Page 58 of The Broken Hearts Club

On Thursday evening, Collie and I stood at the new table in the den, while one of my records played softly in the background. I was packing my artwork into a large, zippered portfolio case, so it would be ready to go the next day. “You did an amazing job,” Collie said, picking up each print and studying it before handing it to me. “If they don’t see the brilliance in your work, there’s something wrong with them.”

“I feel good about it, and I couldn’t have done it without you.”

He ducked his head shyly and mumbled, “I didn’t do anything.”

“Yes, you did. You brought me coffee, and kept me company, and helped me brainstorm. But more than anything, you inspired me.” I gently tilted his chin up with a fingertip, and when he looked at me I told him, “You really are my muse. I want you to know that.” I felt better when I was around him. I was happier than I’d been in a very long time—maybe happier than I’d ever been—and that did wonderful things for my creativity.

Collie’s face lit up with a gorgeous smile. His hair was gathered into a stubby ponytail, but a lot of it had escaped. When I brushed a lock out of his eyes, he leaned into my touch.

My fingers lingered in his hair as both of us paused, watching each other… as if we were waiting for something to happen.

My gaze slid from his eyes to his mouth. He licked his lips.

I really wanted to kiss him. The thought of it made my heart race.

But in the next moment, he swayed a little and grabbed onto my sweatshirt, as if he was trying to stop himself from toppling over. My breath caught, and I blurted, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just a little tired.”

I picked him up, cradling him in my arms as I carried him to the bedroom. “I can see why. It’s been a long day.”

“It’s like, eight-thirty,” he grumbled. “I’m not ready for bed.”

“Nobody said you had to go to sleep, but I’m tired, too. Let’s relax and watch some TV.”

“Can we have some snacks?”

“Of course. Want some popcorn?” I was glad his appetite was returning.

Collie nodded. “And something sweet, maybe?”

I put him down on the bed and said, “Sure thing. I’ll be right back.”

I hurried to the kitchen, any thoughts of a kiss pushed to the back of my mind. This wasn’t the time to start anything. That had just been made crystal clear to me.

A few minutes later, I returned with a big bowl of popcorn, a pack of red licorice, and two cans of soda. He was propped up by a huge mound of pillows, and he’d wrapped himself in his fuzzy purple blanket, so only his face was sticking out. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, since you’ve been springing for all the groceries,” Collie said, “but do you think we can get some real soda next time, instead of this weird organic stuff that tastes vaguely like topsoil?”

“Real soda is bad for you.”

“But so is candy, and you agreed to buy that.”

“It’s a balancing act,” I said, as I put his drink and the candy on the nightstand and handed him the bowl. “Healthy soda and candy is less bad for you than regular soda and candy.”

“My mind knows you’re right. My taste buds have zero fucks to give.” As I circled around to my side of the bed and kicked off my shoes, he asked, “Does this popcorn have butter on it, or is it a big, giant air popped bowl of depression?”

“It’s buttered and salted. I’m not a monster.” I climbed onto the bed and rested my hand on the stuffed gator between us.

“That’s good at least.”

He clicked the remote and brought up a half-watched episode of a trashy reality dating show. “It’s my turn to pick what we watch,” I reminded him. “You picked last night.”

“You know you want to watch this. Quit acting like you’re not dying to see if the fuck boy ends up with the girl with fake boobs.” With that, he shoved a huge handful of popcorn into his mouth.

“You need to be a lot more specific. That’s every couple on this show.”

Despite myself, I ended up totally engrossed in the episode. A few minutes later, the cat jumped onto the bed and curled up at our feet. Collie grinned and muttered, “We need T-shirts.”

“What?”