known what to expect, but Beau could dance. Like really dance. I mean, sure, he stumbled a little bit at first, but I was fairly certain that was more from the fact that I'd surprised him with my enthusiasm than anything else.

To be honest, I was surprising myself.

But something about this night made me want to let go. Beau was infectious—his happiness and smile and charm. I wanted to bottle up the way he made me feel so I could take it with me when the clock struck twelve.

I shouldn't let myself indulge. That annoying, nagging thought was very clear in the back of my mind, judging me for letting my guard down. But all I wanted was one night. One night without thinking about Denver or the lawsuit or any of that shit. One night when I could just live.

So when I blinked up to find Beau watching me with a dark, intense gaze, I encouraged it. All of it.

"Fuck," he muttered, his eyes lowering to my mouth. Lingering there. "I really want to kiss you. Like mega-super-definitely want to kiss you. Like—"

I shut him up by crashing my lips to his.

—

Two cups of coffee sat on the kitchen counter the next morning when I made my sleepy exit out of my bedroom. The floorboards creaked with a familiar tune as I shuffled into the kitchen, but Beau must not have heard me because he remained bent over by the front door to the apartment, muttering to himself.

"Everything good over there?"

At the sound of my voice, Beau jumped up, spinning around with a guilty expression that had me walking closer. He backed away, hiding something behind him, which fell with a thud a moment later. It was one of my shoes.

Ignoring it, Beau walked nonchalantly to perch on the kitchen island before pushing an extra steaming cup toward me, clearing his throat. Despite that, his voice came out raspy. Throaty. "Everything is great."

"Uh-huh." Chewing on my lip, I let him squirm under my stare for a moment. "And what were you doing with my running shoes?"

"Just, uh—" Beau scratched his head, which was sprouting adorably messy hair this morning. "Making sure there aren't any other tripping hazards around. Don't want you spilling all your colored pencils again." He pointed at my cup. "Or your coffee."

I didn't believe him for a second, but I let it go with a nod and shifted my attention to the coffee. It was warm and delicious-smelling as I picked it up to take a sip. "Second morning in a row that you beat me to making a pot."

Beau shrugged. "Wasn't sure when you wanted to get started with the whole...drawing thing. I don't know jack shit about what makes good lighting."

"Oh, I'm sorry." I wrapped both hands around the mug, which I recognized as one of his. It was covered in dogs, all wearing different hats. "I should have clarified, so you didn't miss out on an opportunity for sleep."

"I don't mind."

No, of course, he didn't. This was Beau. And Beau thrived on doing things for other people, even if they were girls who rejected him. He was a good person, and I owed him...a lot.

So that was what I said.

"I owe you. For this. For everything."

"No, you don't." Beau crossed the kitchen to refill his coffee. "I told you, remember? You're one of my people now, and you don't let your people down." He raised his brows meaningfully, looking at me over his mug. "And you don't hold shit over their head, either. You don't owe me a damn thing."

"Fine, but what if I wanted to repay you?"

"I suppose I'll consider it." A short pause. "Depending on how you intend to do it."

Maybe I was wrong; perhaps it wasn't a good idea for Beau and me to spend more time together. Because was it just me, or did his voice dip a little bit when he said that last part? It was hard to tell, but the words were definitely conjuring up images in my head of the ways I could...repay him.

My mouth ran dry.

"I'll think about it," I finally choked out, hoping he didn't realize how long it took me to reply.

But he did. His eyes were watching me closely, flicking all over my face while his settled into something akin to confusion. And then suddenly, all of that was gone. And in its place was the unflappable man who I'd met that night at the gala.

"So, shall we get started?" Beau clapped his hands together, and I couldn't tell if his enthusiasm was fake or not. "I supposed I should have asked what kind of modeling this was going to be, huh?" He pondered on that for a second. "I'm just going to put it out there that if you want me to get naked, we should probably turn the temperature up in this place a few degrees."

I nearly spit out my coffee.

Beau grinned.

****

His bedroom was almost exactly as I imagined it would be and could only be described as gadgety, organized, and sleek. With how different it was from the rest of the apartment, walking inside the four walls of Beau's domain could only be compared with going through the wardrobe into Narnia. Except that instead of a snowy forest, I strode into a bedroom that looked like it belonged to the CEO of Stark Enterprises or something.

After taking in his gaming set-up, room-darkening shades, and monochrome king-sized sheet set, I spun around to face him.

"Do you know Iron Man?"

With his hand on a remote control, he froze.

"You've....seen Endgame, right? Bro is...you know."

He was missing the point.

"I'm just saying. Your room feels very lair-y."

"Lair-y?"

"Yes, like that remote control is going to pop open to reveal your secret stash of weapons." I lowered my voice, watching as Beau's lips twisted up. "Blink three times right now if you're secretly Spider-Man."

Beau leveled his eyes with mine and then stared at me. Without blinking.

Damnit.

But then he whispered, "Spider-Man doesn't carry weapons. Try again."

Another superhero name was on the tip of my tongue when Beau pressed his finger down on the remote button, and the blinds began to rise, breaking through the hushed moment with the sound of slow-grinding levers. I couldn't help but laugh.

Of course. Of course he had electronic curtains.

He smiled before reaching out to grab the box of pencils from me, setting them down on his bed, probably worried I would drop them again.

"So Collins Bryant is into action movies, huh?"

I lifted a shoulder. "Just the good ones."

I could tell by the look in his eye that he wanted to ask me more, to ask me to elaborate on that—which I gladly would have done, because movies were one of the things that kept me alive when everything around me was shit—but he cleared his throat instead.

We were back to business.

Soon I had him in position. Soft morning light hit his face as he leaned against the exposed brick on his bedroom wall. He had on a black t-shirt, jeans, socks—the simplest outfit for the most complex man.

I was used to putting together people's puzzle pieces. In a way, it was my job when I was at Directions. But even before that, when I was a teenager, I would try to figure people out. People like Bren, who would feed me bits of their story one scene at a time until I finally understood them.

Beau wasn't like Bren, though. He was way more mysterious to me. And it all stemmed from the fact that he seemed so open. So genuine. But there was more, and he didn't want anyone to see it.

Putting my H pencil to the paper, I began drawing, eyes flicking between my hand and Beau's face. Relaxation was evident in his pose, and at the moment, I wished I was a photographer so I could capture this scene with a simple click.

"Are you sure you've never modeled before?" When he started to shake his head, I tensed up. "Don't move!"

A husky chuckle reached my ears, and I shooed away the shivers it caused. "My bad. And yes, I'm sure."

"You seem practiced at this."

"At what? Just standing here?"

"Models everywhere are going to be mad about that statement when I release it to the press."

His lips twitched, and I could tell he was trying to keep his face relaxed for my sake.

"You know, Collins." His voice drawled a little, making my lips twitch with the way he said my name. "Just because someone looks relaxed doesn't always mean they are."

My hand froze in the middle of a pencil stroke. Above my pad of paper, my eyes met his.

"I know," I said, my throat scratchy. "I know that."

"You needed a model, so I became a model. Simple as that."

Simple, huh? Nothing about this was simple.

The air fizzled with electricity, probably humming from all of his gadgets and gizmos. Definitely didn't have anything to do with us.

Although it definitely felt like we were treading a fine line right now. I didn't know how to explain how I knew that, just that I did. It wasn't in the words we were saying; it was the moment itself.

To distract us—or maybe it was just me—I tried to tease. "Oh? And what else can you snap your fingers and become?"

But Beau didn't laugh. He stared straight out the window and murmured, "Whatever you need."

My heart worked its way from my chest to my throat, and I had to swallow hard to keep it from coming out of my mouth. My brain, on the other hand, was trying desperately to hold onto some sort of logic.

This was Beau. He would say that to any of his friends. And he was only saying it to me because he felt like he had to. It was that silly obligation part of his brain again, and it had nothing to do with me.

Silence flooded the room. It lingered between the sunlight and beneath his perfectly made, matte-black bedspread. It stretched in the wide space from Beau to me, the one that suddenly seemed really small. And when it became unbearable, I grabbed my phone to turn on some quiet music, trying to dull the awkwardness. The tension.

It didn't work.

It was hard to quell anything when my eyes were glued to his face, discovering every little line of it. The angle of his cheekbone. The slight slope of his nose. The perfect shape of his eyebrows. The set of his lips, the same ones that had kissed me before, had kissed me everywhere. I had to memorize it all. Put it on paper.

He was such an unfairly attractive human.

I wasn't sure how much time passed when I noticed Beau beginning to grow irritated. His jaw was tenser, his hands fidgeted. Maybe it was because I was ogling him. Maybe it was because the lack of sleep finally caught up with him. Maybe I needed to draw faster.

His chest rose and fell in quicker breaths. In an instant, my brain started to race around, collecting memories of Beau's short, rough gasps, his exhausted pants, his groans—

"Fuck, it's hot in here."

I gulped. Yes, it was.

Only, as I glanced up, I realized that Beau was speaking literally.

The sun beat through the window now in sheets of blinding light, and he was standing directly in line to get blasted with it. He lifted a hand, pulling his shirt away from his chest and shaking it a bit, trying to cool himself.

"Tell me again why we decided on a black shirt?" he asked without breaking from his pose.

"I'm sorry," I groaned. "I didn't think it would take this long. I'm just a little—"

Distracted.

I straightened, squaring my shoulders as I faced my drawing head-on. "I'll finish up soon. I'm almost done."

Beau's voice was soft when he spoke again. "It's fine, Collins. I'm not in a rush."

"Your brow is sweating," I said flatly, not sure how I hadn't realized it before.

"Look, if I am going to make it in the model industry, I need to start working on my endurance. Don't you think?"

He winked, telling me he wasn't upset. At least not about this.

"Sure," I said, breathless.

But when Beau wiped his forehead, I blurted out, "You can take off your shirt if you need to." When he stilled, I added, "I'm working on your hair, so... don't really need a shirt for that."

Beau chuckled. "I suppose you don't. Is it gonna mess you up if I move to take it off?"

I shook my head before I realized he couldn't see me. "No. No, it isn't."

He nodded, and then Beau's shirt fell to the floor.

Of all the terrible ideas that I had ever had, this was likely the worst.

I already knew that Beau without a shirt on did things to my pulse, so why did I think I would be able to draw in a state like this? And if that wasn't bad enough, I must have made some sort of sound, some sort of emotionally distraught noise, because Beau turned his head and looked straight at me for the first time since I'd positioned him this morning.

He winced, lifting a hand to massage his neck, but then he stopped.

Our eyes met, and my breath went whoosh out of my body. His gaze roamed my face as though he couldn't believe what he saw there. But then, as he realized what was happening, that I was boldly checking him out, something simmered in the air. It festered. It bubbled up, and I didn't know how to stop it. Didn't know if I wanted to.

The last time he'd caught me staring at him, he seemed to be oblivious. Not this time. I felt heat rise into my cheeks, overwhelming me.

"Collins."

That was all he said. Just my name, nothing else. His voice was deep and just a little bit rough. It brushed against my skin like the kind of soft caress that also raised goosebumps on arms. Heat pooled in the pit of my stomach, and there was no denying that I was aroused just by looking at him and thinking, remembering things I shouldn't. Just by him looking at me.

I didn't know what to say. I had no excuse. I mean, sure, I was supposed to be looking at him. But we both knew that I wasn't supposed to be looking at him like this. And the longer I went without breathing a word in reply, the stormier Beau's expression grew. Tension drew itself in taut lines across his face, his chest. His veins rippled up his arms as he clenched his fists. Even his stomach flexed, sending tiny ripples across his tattoo.

Oh my god, Collins. Say something. Or at least stop staring at him like a goddamn predator.

My mouth opened, but I had no clue what to say. And then Beau beat me to the punch.

"I think we should be done now," he said.

In other words: leave.

None of the sunshine that dripped down his body could be found in the tone of his voice. It snapped me out of whatever trance I was in.

"Okay." Quickly gathering up all my things, I nearly stumbled over myself on the way out of his bedroom. "Yeah, okay. I'm..." I bit down on my lip, fighting the strangest urge to cry. Oh goddamnit. What was wrong with me? "I'm sorry, Beau."

And with that, I raced back to my room and slammed the door.

💗

well, what do we think about that? 👀

I had fun writing this chapter.

hope you had fun reading!

xoxo

speaking of spider-man....this is basically them rn.