huge, an ever-expanding thing with boundless reach and potential. But in that moment, hearing those words made me feel bigger than all of it. We kissed some more, my lips moving in tender brushes over his. Utterly spent, I wanted to savor him, and I traced his lips with the tip of my tongue before slowly sliding into his mouth, tasting him with leisure. Despite the lingering glow of sex, I couldn’t get enough of him.
Until my stomach growled, reminding me that time stood still for no man.
“I’m going to order us takeout—you’re spending the night?”
Channing stretched. “That sounds good. Could we shower first? And I’ll change the sheets if you show me where extra linens are.”
It was a hint of what our future could be, and it felt so right. Which meant I needed to include him in everything, the full scope of my world—even the old parts, and the scary parts. “I want to ask you a favor first.”
His beautifully sculpted brow arched. “Sure.”
“Come with me to the gallery show. Be my date.” My mind was already taking me to the gallery, to having Channing at my side, and seeing this part of my life that had been pivotal to my youth. It felt exciting to share a bit of me with him that very few of my current crew knew about. But when he hesitated, I frowned. “What?”
“I don’t know. The thought of being around that kind of wealth and ‘high society’ makes me feel weird. Like, I want to support you, but I also worry I’ll feel out of place if it’s super fancy.” Before I could protest, he put a finger against my lips, shushing me. “I’m not saying I’m afraid of money, or that I won’t come. Christian’s done a lot to help me acclimate to its presence. But growing up insecure and poor as shit makes it very difficult for me to feel okay in those kinds of spaces. It sort of overwhelms me.”
The thing was, I got it. One of the reasons Ian had been able to take over so much of me was that I’d grown up with little money in an angry household, and the dazzle of his fine art world wooed me. It was exotic and stimulating and rich, and I’d gotten a huge rush out of believing I was tricking everyone into thinking I belonged there. It was only much later, with distance and good friends, that I understood I had belonged there due to talent but… well, simply put, rich people shit the same as poor.
“I want you to know I hear you,” I said, choosing my words carefully. The wrong phrasing would sound like I was patronizing or handing down some kind of life lesson. I never wanted Channing to feel like he was being condescended to, not by me. “So if you truly don’t want to go, that’s okay. But it won’t be black tie—just suits. And it’s an alumni show, which is very different from a traditional gallery opening. Besides, I’ll be with you the entire time.”
I sat up, gesturing to my skin. “I’m covered in ink. I wear t-shirts every day, and I eat at an all-night diner more often than gastropubs. Hell, I don’t know if I’ve ever eaten at a place that serves pretty food on tiny plates. I’m not fancy. This isn’t going to change that.”
Channing laughed, easy and carefree, while reaching up to trace the wings of a swallow on my chest. “Yeah, fair enough. You aren’t fancy at all. Okay, sure, I’ll go—I want to see the art and see others appreciate your talent like I do.”
It hadn’t occurred to me how much I’d wanted him there until the relief spilled over when he said yes. In part because I’d be showcasing a portrait of him—his eyes, at least. But he’d also become such an important part of my life, and art was another great love of mine. I needed to be able to share it with him. The knowledge that I’d be able to do so was such a rush that I felt reinvigorated. Everywhere.
“What do you say about joining me in the shower?” I asked as I reached for him.
18
Channing
“Lord help us, he got a haircut and everything.” Dane was using the lint roller on the back of my suit jacket while we waited for Reagan to pick me up. “And is that… cologne?”
“Fuck you, dude,” I said, too nervous to come up with a zinger.