Page 25 of A Coffee Away

Esteban bought me new canvases, which I filled with portraits of places and people I met. Strokes of pinks and oranges contrasted with the blacks and reds I used to paint before. We went to some galleries to show my work, and I met many of the friends he’d told me about.

I even got a part-time job as an assistant for the curator at a local gallery.

Most of the gallery owners’ interest was centered on the dark painting Esteban showed them. The one from the night we met. The take they had was the same as Esteban’s, and they wanted a before-and-after exhibition of my art. The problem was that all that art was at my parents’.

No matter how many times I called them, they never picked up. Esteban offered to come with me to their house, but I wasn’t ready to face them.

As for Sylas, I called him and explained what happened. He was disgusted by what my parents did. They told my family I’d fallen ill. They even missed mass and canceled the brunch.

It broke my heart again, knowing my parents were so ashamed of me that they made up a story to hide that I was gay. But I wouldn’t dwell on it. This was my reality, and I had to move forward.

As the weeks passed, we went out with many friends and clubbed countless times, and I even had some dates with Andres. He was a good guy after all, and just an hour ago, we’d slept together.

He was a free soul, and he wasn’t interested in settling down. He made that clear when we started going out. It was all about fun and sex. When I told him I was a virgin in terms of guys, he offered to show me, and show me he did. For my first time with a man, I think it went well.

I looked at my watch as I reached Esteban’s apartment. Shit. It was 3:00 a.m.

The door screeched as I opened it.

The room was lit by a candle resting on the central table, and the scent of leather and spice filled the space.

My heart lurched. Fuck.

Esteban stared at me from the sofa, a tight expression on his face.

“Where have you been?” he asked, a glass of what appeared to be bourbon in hand.

His intensity, as always, made my pulse hike. He was that kind of man.

Not that I needed to explain, but there was something about Esteban that made me want to do what he asked. It wasn’t weird or anything. I wanted to do it for him. It seemed like the way it should be.

I scraped a hand through my long, tousled hair. I hadn’t thought of brushing it before rushing back. “I was with Andres.”

Esteban’s eyes narrowed, and he clenched his jaw. “Did you…?” He paused, his voice strained.

Esteban knew a lot about me after long conversations over coffee, and one of the things I told him was that I’d never slept with a man. It was the last time we talked about what happened with Andres at the club.

“You’ve never had sex with a man?” Esteban whispered, hand gripping his mug.

“With Andres, yes, but only oral.” I couldn’t look him in the eyes. “I’ve been with women, back when I thought what I felt was wrong, but I hated it.”

His eyes moved across my features. “It’s hard to imagine. You’re so…”

I raised both eyebrows. “So what?”

“Pretty.” He smiled, his dimples full on.

I threw a piece of my muffin at him. “Stop making things up.”

He caught it and put it in his mouth, then winked at me with a devilish grin. “You know I’d never lie to you, Robbie.”

My skin warmed, and I shook my head. “Whatever.”

“Roberto, did you sleep with him?” Esteban’s hard tone brought me back.

“Yes.” I bit my lip.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then leaned forward, putting the glass on the table. His elbows rested on his thighs as he raked his hair back, keeping his face down for a couple of seconds before straightening.