Spencer Cohen Series, Book One (The Spencer Cohen Series 1) (8 page)

He pressed some buttons and the movie started, but then he did something to his end of the sofa, and it slowly leaned back, becoming a recliner. “Hey,” I said. “How do I do that?”

His lips curved upwards at the bottle he was drinking from. “There’s a button on the side.”

I found the button and the footrest slowly came up, and the back automatically reclined. “Oh man, I need to get me one of these.”

“My sister told me it was a waste of money. But it was the best decision ever.”

“I can see why.” God it was comfy. “Okay, so you have to tell me about anything in the movie that you’ve drawn for promo work.”

He smiled. “Okay.”

“What’s your favourite to work on?” I asked. “The humans or the dragons?”

“Dragons.”

“Which one?”

“Toothless.”

“Of course.”

“Is that a problem?”

I laughed. “No. There’d be something wrong if he wasn’t. He’s the cutest, for sure.”

Andrew laughed at that. “He is. He’s very cat-like to draw.”

We watched in silence for a while. “Have you worked on anything so far?” I asked. “I want to see your work.”

He tossed the DVD cover at me and flicked up one eyebrow before turning back to the movie. I looked at the cover, not quite getting what his point was. Then it hit me.
Oh my God
. “You drew the cover?”

“I was thinking I was going to have to hit you over the head with it,” he said with a laugh. “I worked on it, yes. It’s not just
my
work. It takes a huge team of people.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “You worked on the freakin’ cover? That is so cool! You should totally own that. How come you don’t tell everyone?”

“Because I’m not a dick about it.”

I snorted. “I would
so
be a dick about it.”

He laughed at that. “Well, there are enough name droppers and celebrity wannabes in this city without me adding to them.”

“And you know what?” I asked. “That’s what I like about you.”

His lips twitched as he fought a smile. “Thanks.” He looked back to the movie. “And you too. You’re not some social-ladder climber either. It’s nice to find that in this town.”

His words made my heart trip over, which caught me off guard. Kinda like being smashed side-on by a front-row forward in a rugby match.

He looked at me and bit his lip, and I could almost see his mind ticking over. Then he smiled. “I want to show you something.” He jumped off the sofa and waited for me to press the button so the automatic recliner got back into position. He raised one eyebrow at me. “You could just climb off, you know.”

“No way,” I said. “I still have the scars from my Nanna’s boot up my arse for jumping off her recliner when I was about six. I have dutifully righted every reclining chair I’ve ever sat in before getting up off it since.”

He let out a laugh but nodded toward the stairs. “Come on, it’s up here.”

I followed him, gaining an awesome view of his arse on the way. He stopped at the end doorway, but I could see inside. His bed, a high queen-size with a solid wooden frame, was perfectly made. The cover and matching pillows were black and gold, and I knew without touching them they were expensive. And soft. “If you just wanted me in your bedroom, you only had to ask,” I joked.

Only I wasn’t really joking. I wouldn’t mind spending some time in his room.

He walked in, over to another door. “In my closet actually.”

“You want me in your walk-in robe?”

He stared at me, confused. “My what?”

Bloody Australianisms still tripped me up. “Ugh. Closet. Walk-in robe. Same thing. Seriously, you need to learn Australian to speak to me. And anyway, you really want to take me in your closet?” I shrugged. “I’m okay with kink.”

He stopped with his hand on the door. “I don’t have any
kinks
,” he said. “Is it always about sex with you?”

“Not always,” I admitted. “I’m rather partial to food and music too.”

“In any particular order?”

“Nope. I like to change it up a little. Keep ’em guessing, ya know?”

He rolled his eyes and turned to the door. “I haven’t really showed anyone these, but I think you might appreciate them.”

I remembered how excited he was downstairs when he obviously decided he wanted me to see whatever was inside, so I was curious as to what on earth it could be. He opened the door, and on the right side of the long walk-in closet were shelves and neatly hanging clothes. But on the left side was just a bare wall. Except it wasn’t
just
a wall. There was a long, thin horizontal window above my head which was great for natural light, but covering the wall were frames of story boards. Boards he’d obviously drawn; some were black and white, some were coloured. Some were fully complete, some were outlines only.

“Oh wow,” I whispered. Characters I recognised immediately from movies I’d seen, I couldn’t take my eyes off them. “Andrew, they’re incredible.”

He grinned, almost with relief it seemed. Did he honestly think I wouldn’t like them? “They’re pretty cool.”

“Cool?” I repeated. “They’re amazing. You’re amazing. I can’t believe you drew these!” Embarrassment crept over his cheeks, but there was a dash of pride too. “Why aren’t these on your living room wall with the Dragon ones?”

He looked them over and sighed. “I don’t know. I guess I don’t want my work to stare at me every day. It’s not all that I am,” he said quietly.

“Fair enough,” I replied. “I can see your point. But seriously? These are incredible! Not even on your bedroom wall?”

He snorted out a laugh. “Not sure grown men would appreciate having cartoon characters looking.” He cleared his throat. “If you know what I mean.”

I scoffed at that. “Then you’re clearly bringing the wrong guys home.” I meant it as an off the cuff remark, but it made me wonder. “Did Eli like them?”

“Yeah. But I think he was kind of glad they were hidden. Like I said, no one’s seen these.”

“Well, I am impressed.” I looked them over again. “Which is your favourite?”

His face lit up. “This one.” He pointed to a full colour one of Marty, the zebra with a rainbow coloured afro from
Madagascar
. “He was fun to draw. Which one do you like?”

I pointed to one in particular of the two main characters from
Kung Fu Panda.
“The way it’s just half an outline, with general body shapes. We can see who they are, but…”

“But what?”

“I like how it’s open for interpretation. It could be them with their backs to us, walking off as a goodbye, or it could be them coming to life. You know, just the beginning.”

When he didn’t answer, I looked at him to find he was staring at me. He opened his mouth but then shook his head and decided not to say whatever it was he was struggling to say.

“Does that make sense?” I asked. “Or did I get it wrong?”

He swallowed hard, his eyes never left mine, and his voice was just a whisper. “Perfect sense. Thank you.”

Suddenly the air in that walk-in closet was static. I wanted to reach out and touch him, to kiss him. God, I wanted to taste his mouth. But that’s not what this was. I was here to help him get his ex back. Thankful for the reminder of what I was actually doing there, I looked up at the window and saw the colour of the sky. “It’s uh—” I took a breath to collect myself. “it’s getting late. We should eat before we go out, yeah?”

He took a step back and breathed out slowly. Which told me I wasn’t imagining the electricity between us. “Uh yeah.”

I turned around to face the clothes side of his wardrobe. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more neatly organised closet.” Even the folded clothes were done to perfection.

He touched a random hanging shirt. “It’s not like I haven’t had a lot of spare time lately.”

Oh right. Eli
. And again, it came back to him. I was starting to hate the guy, and I’d never even laid eyes on him. “Are any of these clothes his?”

Andrew’s eyes narrowed a fraction. “No.”

“That’s a shame. I was hoping he might have left a shirt behind or something?”

“Why?”

“So I can wear it,” I told him. “Just something else he might notice. We want to get a reaction from him, right?”

“I guess,” he answered. Then he picked out a knitted vest, in the same argyle pattern as the sweater he was wearing, only it was blue and grey not blue and red. He held it up on the hanger. “He bought me this.”

“Even better,” I said with a smile. “Can I wear it?”

He blinked in surprise. “Okay.”

I held it up to my shirt. “Does it match?”

“Um, not really.”

He was right. It was a different shade of blue. I pulled a white long-sleeved, button-down shirt out by the hanger. “This’ll fit me.”

We were roughly the same height, but completely different builds. I was lean, he was solid, and from what I felt of his abs earlier, I’d say he was pretty damn fit. It was a shame he chose to cover it up with sweaters, no matter how cute they made him look.

I started to unbutton my shirt. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Well, I can’t wear your shirt over the top of mine.” I got the last button undone and shucked out of it. “Don’t worry, I’ll pay to have them dry cleaned.”

“It’s not that,” he said and cleared his throat. He tried not to look at me, but he seemed unable to help himself. I had no problems with him looking. “Your chest is bare.”

“Hey,” I said, deeply offended. “I have
some
chest hair.” I patted down the fine fuzz.

He laughed, but he was blushing so hard even his ears turned pink. “No, I mean you don’t have tattoos on your chest.”

“Nope. Sleeves only.” I looked down at my shoulders, where the ink stopped and bare skin started. “What? Does that surprise you?”

“Well, yeah. I just assumed you’d have them, well, everywhere.” He was still blushing, and trying not to ogle me, and trying not to smile.

“Nah, not yet. Maybe one day. They’re kind of addictive, but I like what I have so far.” I slipped on his shirt and started to do the buttons up. “If I found the right one, I probably would.”

He considered this, but didn’t say anything.

When I had the shirt on, I lifted both arms out. “This fits me pretty well, actually. You have good taste in clothes.”

He granted me a small smile. “Thanks.”

I started to roll up the sleeve, but stopped. “Sleeves up or down?” I asked. “Do you want him to see them or not?”

“It’s up to you,” he said.

“Well, no, it’s up to you actually. You said before he wouldn’t ever think you’d go out with a guy with tattoos, so I can leave them down. It’s no problem.”

His eyes met mine, and he shook his head. “Up. Don’t be someone you’re not.”

I scoffed out a laugh, though it was hardly funny. “Well, that’s exactly what I am. Actually, that’s what I get paid to be.”

He looked away, like the individual threads on his clothes were the most fascinating things ever. “Yeah, I guess.”

“But thank you,” I said. “For wanting me to be me.” He had no idea what those simple words could possibly mean to someone like me.

He gave me a tight smile, then he pulled his sweater off by the hem and hung it back up straight away. Then he undid his shirt, and without a word, he slipped it off. He raked through his clothes, not finding what he wanted, then he went for his folded shirts. He plucked out a grey one, but before he could put it on, I said, “Stop.”

He spun to look at me. “What?”

There I was, without one lick of shame, staring at his body. His very perfectly toned, perfectly defined chest and abs. “Fuck, Andrew.”

“Oh,” he said, and I almost groaned when his blush crept down his neck and over his chest. He fumbled with his shirt.

“Feel free not to wear that,” I offered. “Because, Jesus.”

“I told you I work out,” he said, pulling the shirt on regardless of my almost begging him not to.

“Yeah, but you didn’t say you were fucking hot.”

He totally laughed me off, disregarding every compliment I could give him. Andrew was such a mixed bag. He was shy and a little meek even, yet so forthright in other ways. I could usually pick a top or bottom, but he left me utterly confused.

“Okay, personal question time,” I announced.

He hung his head. “Oh, no.”

His reaction made me smile. “Remember, you can veto me at any time.”

“Sounds ominous,” he mumbled but looked at me expectantly. Waiting, dreading…

“Eli. Did you top him, or did he top you?” I really had no business knowing. Sure, it told me the relationship dynamics between them, but I’d never asked any other of my clients anything so personal. But with Andrew, I needed to know. I wanted to know what he was like in bed.

He was shocked at first—that much was clear—and his clothes were suddenly fascinating again. His brows furrowed for a moment, and I thought he wasn’t going to answer. But then he shrugged. “Both. Though it was…”