by A. D. Ellis
Caroline frowned. “Why would a fledgling relationship that was possibly beginning to be more than just sex have to be over?”
“Benji is an artist.” I waved a hand dismissively.
She raised a brow and waited.
“We work in some similar mediums, but our pieces are almost as different as you can get.” I took a drink of my tea and savored the rich flavor. I worked in mostly assemblage art, and metal and wood sculpture. I dabbled in painting here and there. Benji worked with clay and various ceramics to create vases, cups, pots, decorative pieces, and jewelry. He also painted abstract art and landscapes.
“And you can only be with another artist if they make the exact same art as you?” Caroline posed the question innocently, but I knew she was digging in to make a point.
“No, but this building was to be my studio, my place to sell my work. Now I have to split the studio space, compete for customers, hope I sell as well as Benji.” My brows drew together as I took another drink of tea.
“Ah, yes. Quite a dilemma.” Caroline nodded, slightly raised one brow, and hid a smile behind her tea cup.
My anger flared as my sister humored me. She clearly thought I was being ridiculous. She just wasn’t getting it.
“Benji is so much like me in a lot of ways. We’re passionate, creative, driven. He’s as determined, competitive, and stubborn as I am.” I shook my head. “Some of those similarities are great, some aren’t so great. But we’re very different too. He dresses in sleek, casual style. Lots of black. I’m like the quintessential hipster.” I didn’t know why it seemed important to point out how similar and different we were, as if it would explain why I was worked into such a tizz.
Caroline finished her tea. “So, you like this guy. The sex is great. You’ve got things in common, yet plenty of differences as well.”
I nodded, feeling glum.
“And it won’t work, why?” My sister crunched her face.
“Great sex and similarities aren’t the most solid base for a business relationship we’re being forced into.” Seriously, how was she not seeing this?
“Maybe give yourselves some time to settle in at the new business setup? Then revisit the relationship?”
“He’s going to teach art too! How will I compete with that?” I nearly knocked over my cup with a wild gesture.
“Does it have to be a competition?” Caroline trailed her finger in a circular motion on the pillow she held.
I started to snap back, but found myself opening and closing my mouth. “I guess it doesn’t have to be a competition, but I don’t really see how it won’t be.”
“If you let it.” Caroline raised a brow.
“You’ve known me my whole life. When have I ever been laid back and not been competitive over my work?” I didn’t even try to stop the eye roll. We were talking about me. I wasn’t the easiest person to get along with.
“Valid point.” She pulled a blanket over her lap. “But I also know you’ve never really talked about a great sexual partner and possible connected relationship before. You’re usually booting them out at the exact moment a slight imperfection is noticed.”
I sighed. “Yeah, up until this building screwup, I was thinking Benji may have been a possible candidate for a real relationship.” I hugged a pillow to my chest. “I was really letting myself get my hopes up.” My heart squeezed as I whispered the words.
“Nobody, and no relationship, is perfect.” Caroline nudged me with her foot.
“I just want what Mom and Dad had.” My eyes stung. My parents had passed away when I was a pre-teen, but I still recalled how much in love and happy they were. It’s what I wanted, what I dreamed of, what I measured every possible relationship by.
“Rhys Alexander Golden,” Caroline scolded good-naturedly, “I’ve told you time and time again that you’ve got selective memory about Mom and Dad. You were likely too young to pick up on their imperfections, but I promise they were there. No person is perfect. No relationship is perfect. Don’t throw away someone who makes you happy because you’re afraid you guys might not be able to work well together.”
“That’s the other part of the problem. My creativity was going great until the building issue and now my head and heart act as if I’ve never created a piece of art in my life.” I threw my head back against the fluffy couch. “The trifecta of issues bringing me drama and gloom kinda suck.”
Caroline was quiet for a bit. “Maybe you’re bringing some of the drama and gloom on yourself?”
I clenched my teeth. I was not in the mood for a lecture.
“I’m just saying,” she held up her hand to fend off my protests, “give it all some time. Work with Benji to get your business set up. Maybe sharing the building will work out better than either of you could even imagine.” She bit back a smirk when I scoffed. “Give your art some time to ramp back up. You’ve always ebbed and flowed through your work.” She leaned forward and patted my leg. “And don’t push Benji away. You’ve got a sparkle in your eyes despite the gloom, and I have a feeling he’s the one who put that gleam there. Don’t count out a relationship with him.”
I huffed and rolled my eyes. Sometimes she just didn’t get me at all, and she definitely wasn’t getting this situation. It was all too much. I needed to focus on my art and the business, I didn’t have the energy or time to put effort into a relationship that would never live up to my idea of perfect. I stood. “Thanks for the tea and talk. I’m going to the basement to work. I’ll start moving stuff out over the next few days.”
For the next two hours, I threw myself into an assemblage piece consisting of gears, pulleys, springs, and rulers. It was a large piece that I hoped to finish soon. I planned to have several large and small pieces along with my metal and wood sculptures displayed and on sale at my new studio.
My new studio?
No.
Fuck.
Our new studio.
Was I being selfish and bratty? Yes. I could admit that. But, damn it, I wanted that building to myself. I had worked hard to open my own studio and sales floor. I didn’t want to share.
I sighed and finished the piece. I loaded up three boxes of supplies and small pieces in my car. I’d start moving into the building tomorrow.
As I drove to my apartment, I thought of Benji. Thoughts of his gorgeous body, his quiet humor, his good heart all bombarded me. For a brief moment, I allowed myself to call to mind the way his skin felt under my hand, the heat of his body on mine, the catch in his breathing and the whimpers he made as I fucked him. I squeezed my eyes shut. No, I needed to forget all of that and focus only on my art and the studio.
3
Benji
I planned to arrive at the building early so I could get the key from Kris and be inside before Rhys. Clearly, great minds think alike because as I walked toward the building, I recognized Rhys’s form leaning against the front window.
He was so fucking beautiful it nearly took my breath away.
I was dressed in my usual black, fitted shirt, dark jeans, and a pair of dark fashion sneakers. Nothing special. Rhys would claim he wasn’t dressed to impress, and he likely wasn’t, but his cuffed dark jeans with a peek of green socks, gray leopard spotted canvas shoes, light gray V-neck t-shirt, and brushed silk floral jacket all paired with dark aviator sunglasses—he’d obviously opted for his contacts instead of the dark-rimmed glasses he sometimes wore—not only looked effortlessly pieced together, but also invited my eyes to drink him in and my heart to pound. So damn gorgeous.
I knew under those jeans were strong, pale legs carpeted with light strawberry blonde hair. I remembered the width of his chest, the heat of his arms around me, the press of his dick against my ass, and the sting his stubble left on my thighs, my neck, my chin. I wanted to grab his hand and drag him back to my bedroom, fall into bed, open my body for him, and forget all the mess having to do with the building.
But no. I couldn’t do that. I’d worked for too hard and too long to get my own
business, my own studio, my own space. Being a twin meant that very little was ever mine. Bode was my best friend, a part of me I’d never give up—would die if I lost him—but he was also the twin who got more attention. Whether because his big personality demanded it or because his school issues growing up necessitated it. I didn’t hold it against him, it just helped to explain my deep desire to have something that was all me. All mine. All Benji.
And now I had to share it with Rhys.
I wanted to share my body with Rhys. Share a dinner. Share a movie date. But I didn’t want to share my building.
I needed to work on my phrasing. It wasn’t my building. It was our building. I hated the way it sounded. Things had always been ours when I was growing up. I sighed deeply. Fighting with the man and throwing a tantrum wasn’t going to change our situation. I put a smile on my face, pushed down my sour feelings over sharing, dismissed the way my skin longed to recall the heat of Rhys’s body against mine, and held my hand out.
“Morning. Ready to do this?” I asked with a lot more positivity and friendliness than I was truly feeling. Fake it ‘til you make it, I guess.
Rhys glared at me. Well, I assumed he was glaring behind his mirrored sunglasses, but he shook my hand. “Morning. Yeah, let’s get started.”
I ignored the heat of his touch and the images of his hands all over my body. Kris and Kristy had agreed Kris would drop the keys to us this morning and I recognized her car pulling up at that moment. After a few pleasantries were exchanged, Rhys and I were left standing in front of our new building with our keys. As much as I wanted to do the honors of unlocking and entering my place, I pocketed my key and gestured toward the door. It didn’t seem as special now that we both had keys.
Rhys pressed his lips together and nodded as he slid the key in the lock and pushed the door open. “I unloaded some boxes at the back door.” He slipped his key onto a key ring. “I’m going to get those carried in.”
“Yeah, I’ll get my first round unloaded as well. Best to use the backdoor I think. Try not to clog up the front sidewalk and don’t want unwanted interest just yet. Once everything is inside and we can lock up, we can start making our presence known a bit more.” I pulled my phone from my pocket and texted Bode. He’d agreed to deliver my things with his truck before he and Sage had a morning date.
An hour later, Rhys and I stood among a large number of boxes near the backdoor. We both had our hands on our hips and I’m sure the look on Rhys’s face mirrored mine in silently saying where the fuck do we start?
“Well, let’s take a look at the upstairs area first and see how we want to split that up. Then we can figure out the studio space.” I waved my arm toward the stairs and followed up behind Rhys. I did my best not to stare at his amazing ass, but it was a losing battle.
“I really like the area up here.” Rhys glanced around the upstairs space.
It was well-suited as a living space, although neither of us were planning to live there full-time. The area needed a lot of work if it was going to be sold as a livable space, but it was workable for sure.
“I like that we can keep food in the pantry and fridge, wash dishes, cook. None of the appliances are top-of-the-line, but they are all functional.” I turned the knobs on the oven and opened the refrigerator as Rhys turned on the water.
“Yeah. Was thinking of moving a couch and bed up here. Have a place to rest or sleep if needed. Kinda a home away from home?” Rhys crossed his arms over his chest as if daring me to disagree.
I didn’t take the bait. It was a good idea. “I’ve got a couch in storage. You have a bed?”
Rhys nodded. “Bed and a chaise lounge. It’s ugly as hell, but it’s sturdy and comfortable.”
My traitorous mind automatically imagined Rhys bending me over his ugly but sturdy chaise lounge and I coughed to cover it up. I needed to get it through to my head and my dick that what Rhys and I had was over. Had to be.
Right?
I cleared my throat. “There’s a bathroom downstairs we can use and keep looking nice for customer use, but this one up here can be more functional for showers and what-not.” Just over a week ago, I would have been thinking about using this upstairs space as a little private getaway for Rhys and me. I imagined bringing Rhys to my studio, things getting hot between us as we played out our own little Ghost pottery wheel scene, retreating upstairs for a sexy shower and then falling into bed where we fucked each other’s brains out all night.
Instead, I shook the vision from my head and sniffed. “We can each grab some soap and shampoo for up here. Keep extras of whatever toiletries we might want or need.” I headed toward the stairs. “Let’s take a look at the studio space.”
The building was set up perfectly for our display floor to span the entire front of the structure with one-third or more of the back being open for our studio space.
We stood at the backdoor and surveyed the area.
“What are your thoughts? I’m thinking our options are one huge studio with a shared storage space and we both have our own little area to work, or divide the space into two halves and each take half. Store our own materials on our own side.” I could honestly see pros and cons to both options.
“Well, splitting it in half and having our own sides would offer more privacy. Maybe put up a wall?” Rhys frowned, his arms crossed over his chest.
I narrowed my eyes. “Yeah, I guess I can see that. But we’d lose some space if we went that route.” I ran a hand over the back of my neck. “Could set up our main areas at angles where we’d have some privacy. I know I don’t like anyone breathing over my shoulder while I work.”
“Yeah, keep things private, don’t have to worry about originality and stuff.”
My eyes grew wide. “You think I’m going to copy your work?” I barked out a humorless laugh. “That’s rich.” I folded my arms over my chest. “I can assure you that I neither want to nor need to copy from you. I’ve seen your work. You’ve seen mine. We have very different talents and skills and eyes for beauty. Your designs are as safe from me as I would assume my designs are safe from you.” I shook my head and scoffed. “You’re fucking serious right now, aren’t you?”
Rhys’s nostrils flared and his jaw clenched. “You saying my work isn’t worth your time? I’m so far beneath you that you wouldn’t even consider copying me?”
I laughed and bent at the waist to put my hands on my knees. “Holy shitballs, man. You are fucking something else right now, you know that? First, I don’t copy. I have my own ideas. Even if you and I were to interpret a theme, we’d both create something completely different. Equally good, but different. Second, you really need to work on your confidence. You’re an amazing artist. Period. Believe that.”
Rhys fumed quietly for a moment before taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I get competitive and I worry my work won’t hold its own against yours. Like what if your stuff sells and mine doesn’t? Plus, you’ll be making money with the lessons you’re going to give.” He would have given a petulant child a run for their money with his pouting.
“Man, you gotta stop with that shit. You’ve got a fantastic eye and you make seriously awesome pieces. Your clientele likely won’t be the same as mine, but there are plenty of buyers for both of us. I’ll likely get more of the casual shoppers who are looking for a decorative piece, a gift, some jewelry, maybe a landscape for their living room.” I moved closer to him, feeling shocked that Rhys needed to hear that his work was good enough; the man was beyond talented and I’d never realized he doubted that. “You’ll probably get the bigger art collectors, the more serious art connoisseurs, the people looking to drop big bucks on what they consider more professional pieces. A customer buying a vase for their table or a pair of earrings or an ocean scene isn’t the same buyer as someone looking for a large-scale sculpture or assemblage piece. The only medium we kinda share is paint, but even then, yours is more large-scale while mine is more wall-hanging size.” I understood doubting your work, all creative
s did at one time or another, but I was confident and comfortable with my work for the most part. Rhys’s doubts about his explained a lot.
My hand brushed against his and my breath hitched. If Rhys moved even slightly, I’d take it as a sign to hold his hand. But he didn’t. He stared at me for several moments as if he wanted to say something, wanted to do something, but he shook his head and turned away.
“Yeah, so I guess we need to know where you’re teaching before we can decide on studio space.” He rested his hands on his hips. “Doesn’t seem fair you’d get half the studio and a teaching area.” The sullen child hadn’t fully taken his leave just yet.
I gaped. Wow. I’d thought I was self-absorbed, but Rhys was definitely surpassing me right then. “I planned to use that small office/kitchen space for lessons.”
“Oh, so we lose an office and kitchen so you can teach?”
“Jesus, man. Would you listen to yourself? What are you, thirteen? You’re acting like a sniveling brat.” I braced both hands behind my head.
Rhys winced. “Sorry. I had big plans for this place and I’m having to rethink everything now. I’m not purposely being difficult.”
Could have fooled me.
“I get it. I had plans too. But I think we can make it work.” I gestured toward one side of the room. “The side storage closet is big enough for two desks; it would make a perfect office. As far as the studio is concerned, I feel we’d both have the most room if we make one storage area for all of our supplies and section the room by mediums. You’ll need your sculpting area and a place for assemblage. We can do one part for painting. I need my wheel and kiln. I’m thinking we order and pay for supplies together. You get the things that only you’ll need, I’ll get the things that only I’ll need, but we go in together on supplies we can share. Do a monthly supply check and order in bulk if we can.”
Rhys nodded. “Yeah, we can probably work that out.” He glanced at his watch. “Shit, I wanted to get boxes unpacked today before bringing more tomorrow.”