Page 8 of Sweet Thing

“So what do you think of the work?” She asked.

Cute British accent, Sim thought absently. “I really wanted to hate it, but she’s fucking amazing,” Simeon admitted, his internal filter seemingly broken. The woman’s eyes widened as if she was startled by his honesty.

“That’s a strange thing to say. Why did you want to hate it, do you have a history with the artist?”

“Something like that,” Sim replied coyly. “But how could I hate someone who can paint his soul onto canvas? No matter what our history, I can see a little of what he saw, I get it.”

The woman gave Simeon a peculiar look. Sim knew he was jabbering and not making much sense. Maybe attending the exhibition had been a bad idea. He heard a wail above the murmuration of the guests, and looked up to see Pieter across the room with his baby son Lukas on his hip. Simeon’s heart swelled in his chest. Pieter grinned and waved; Sim waved back coquettishly, noticing that the woman grinned widely and waved at them too. The woman leaned over to whisper in Simeon’s ear.

“Pieter has missed you so much, Simeon. I’m happy you’re friends, but if you hurt him again, you’ll have to answer to me!”

Simeon’s eyes grew wide with alarm. “Emily? Emily Raven?” Simeon stuttered, glaring at the woman. She grinned playfully at his discomfort.

“Oh, my gaah’d I’m so… embarrassed, what must you think of me?” Simeon exclaimed breathily.

“Your honesty is refreshing, Sim; I was touched by your comments.” Emily gave Simeon her glass, grasped Sim’s shoulder, and pulled him closer. She kissed him on each cheek.

“A pleasure to meet you. Don’t be a stranger Sim,” she said, caressing his flushed cheeks. “I want to paint that lovely face one day.” Emily turned away as the wailing baby and the tall, pretty, blond man reached where she and Sim were standing.

Simeon was wracked with waves of confusion and embarrassment. He saw Pieter grin at the expression of alarm on his face. Pieter passed Lukas to Emily and leaned in to kiss her on the lips. The baby wailed again.

“Hey Little Bird, don’t worry, mama and papa have kisses for you too!” she cooed, as they both kissed his soft rosy cheeks and turned the wail into giggles.

“I think he’s still hungry; I know you wanted to enjoy your evening…” Pieter trailed.

“Your appetite for boobs is as bad as your papa’s“ Emily exclaimed, reaching into her dress and removing an ivory breast. Lukas latched onto the engorged nipple and sucked hungrily. She swayed from side to side; rocking her son and caressing his short blond-haired head.

Simeon was glued to the spot holding two glasses of apple juice, his jaw hanging open in shock at what he had witnessed. Pieter reached a finger out to Sim’s chin and pushed his mouth closed. He laughed at Sim’s reaction.

“That’s what they’re for Sim. My baby’s gotta eat, you know,” he chuckled.

“I’ll take Bird to the office, and if you see your mum, let her know he’s ready to go home. Nice to meet you at last Simeon, you know I meant what I said,” Emily relayed, fixing his gaze for a moment before she turned to Pieter. He leaned in and kissed Emily again, his face aglow as he watched her wind her way through the crowd, toward the office.

****

Pieter turned to Simeon. He looked at him, really looked at him this time. Simeon had changed a lot. Through his tight T-shirt, Pieter could see Sim’s body had gone from being rake-skinny and emaciated to having toned, compact muscle. His face had filled out a little, the skin still gothic pale, but his brown eyes were bright. He looked healthy.

“Glad you could make it Sim, even just to watch your jaw drop at seeing a breast. That look on your face was fucking priceless.” Pieter teased.

A waitress approached, and Sim placed Emily’s glass on her tray. He looked up a Pieter and held a hand to his own mouth, shaking his head in mortification.

“Oh, my gaah'd! I don’t think I’ve ever been so embarrassed. I had no idea that was Emily… She asked me… Merde! Me and my stupid flapping mouth!” Simeon babbled. He glanced up at the amusement on Pieter’s face and then punched him on the arm.

“Stop laughing at me, Bayer,” Sim whined. Pieter nudged him, hip to hip and they both started to chuckle. The exchange made warmth flood to Simeon’s chest. He still couldn’t quite believe he had been forgiven.

“Come on Duchamp, let’s mingle.”

The men silently meandered in and out of the crowd. They made a striking pair. Pieter was now thirty but still looked twenty with his androgynous pretty-boy features, high cheekbones, blue-gray eyes, and blond hair. Simeon had worshipped all six foot one of his willowy frame from the moment their eyes met.

Simeon Duchamp was twenty-five and even more androgynous than Pieter. When he and Pieter had worked fashion runways together, or been on photo shoots, they epitomized light and darkness—Angel and Devil.

As they made their way through the crowd, they shared amused sidelong glances and occasionally said hello or nodded to faces they recognized.

Simeon’s brain was a whirl of feelings he couldn’t quite put into order yet. So, that was Emily Raven. Sim was still jealous and wanted to hate the woman. But she had been nice to him, and after all of the growing up he had done, and all the therapy, Sim knew hating Emily was not in his highest good. The fact that he actually liked her annoyed the crap out of him, though. He wished she had been a troll-faced witch. But Pieter would never have fallen so hard for a troll-faced witch. She wasn’t a witch at all; she was talented, sweet, kind, and British. He admired her feistiness, just like Pieter once said he would.

“So what do you think?” Pieter asked.

“The work is amazing,” Sim replied almost absently.