Page 19 of You Were Mine

“Worse,” Brandon insists. “I still have nightmares aboutThe Canterbury Tales.”

Off the top of my head, I can’t think of anything particularly terrifying aboutThe Canterbury Tales, but I’ll take his word for it.

“You really should see the world at least once, though,” Brandon says, “As an art major, you’d love it. There’s so much in the world to see: the Parthenon in Greece, medieval churches in Paris, the stave-churches in Trondheim…”

“I know. I’ve taken a couple of art history classes in my day.”

“I suppose you have. You might even know more about it than me,” Brandon muses. “All the more reason to go.”

I’m sure I do, but I don’t say so. I shake my head.

“You know—I’ll be going to NYC come December. I think I’ll stay there for a while. There are great schools up there, too, if you want to try…us,” Brandon says with such a sweet smile.

Oh. It’s a generous offer;beyondgenerous. And I’m caught off-guard. Go to New York City and live with him? It soundsexciting. A new place, a fresh start. I have nothing that I would want to hide or forget here, but the thought of starting somewhere new with a blank canvas is exhilarating.

“I wouldn’t want to upset Logan, though,” I reply, as I mull over the offer.

“He’s not a cat, Mark. Logan can live on his own.”

Yeah, true that.

As Brandon gets up, he leans over and touches my chin. His lips passionately touch mine. Shivers of electricity run up and down my body.

“I can’t wait to see you at the gala,” Brandon whispers in my ear. And with that, he departs.

Chapter Eight

Mark

The day of the Halloween gala arrives more quickly than I expected. Even though I watched the calendar like a hawk, somehow, the day of the gala still catches me off-guard. I dress in my single blue suit and stare at myself in the mirror. Normally, I would think I look fine. I always think it brings out the blue in my eyes. At least, I’m wearing something besides a paint-stained shirt and blue jeans, but the thought of attending this gala, surrounded by people who have more money than I will ever see in my life, is intimidating; unless, of course, I happen to be the next Anish Kapoor, but I sincerely doubt that will happen.

I’m not enough of an ass to be Anish Kapoor.

I stride into the living room. Logan pours over his laptop. I hear typing, so he’s either working on his thesis or arguing with his racist uncle Patrick on Facebook. Considering the way Logan’s brow is furrowed in concentration, it’s probably thethesis. I pause and consider him in the dim light of the living room lamp.

It takes me a few seconds to really think of anything except for the fact that Logan’s Halloween costume this year is apparently sexy, gay Bob Ross. Wow! He totally rocks it, too. But to be fair, Logan would look good wearing a flour sack. Wait a minute, why am I thinking of Logan like this?

Logan loves me.He loves me.Logan…loves…me.

This doesn’t make sense. Or maybe I don’t make sense. I feel like I’m missing a crucial piece to some puzzle, because when I look at Logan, I think about Brandon. And I feel like there’s something more there, something all tangled up and confused. I like Logan, but I like Brandon, too. I like them both in different ways. But am Iin lovewith Brandon?

No. Maybe not. Brandon certainly is fine. That’s it. He’s incredibly smart supportive…and hot. He’s likely spontaneous, considering he just took the plunge to model nude—not to mention wanting to tour the world or live in NYC in December. But modeling nude—that’s ballsy, both figuratively and literally. Brandon probably checks off every single one of my boxes, but I’m just…not sure.

Maybe it’s because I suck at relationships. Maybe it’s too soon to tell.

“Are you sure you’re fine with me going out?” I finally ask.

Logan glances up from his computer. There’s something in his gaze that I can’t quite decipher, but when he looked at me in that moment, my breath caught in my throat. There’s something desirous in that look, and my face heats up when our eyes lock. “What do the two of you do when I’m not around?” Logan asks quietly.

“Couple stuff.”

“Couple stuff,” Logan repeats.

I know what he’s implying. Logan and I have stopped being friends withbenefitsever since Brandon asked me out. “I don’t think Brandon would really want to share,” I reply evenly.

“If I had you, I know I wouldn’t,” Logan says.

“Logan, I told Brandon how you feel about me.” I couldn’t hold it in anymore. He needed to know the truth. Maybe that would help him move on … maybe I could too.

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