Page 81 of Reluctantly You

“Thanks, but…I’m seeing a therapist.”

Magnus gasps, choking slightly and then lets out a laugh. “Oh my god. Good for you. I know it can’t be easy, not with how much it was drilled in us growing up to never talk about our feelings.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m proud of you, Mitch. You’re trying. That’s all anyone can really do.”

My cheeks are wet and I swipe at them.

“Yeah. It’s all I can do. For now.”

Messaging Max and Matt is not something I want to do right away. Part of me is scared they’ll reject me. I know I need to, eventually, but not right now.

Magnus said he’d keep this a secret. For now.

I unbutton the top two buttons of my white shirt and slip on my jacket, staring at myself in the mirror. Little Pants meows at me and I pick her up, pressing a soft kiss to her orange head.

“Apparently orange cats only have one brain cell. Is that you, Little Pants?”

She meows at me and claws at my jacket, obviously done being held. She just wants a treat. I move into the kitchen, rolling my jacket free of the hair she got on me as I go. I set a few treats on the ground, then glance at my reflection in the window.

“I’ll be back late,” I tell her, smoothing a hand through my neatly coifed hair. “Don’t make a mess of anything.”

She ignores me, her little cinnamon roll tail twitching in happiness. I grab my keys and stride out, feeling my heart flutter in anticipation.

Is this a date?

Fuck, I don’t know. I don’t want it to be. I don’t want anything of the sort.

And yet, the entire way to the art gallery, I feel my stomach flutter, pink and red butterflies taking flight inside of me.

When I finally make my way inside, my skin is warm and flushed, my eyes taking in the swirls of color all around me. It’s almost overwhelming, the hues, shades, and tints splashed across the walls. God, what would it be like to live in a place like this, open and honest?

What would it be like to create?

“You made it,” a familiar voice says beside me.

I swallow and turn my gaze to Gideon, who looks impeccable in his black suit and gray tie. He stands in stark contrast to the bright colors around us.

Of course he does. He’s always stood out. Even when I knew nothing but his name, he was a force to be reckoned with.

“I did,” I finally manage to say, my eyes peeling away from the tantalizing shade of his lips.

His hand trails along my arm and I can feel his touch all the way through my jacket.

“Come on. Rory is excited to talk your ear off about all of this.”

I eye him and his finger crooks against my own, pulling me forward.

We find Rory standing in front of an abstract painting of a woman in a field of flowers. His hair is braided once more, his body clad in a pale purple body suit, a belt cinched around his narrow waist. When his violet eyes meet mine, his lips move up into a soft grin.

“Hi, Mitch. Gideon said you were coming.” He moves toward me and reaches out, squeezing my arm. “He said you were a fan of art as well.”

“Yeah, something like that,” I say, shifting uneasily on my feet.

He sighs and then turns his gaze back to the canvas before us. “What do you think?”

What do I think? I don’t fucking know. It’s abstract, subjective. I just know that the colors seem to exude happiness and joy, warmth even.

---