Page 21 of A Hard Fit

Finn considered the white canvas.

Curves of blush first, easy and rolling.

Then a wedge of ruby red. And another, and another, along the curves, a trail of desire.

Cedar brown, pools of warmth and understanding.

Finally black.

Long, sweeping lines. Smooth, graceful, from the bottom left corner, swirling up into delicate silver swoops.

The painting came to life in his dream that night, more beautiful than anything he could capture on canvas, surrounding him, cradling him, whispering, “Finn…”

A fire built in his chest, from simmer to inferno, an intense longing that stole his breath, and traveled lower, heating his belly, then lower still, thickening—

He woke up with a jolt, sweaty and rock hard. “Fuck,” he moaned when he saw it was not even five yet. There was no more sleeping to be had.

A cold shower helped, and since he was up so early, he decided to bike to work and expend some of the jittery energy crawling through his limbs.

The light shifted from night to dawn as he left his house, an inky black to a deep ocean blue, then orange and red over the horizon. The ride helped, letting him pull in deep breaths of cool air, his cells burning through the oxygen instead of his brain burning through thoughts.

When he got to the office, muscles blissfully rubbery, he unclipped his helmet and scrubbed a hand through his sweaty hair, then wheeled his bike inside. He secured it in the storage locker in the lobby, then clicked over to the elevator in his clip-in biking shoes.

“Good morning, Finn.” It was Rory, waiting for the elevator.

Finn swallowed, hard.Oh my God. I’m in my spandex. I look like such a dork.“Oh, hi. Morning.” Not just spandex, but sweaty and red-faced.

“How was your ride?” Rory asked. They, of course, looked perfect in an asymmetrical top and fitted black jeans topped with a studded leather belt.

“Good. Good ride.”

Rory bobbed their head. “That’s good. Do you ride often?”

“Not as often as I’d like.”

Rory’s eyes flicked up and down Finn’s body.

Such. A. Dork. “I know the gear isn’t especially flattering,” Finn mumbled, resisting the urge to tug at his shorts.

“What? Not at all. I was thinking how”—Rory cleared their throat—“um, fit you look. I mean, you’re…in really good shape.”

“I—”Fit. Mouth dry, he fumbled for his water bottle. “Thanks,” he croaked.

The elevator dinged and Finn’s mind swirled as they flowed in.

“I haven’t been on a bike in years,” Rory mused, watching the numbers above the door.

“I could take you for a ride sometime?” Finn offered before he knew what he was saying.

Rory’s smile bounced off the mirrored walls and lit up the tiny space. “I would love to go for a ride with you.”

“Great.”Holy shit.He let his mouth keep talking, seemingly independent from his brain. “Maybe this weekend? While the weather is still nice.”

Rory nodded. “That sounds like fun. I’m free Sunday?”

“Okay.”This is fine.“Yeah, me too. Sunday works. Do you have a bike?”

“I think so, if my parents still have it in the garage. Or I can borrow one from my brother, I’m sure.”

---