Page 70 of Love Language

Inspired, Marco pulled out his laptop and electronic drawing pad. He wasn’t quite sure where he was going with this. He’d spent so many years working on design that he hadn’t spent much time thinking of art.

He doodled and played. The first picture was awash in yellow, abstract with curlicues and rich textures of subtle ridges. It struck him only toward the end that he was thinking of lemons.

The second started out as vague shapes, but then he just ended up drawing Greg, not as he was now, but that sleepy way he looked in the mornings, peaceful and tousled and happy.

It was clear where his mind was.

He looked up and caught Greg staring at him, speculatively. He was pretty sure that Greg couldn’t see his screen, though he felt like maybe he should hide it.

What? he asked.

You do all sorts of design, right?

Er… I can. I mean, it’s pretty common for graphic designers to do a range of work and I’ve been doing it for a while.

Would you be interested in designing book covers?

I never thought about it. But sure.

If you can make me a portfolio of, say, two book covers from each of three genres, I can send it to our artistic director.

There was Greg, solving all his problems again. He felt both gratitude and that dangling sense of worry.

Isn’t that nepotism?

Greg laughed. It’s only nepotism if you’re incompetent, or I hire you over more qualified candidates. If you’re any good, my artistic director will hire you on your own merit, and I’m just the guy who put you on the top of the pile for consideration. That’s called networking.

Right. Of course.

How much does it pay?

There’s a range. Maybe five hundred to two thousand per cover, but the two thousand end is pretty rare. Depends on the genre. And if you’re doing it freelance, maybe less. I’m not sure. You have to really do your research, though, and know what’s trending in the market right now.

That I can definitely do.

That happy pursuit occupied Marco for the rest of the weekend, until Greg had to practically coerce him into bed.

He loved new projects though, especially where he had to learn new skills. There was a whole world of fonts, models, and compositions that he was learning almost from scratch, and his brain was sucking in information like it was air.

I think I can have a portfolio to you by Friday, he promised Greg as they fell asleep.

It was the second night in a row where they’d just fallen asleep together, nothing more, but Greg seemed happy.

On Sunday, he woke up early, his laptop open nearly before he’d used the toilet and brushed his teeth. He didn’t even bother putting on clothes, just tugged on a clean t-shirt for hanging around the house. Greg followed his lead and pulled on some sweatpants.

Greg seemed supportive of his sudden activity and brought him snacks and encouraged stretch breaks throughout the day. Occasionally Marco would show him a cover design concept and Greg would applaud his work while heavily maintaining that he had no clue what sold in terms of covers. His job was entirely inside the books.

Marco had started out working at Greg’s kitchen table, but after lunch Greg had pointedly set up a pair of tray tables in front of the couch. Bemused, Greg had moved his laptop and drawing pad to the new location.

Greg immediately flopped down on the couch, head in Marco’s lap and crossword puzzle book in hand. Which meant that Marco got to alternate between using the keyboard and stroking Greg’s hair or caressing down his chest.

If Marco could describe his perfect day, this might have been it.

Just existing in each other’s company with Greg close at his side.

By the time evening rolled around, though, he could tell that Greg was getting restless. And he knew himself well enough to recognize that taking a break would make him more productive in the morning.

Let’s go out, he suggested. Dancing, maybe?