Page 131 of Scoring the Player
Coating.
Painting.
You in all of me.
Arnaz
“You’ll sing for me one day?” Salem asks, resting against my chest as we settle into the bath water.
I wasn’t feeling the glass walls surrounding the tub at first. But in the light, it’s all treetops and sky. After dark, it’s moon, and tonight, the gentle patter of rain.
He took the lead, kissing me, holding me, washing me, as we showered the mud off before climbing into the bath, and I clung to him.
One day, maybe at the end of my lifetime, I’ll know how to describe what I felt out there in the rain.
Free, alive, and happy all sound feeble.
I thought he’d made love to me on the hotel floor in San Francisco, so what was that tonight?
My eyes burn as I kiss the top of his head. “Yeah, I’ll sing for you.”
Salem
“What’s that?” I ask after returning with food.
He grins at the plates. “Breakfast at night?”
“It’s too late to make the paella.” I nod at the gift wrapped on his pillow. “This for me?”
“Yeah.”
I hand him the plates of French toast and omelets, then pick up the box.
He arches an eyebrow when I sniff it before peeling back the paper.
“It’s oil.” His voice shakes. “You know, versus acrylic.”
“Wow.” I take in the painting. “Is this really how I looked?”
“Powerful?” He nods. “I grabbed a still shot from the exact moment you came out. You were so calm. You even smiled. I’ll never forget it.”
“I was scared shitless.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I huff out a breath. “A hundred percent.”
“You know what happened the first time I watched it? I threw up. I don’t think I ever felt that brave.”
“How?” I lean in and brush a kiss against his forehead. “Your article?—”
“It’s not the same.”
“How?” I ask again, shaking my head. “You kicked open the door for all of us.”
“It took so much for me to get there.”
“You still got there.”
