Page 47 of In the Frame

I wash my face a second time for luck and continue getting ready for bed. I’m still a little drunk, thank God, which takes the edge off the unreality of this. When I step back into the room, with all lights off except for a hint of the sunlight outside, Florian’s sitting up in bed.

Shirtless.

Act cool. Like I happen by hot guys in my bed all the time. Even if they’re weird. Think unsexy thoughts. Don’t get distracted. “Hi,” I whisper.

“Hi.”

I clear my throat, walk to the other side of the bed, and slip in. The cotton sheets are cool against my legs. A double bed isn’t that big when I think about it. Like, that’s probably why I got the room on sale, because everyone else wanted a king, even with the sea view from the bay window. Shifting around, I try to get comfortable without touching Florian. Which is challenging because the bed is small and we’re not small and oh God help me, I’m getting hard.

At least Florian can’t see my situation.

“Okay?” Florian asks after a minute of me scooching around in bed, trying to find any position that will make my cock soften and not betray me. On my back is out because the last thing we need is my dick making a tent out of our bedding. Turning with my back to Florian seems rude. Which leaves us with only one option, nose to nose.

“Yeah.”

Florian smiles at me. His expression has eased, making him look younger. More vulnerable. He looks sleepy but not upset to be in this situation. “Thanks for letting me stay,” he murmurs. “I hope you don’t think I’m taking advantage.”

“Definitely not. If anything, I am.”

Florian laughs. “I see.”

“This is very fake boyfriend of us,” I point out.

“Authenticity, remember.”

“Yes.”

We’re quiet for a long moment.

“Matty?”

“Yes?”

“I had fun tonight. Thanks for inviting me.”

I blink. Florian, thanking me? It’s hard to believe this is the same person who lost his mind not that long ago in a lift when he was in an enclosed space with me the last time. “Me too.”

He smiles again, letting his eyes drift shut, with his hair fanned on the pillow. And I don’t know what I expect—or want—in this moment. Do I want him to pounce on me? I mean, fair, we’ve had a lot of wine and we’ve been up all night and he needs to get some sleep to drive safely later. But when he falls asleep and relaxes further, with his hand on my arm, I can finally relax enough to sleep too.

Chapter Twenty-Six

When I wake, it’s like my cock has been on high alert as our lookout all night. In case of any surprise invader attacks. Fuck. It’s the first thing I’m aware of. Then, the second thing I’m aware of is that somehow, I’ve become the little spoon in the night. Florian’s wrapped close around me. And he’s pressing hard against me too. Judging by his even breathing, he’s still sleeping. Well, I consider, at least he’s having the same problem.

Breathe, Matty.

I can see the clock from here, and at least we have a couple of hours ’til noon. I’m feeling far too sober. Florian’s arm is draped over me, his hand against my chest. Warm.

Maybe I’m too still because it’s not long before Florian stirs ever so slightly. I hear his pillow crinkle as he moves his head.

Biting my lip, I don’t dare move. Neither does Florian.

If I play dead, this situation isn’t happening, and we won’t have to acknowledge it. And then we can go about our business as usual. Like nothing happened. I love denial. Great stuff.

“Matty?” Florian whispers, shifting again. “I didn’t mean…”

My face burns. I don’t dare look at him. And I have the distinct feeling he’s trying to peer at me, his head off his pillow. “It’s okay…”

Florian at last rolls away, and I move onto my back. If anything, I’m harder than ever. I squeeze my eyes shut and will my erection away. Think about being unemployed. Think about never painting again. Think about rubbish collection and bills and… fuck, I don’t know what else.