflects on the water.

“You need to take photos,” he reminds Calvin.

“Right.” Calvin takes his phone out and snaps more photos, posting a few of them on his stories. When he’s done, he asks, “Want to take another picture with me?”

“Of course.”

He beams at the camera, his face warm as Calvin takes a picture. Their shoulders are pressed against each other and if he moved his hand by the tiniest fraction, he’d be able to brush his fingers over Calvin’s.

That’d be weird of him, though.

He examines the photo over Calvin’s shoulder. It undeniably looks romantic and intimate, with the way the sky and the water are orange and red behind them, and how close and happy they look. Maybe that’s why Calvin stares at it for a good second and doesn’t post it—to keep rumors away. He does send it to Miles, though.

“Not posting that?” Miles asks.

He shakes his head. “Only for our eyes.”

Miles would be hurt if it weren’t for the wide smile Calvin gives him, dimples and all.

They head back to the inn, and Miles docks the boat at the nearest pier. It’s the weekly bonfire at the inn, and the fire’s already going with a small crowd surrounding it and the usual live music being played. They walk toward the bonfire, and Calvin pulls his hoodie over his head in an attempt to be more subtle.

“We don’t have to stay outside,” Miles assures him.

“I don’t mind. I just don’t like it when people make a fuss about me and ask to play my songs.”

“Because you don’t like the attention?”

Calvin blinks at him. “Well, partly, I guess. But more like Jeanette and her band’s playing songs they’ve written, and people should hear it.”

Shit. He’s adorable. Miles didn’t think his crush could get any stronger, but Calvin keeps surprising him, anyway.

“Miles!”

He looks up to see Jeff pulling away from the crowd and jogging toward him, a huge grin on his face. Miles reminds himself not to make a face, because if Jeff brings up selling the inn again, he might just lose it.

Jeff comes to a stop in front of him, nodding at Calvin politely before turning to Miles. “I was hoping to see you. Does your inn still host weddings?”

“Huh? I think so.” There hasn’t been one since he came back, but he’s pretty sure that’s because of lack of interest and not because they’ve stopped doing it. “Why? Isn’t your wedding very soon, though?”

“Yes. It’s supposed to be held in Camilla, but Bridget saw your inn on social media and got very emotional about it.” He shrugs. “She said her grandparents had their wedding here, and realized it would actually be so much more personal and sentimental if we did, too. We’ve got all the vendors covered and would just need to move the venue to your inn.”

“Oh. Uh. When’s the date? How many guests?”

“October twenty-fifth. We’ve got two hundred on the list right now.”

Miles reminds himself not to gape. What the hell—two hundred? “That’s barely three weeks from now.”

“I know, but—hear me out. Bridget and her friends are all pretty big in the fashion industry, and this could be good publicity for your inn as well. Also, I want her to get what she wants, so I can assure you I won’t spare expenses if you give us this.”

“I’ll… see what I can do. Text me all the details,” he says.

“Thank you.” Jeff sighs and rubs his chin. “Thank your friend, that guy from that huge band. Bridget’s a fan and has been talking my ear off about all the posts he’s been making about your inn.”

From how he says this without even looking at Calvin, it’s clear he has no clue that Calvin’s the person he’s talking about—probably doesn’t follow the band as much as his fiancee does.

After Jeff returns to the bonfire, Miles turns to Calvin, who tilts his head at him.

“You’re welcome,” Calvin says with a teasing smirk, and fuck, Miles’s heart flips. It does an entire somersault.

***

Miles isn’t sure if it’s related, but after hanging out with Calvin every day, he’s able to work on his art. It’s as if a switch in him has been flipped. He’s been suspicious about Calvin’s effect on him since a few weeks ago, when he watched him jogging down the lake and had the urge to sketch, and is even more convinced that Calvin inspires him now that he’s filling out his sketchbook.

Mom finds him in the garden one late afternoon while he’s sketching—and this time, the papers aren’t crumpled and he hasn’t frustratingly run harsh pencil marks over his drafts.

“Hi.” Mom kisses his head and sits beside him. He nods and leans toward her, and she puts an arm around him. She asks, “Is this Calvin’s band?”

“Yeah, I’m giving him a painting in exchange for his help.”

“Oh, yes, you did mention that.”

Mom looks over the pages, settling on the one she likes best—the band lounging on the couch with relaxed expressions. Chase is lying on his side, his head on Gil’s lap, his ankle resting on Calvin’s thigh, and Theo is on the furthest side of the sofa with an arm around Calvin. It’s a mash-up of several photos Calvin sent him.

She asks, “Have you shown these to him?”

“No… are they any good?”

“Of course, Miles.” Mom sighs in mock exasperation, rolling her eyes. “There’s a reason you’re as successful as you are.”

He grins, not pointing out that he could show her stick figures, and she’d call it a masterpiece.

“Calvin loves this roof garden,” Miles says, changing the subject. “I think he likes quiet places, and being alone.”

“Isn’t his band very popular, though? It must be hard for him, then. ”

“Yeah, people walk up to him all the time. He’s kind about it, though. I’ve never seen him actually turn anyone down.” He says it more fondly than he intended. “He’s amazing. Did you know he writes their songs? I didn’t even know until recently. It’s kind of weird how I’m hanging out with someone whose music I’ve been listening to for the longest time.”

“He writes their songs,” she repeats. The way she says it is odd—it’s strangely melancholic. “I’m grateful for him, then.”

Miles tilts his head. “What do you mean?”

“He got you through tough times.” His mom doesn’t elaborate, though she does fiddle with the pendant hanging from her neck, and Miles tracks the movement. It doesn’t seem like she plans on explaining herself, though. Instead, she pulls him close again, leaning her head against his shoulder. “You like him,” she states.

“I do.” He thought it was obvious.

She pinches his side, and he wheezes in surprise. It’s a ticklish spot. “You have a crush on him.”

Warmth blooms on Miles’s face. He attempts to say something—anything—but he’s left blubbering, his mouth opening and closing as he fails.

It’s stupid, really. He’s a grown adult, and Calvin makes him act like he’s got a schoolboy crush, as if he’s learning for the first time how to be into someone.

“I do not,” he squeaks.

“Yes, you do.”

“Mom!”

She goes through the pages again and then comes to a stop. Miles’ shoulders stiffen when he sees what she’s looking at. He forgot about that page. It’s one of his practice pieces, a random image that came up in his mind that he drew for no reason.

“Is this the garden?” she asks.

It’s a sketch of Calvin in the garden, leaning over the parapet, staring at the lake. Miles sketched the garden absurdly lush. There are more plants than there actually are, and the greeneries spill over the parapet, crawling down the walls.

If someone asked, he wouldn’t be able to tell why he even sketched this. It was a memory in the back of his head, an image he saw once and wanted to draw.

Unlike most of the pages on his sketchpad, he painted this one with watercolors. He doesn’t usually paint practice sketches, but he had the overwhelming need to for this.

Miles frowns, wanting to reach out and take it from her. He wants to rip the page out because it says way too much.

She studies him for a second. Then she backtracks a few pages to a sketch of the band where they’re crowded together on the couch. “This one’s my favorite. Show him this one.”

“Fine,” he says, face still red. He pulls it closer and takes a photo and sends it to Calvin.

Me: How do u feel about this?

He doesn’t know what Calvin’s up to right now. He’s learned that Calvin likes taking walks along the lake and lounging out front with a book, and he’s also seen him drinking coffee out by the deck. Miles also knows that he hangs out on the balcony of his room because of some stories he’s posted—but at the moment, he doesn’t know where Calvin is. And he won’t know what Calvin’s expression will be when he sees the sketch.

“Let’s have supper,” Mom says, urging him to get up. They usually eat in the dining room, with meals prepared by the staff. He hopes they have something good today.

Miles gathers up his things and puts them away and follows her downstairs.

They have baked chicken that night, and the smell that wafts through the room is incredible. The dining room has more guests than usual, which is good, and he has a hunch why—and it isn’t until Gabby joins them that he confirms his theory.

“Calvin’s efforts are paying off. Of course, this is also thanks to Miles,” she says. Her hair’s a bright pink today. Miles is amazed she has so much time to dye it, and that it still looks healthy despite all the changes. “There were more than the usual walk-in guests today. The kitchen’s still playing catch-up.”

“That’s great,” Mom says, her eyes twinkling.

She really does look impressed, and it tugs at Miles’s heart. He did this. He had a part in this, and he hopes it only gets even better.

They’re in the middle of eating when Miles’ phone vibrates in his pocket. His heart takes a leap when he sees that it’s Calvin.

Cat-vin: It’s beautiful .

It’s curt and direct to the point. Reading Calvin’s tone—or lack of it—is difficult on a normal day, more so through text messages. Miles can’t tell if he actually means it or if he’s only being polite.

Me: do u want to see the others and choose? I made a few

Cat-vin: sure .

Me: where are you?

Cat-vin: Watching a movie at the mall downtown. I can meet you at the inn later.

Me: Did you walk all the way there??? Wat r you watching?

Cat-vin: Yeah. Some documentary about the ocean. Idk. It’s not interesting.

Miles clasps a hand over his mouth. What is even going on? Why would Calvin go all the way there to watch a boring documentary? Before he can convince himself not to, he calls him.

“Hi,” Calvin mutters. There’s a man’s monotonous voice talking in the background.

“Do you need a ride?” Miles asks.

“No. You’re not my chauffeur.”

“Relax, I wanted to head there and get something for my mom, anyway.” Shit, now he has to think of what to get Mom.

There’s a strange pause from Calvin. The old man’s talking about… otters? Calvin lets out a sigh. “I can’t leave. Some people were making a fuss over how I was here, so I snuck into this movie. Not sure if they’re still outside.”

Aaaand, there it is.

“Okay. I’ll go grab my mom’s stuff and meet you by the movie theater.”

“Fine. Thank you.” The call ends.

“Who are you talking to?” Gabby asks, peering over his shoulder. He instinctively locks his phone and puts it away, but Gabby’s already seen Calvin’s name on the screen.

She smirks .

Ever since he and Calvin drove to Ridgeford together, she’s been much more aggressive with her teasing. For some reason, Gabby has this absurd idea that Calvin’s into him.

After Mom excuses herself and steps away to talk to some of the staff, Gabby leans toward Miles and says, very directly, “Ask him out.”

“Wha—no.”

“Why not?”

Miles levels a glare at her.

Gabby chuckles. “It’s time. You haven’t seen anyone since Matthew.”

“I most definitely have seen people since Matt.”

“One time hookups don’t count.”

He’s suddenly very, very appreciative that Mom’s across the room and out of earshot. There’s no way she can hear this conversation. “Listen, what makes you think that Calvin would even be remotely interested in me?”

There’s a strange glint in her eyes. “Call it a hunch,” she says.

“Bye.”

Miles puts away his dishes—and helps clear some of the other tables while he’s there—then heads to his car with his sketchbook in hand. He searches up the movie schedule and sees that the film Calvin’s watching—an indie film called The Blue Ocean —has about half an hour more to go. Damn, the things he does to get some privacy, really.