Page 41 of Illicit Illustration

Fourteen: Fine. I’ll behave.

Seven: We both know that isn’t true.

Fourteen: I think you secretly like me feisty.

Seven: Not a secret.

Fourteen: Have you told anyone else about these workshops? I bet there are lots of people (me included) who would love to help you start some kind of summer program for kids like that.

Seven: No. It’s just an idea at this point.

Fourteen: You haven’t told anyone but me?!? What about your friends? I’m sure they’d help where they could if they knew how much you wanted to make this happen.

Seven: No. My best friend probably wouldn’t get it. He never had any doubts about his future likeI did as a kid. His family was fully on board with what he wanted to do, and his parents helped him through school.

Which was something I never held against Hudson. He’d been tagging along to spend time at the bar—learning the ropes from his dad—since we were kids. Then, once he was old enough to work there, he’d jumped right in and never even considered doing something else with his life.

He’d also had parents who could afford to send him to college to hone his skills in restaurant management. So, while I’d taken the long route to making my dreams come true, he’d had a level of privilege I’d always been a little envious of. But his family had never judged me for taking a different route. His dad had even worked with me to develop a business plan when I’d been trying to get the loan to open my shop after I’d moved back to Sage Springs.

Fourteen: My parents were supportive like that too. They never tried to convince me to do anything else once I told them I wanted to be an illustrator. But it probably helped I had scholarships to subsidize school, and that my brother gave me a job when I graduated, so I didn’t have to be a starving artist while I figured things out.

Seven: My parents were supportive. I don’t want you to think they weren’t, and they helped where they could. But I know some kids aren’t so lucky.

Fourteen: And you want to be that person for them?

This was why I was falling so hard for her, because no matter who I was when we talked, she seemed to get it. Getme. And she didn’t judge.

Hudson meant well. He’d always been there when I needed him, and I never doubted for a second he had my back. But sometimes I felt like he used my recreational activities as a justification that I couldn’t take things seriously.

I knew he’d use the same lens to judge my feelings for Hazel. He wouldn’t look at the fact I adored her for who she was. Everypart of her, even the ones she hid from her brother. He’d focus on how adamant I’d once been that I didn’t want to be in a committed relationship. But I’d always told him, if I found the right person, I’d do it in a heartbeat. I just hadn’t realized that the right person had been literally hiding under my nose for years. Only she hadn’t been ready yet. And neither had I.

But I was ready now. And there was a very real possibility she was going to hate me in a week when I walked into that reveal and told her I loved her. But I was still going to try.

Fourteen: To answer your question, I guess you could say I’m doing what I always wanted to do right now.

Seven: How so?

Fourteen: I’m creating art on my own terms.

Seven: With your commissions?

Fourteen: Yeah. I know my family wouldn’t understand what I’ve been doing. But I really enjoy it. Bringing these characters to life. I know I’m not writing the books, or planning the scenes, but I feel like I’m breathing life into these author’s creations.

Seven: I said it before, and I’ll say it again. You’re insanely talented. And even if you were drawing less racy things, I’d still think your determination was sexy as hell.

Fourteen: I know you can’t see it, but you’re making me blush.

Seven: I want to tell you to take a picture. Even though I know I shouldn’t and it’s breaking the rules, it’s killing me not to see it.

She didn’t respond right away, but I watched the little dots dancing on the screen with rapt attention until I had to put my phone down because I was having dangerous thoughts of using my keys to go back over there.

After ten minutes of staring at the television across the room that I wasn’t really watching, my phone pinged.

The image waiting for me almost made me blow my cover and follow through with my fleeting thoughts to throw everything out the window and confess who I really was to her tonight.

She was laying against her pillows, a hint of cleavage peeking above the neckline of her white tank top. Her red hair fanned out around her on the pillowcase and an enticing pink blush splashed her cheeks and traveled down the side of her neck. A peek of pink mesh panties, just barely visible at the bottom of the frame, made my arousal from earlier roar back to life.

Seven: You’re making it very difficult to be a good boy and stay away from you.

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