Wood (A True Lover's Story #2) - A.E. Via Page 0,24

anyone.

“Doesn’t smell that way.”

“I happen to prefer a little char on my meat,” Trent muttered. “Thank you.”

“Since when?” Bishop laughed and waved at Wood on his way to the bathroom.

“Still smells good to me,” Wood said close to Trent’s ear.

“What are you doing?” Trent whispered.

“Anything you want me to do.”

Wood gave Trent some room to breathe right before Bishop came out and joined them. What the hell was he doing? That was a damn good question. Wood took mercy on his roommate and went to put on a shirt before it was time to eat.

“I just thought I’d stop by and make sure you guys hadn’t killed each other.” Bishop dropped down in the dining chair, glancing between them. “How’s it going?”

“Peachy,” Trent answered first.

“Roses,” Wood agreed.

Bishop laughed. “Whatever damage y’all do in here, you’re responsible.”

They ate their sausage like hot dogs, wrapped in a single slice of bread with mustard and ketchup, and plain potato chips. The conversation was mostly dominated by Bishop as he desperately tried to discuss subjects they could all engage in, but Trent sat rigid in his chair with his mouth sealed tight, appearing lost in his own thoughts.

“Wood. Did you finish the sketch for me?” Bishop asked.

“Sure did.” Wood wiped his hands on his pants and reached for his sketch pad. “Take a look.”

“Hell yeah.” Bishop smiled as he scanned the drawing of a tattoo he wanted Wood to do for him. “This represents Eddie perfectly. Oh man, Wood. The camellias are perfect. What’d you say they mean in the art world?”

“Means ‘you’re the flame of my heart.’” Wood made sure not to glance at Trent though he could feel his roommate’s sharp eyes on the side of his face.

“He’s gonna go crazy.” Bishop beamed, still focused on the pad. “When do you think you can do it? Did you get your equipment yet?”

“Not yet,” Wood said somberly. “I’ll let you know when I do.”

“You’re getting a tattoo?” Trent asked abruptly.

“Yeah.” Bishop frowned. “I told you I always wanted one, T, but I didn’t wanna get it in prison for shit’s sake. I wanted something good, done by a professional. And it doesn’t get any better than this man right here.”

Trent eyes went to Bishop’s hand gripping Wood’s shoulder. “No, I didn’t know that.”

“Seriously. Have you seen his ink?”

“You can say that.”

“What about his drawings?”

“Oh those are none of my damn business.” Trent smirked and Wood tossed him a subtle wink that made his cheeks flush red.

“You should take a look. He’s the best, Trent,” Bishop praised.

Wood could appreciate what Bishop was doing, but he didn’t need his friend to make him sound good. If Trent couldn’t see him for him, then he wouldn’t bother. Trent didn’t need to know that Wood had once had a promising future; he’d once had a shop that’d stayed overbooked for months… before he blew it. He wasn’t that man anymore, and he didn’t need Trent wondering where that guy went.

“Well, Wood’s signature is his flowers, so I’m getting one to represent the love of my life.” Bishop cocked his head, his expression suddenly curious. “Is that a problem?”

“Of course not.” Trent got up without another word and put his dishes in the sink, then closed himself inside his bedroom.

They both stared down the empty hallway for a moment, neither of them speaking. Bishop eventually stood and cleaned up his dishes, telling Wood he wanted to get home in time for Edison to read to him. Bishop slung on his heavy coat, and Wood walked him to the door so he could lock up after him.

Bishop faced him and asked, “If you had to, which one of your flowers would you tattoo on Trent?”

“A cactus,” Wood said without thought.

Bishop laughed and told him to hang in there. Wood nodded and gave his friend a one-armed hug before he left. He hadn’t meant what he’d suggested to sound like an insult. The cactus was one of the strongest, most durable plants in the world. And it was Wood’s favorite. A living thing so miraculous that it could grow into something mighty… with very little nurturing.

Chapter Thirteen

The next week went by much like the last as Trent tried to avoid Wood and his relentless seducing as much as possible in their close quarters. Most of the time he came in from work hurried and showered, ate his dinner, then locked himself in his bedroom the rest of the night. But it was starting to get old, and he preferred not