Page 37 of Spring Breakup
“I’m talking to you about it, though.”
Dean blew out a heavy breath. “I’m as single as you and not exactly a glowing example of good communication.” Dean touched a lock of Tyler’s hair. He twisted it around his finger. “For me, it depends on who I’m with. If they want an open relationship, I’ll give that to them. If they want to fuck strangers together while on vacation, great.”
“And if they don’t want those things?”
“That’s okay too. I don’t have to have a Leo and Rosie arrangement if that’s not what works for the person I love, what works for our individual relationship.”
“Whoa. Dropping the L-word.”
“Leo?”
Tyler laughed at Dean’s silly joke. “Okay, next question.”
“Hit me. I’m enjoying the third degree. It’s sexy.” It was also against Tyler’s rules, but Dean wasn’t going to bring that to his attention. He wanted Tyler to break the rules.
“Why do you keep saying you’re not an artist?”
It was on the tip of Dean’s tongue to pull Tyler’s move and veto, but the conversation with Leo tugged at him.
Practice. He needed to practice.
“Nothing ever measures up to what I see in my head,” Dean said. It was hard to explain. “Artists like Leo make magic, but when I try, it’s flat.”Uninspired. That was what echoed in his head when he tried to create something beautiful. Uninspired and derivative. “I’m scared to try, maybe,” he admitted, which was flinging all his doors and shutters wide fucking open. “It’s easier to draw models in class. Less intense when there’s separation there.”
“I saw your sketches yesterday. Of my hands. My legs. They were so realistic. I can’t draw anything but stick figures.”
“I can draw form easily, and I could teach you. I’m a good teacher.”
“Those who can’t do, teach?” Tyler said, a smile in his voice.
Dean let his lips drift over Tyler’s temple. “Exactly.”
“I think you’re too hard on yourself. Maybe you just don’t see yourself—your art—clearly.”
“Maybe.”
“Orone day the right inspiration will come along, and it’ll gobsmack you,” Tyler said, which felt too close to truth for comfort. “You’ll see a piglet dressed as a ladybug and have an epiphany. You’ll become famous for drawing farm animals in costumes. The Anne Geddes of pigs.”
“So my muse in that scenario would be pigs?”
“In costume! Piglets probably. They’re cuter.”
God, Dean loved the silly side of Tyler. His carefree laugh. His rapid-fire retorts. “I bet someone has already cornered that market.”
“Bummer.”
Dean hummed as if it truly were a bummer and let the topic pass on by. Tyler traced a line down Dean’s abdomen, seemingly lost in thought or at least not sharing them.
After several minutes, Tyler said, “My brain and body aren’t always in sync.” It was an unusual echo to Dean’s admission about his art. “My body will be full steam ahead, but my brain is off on a tangent, thinking about climate change or famous women authors or whatever. I can go through the motions, and it feels nice, but it doesn’t feel as good as I want it to because my head is a mess. Does that make sense?”
Dean lifted Tyler’s chin. “It does. It’s better when your mind is engaged in the intimacy too.” Tyler’s return to the vetoed subject was exhilarating. Was that the push and pull of being open with someone? They were open in return?
Tyler smiled wryly. “That’s true. But it’s less intense when there’s separation there. Between my brain and sex.”
“It can be scary when those walls come down, huh?” Dean said.
“Yeah. I’m not sure if it’s worth it. The exposure.”
Dean rubbed his thumb over Tyler’s eyebrow. It was slightly unruly, the blond hair poking up in the middle rather than lying flat. “We can practice.”
