“I can’t yet,” I said without looking at him, which might make me a dick, but I was working, and I really, really needed to get the background right. After a year and a half together, you’d think he’d know me well enough by now, but the truth was, my art came between us often, even though Jayden was an art agent. He got strangely jealous, as if spending time painting meant I cared less about him. He needed more attention than I could give him sometimes, but I wasn’t sure if that was his fault or mine. I had a feeling I was a shitty boyfriend when I got lost in my zone.
But then, it wasn’t as if Jayden was perfect either. We’d had our struggles—one of them being that art wasn’t the only thing Jayden was jealous of, but anything or anyone I spent time with. He always thought I was doing something I shouldn’t. But as much as I might accidentally forget we were supposed to go out to dinner, or not come to bed on time because I was painting or drawing, I didn’t cheat, and I wasn’t a liar.
He wanted my attention all the time, and I wasn’t good at that.
“I’ll be there soon, okay?” When he didn’t respond, I added, “I promise,” and looked over at him and smiled. Jayden really was beautiful—blond hair and golden, tanned skin. His nightly routine was more than I did in a month, but it clearly worked.
“Fine. Whatever.” He turned away. He was naked, his ass firm and tight as he went back to my room, on his way kicking a shoe I must’ve left in the hallway.
Jayden and I didn’t live together. He wanted to, but I wasn’t ready to take that step. I couldn’t say if I would ever be. I’d gone from long-term relationship to long-term relationship ever since college, but I’d never been in love. I’d never found that person I couldn’t live without. It was annoying as shit. I didn’t understand why it was so difficult.
My gaze found the canvas again. I took in the oranges and golds I’d mixed together, trying to find the emotion in the figures silhouetted there. Shit, it wasn’t right. I couldn’t put my finger on what I’d done wrong, but it suddenly took everything in me not to toss it. Our conversation had pulled me out of it, and now all I could do was focus on the imperfections.
With a sigh, I went about my routine of cleaning up my supplies. I should have gone to bed with Jayden hours ago instead of obsessing. I was good at obsessing.
I’d been…antsy lately. I didn’t know how else to put it. Nothing felt right, and I didn’t understand why. I was thirty years old and had a career I could’ve only dreamed of. I’d been lucky in art school to have one of my instructors take a special liking to my work, and he’d introduced me to Magdalena, who was one of the biggest names in figurative and expressionism work. She’d taken me under her wing, trained me, and shared my work with her colleagues, which had gotten me the attention and love I never would have found, especially so quickly, on my own.
In my wildest dreams, I never could’ve foreseen the day that people would know the name Lane Ryan. That they would spend the kind of money they did on my art. While I was honored and loved it, I…also didn’t. I wasn’t that guy who liked attention, who needed to stand out. Most of the time I was more comfortable being by myself, with just a paintbrush or a sketch pad, but nowadays those moments were fewer and further between.
When I thought that way, I again realized I was an asshole. I was lucky to get to do what I loved, to afford my apartment in Manhattan and go to galleries where they showed my work. Where I met beautiful men like Jayden or women like my ex-girlfriend, Alana, whom I’d dated before him.
But sometimes it all felt…cold, and not like me. I was much more lowkey than all this.
So I finished cleaning up my mess and went to my bedroom—the one and only mess I was good at dealing with. I tugged off the boxer briefs I’d been painting in and climbed into bed with Jayden.
“Are you mad at me?” I asked close to his ear.
“Not anymore,” he replied, but I thought maybe he kind of was. He just enjoyed that he’d gotten his way.
He rolled over and took my mouth before kissing his way down my body. When he got to my dick, he kissed and licked and sucked it for a moment. I didn’t have to see him to know he frowned that I wasn’t hard. That had been an issue sometimes lately, one I couldn’t explain. It seemed to happen when we fought or when he coaxed me from my studio. I thought maybe it was also because I’d been feeling so weird about everything in my life for a while now. And it was all catching up with me.
“What’s going on with you, Lane?” Jayden asked with a sigh.
I could understand his disappointment. Who wanted to feel like they didn’t turn their boyfriend on? And the thing was, he did. While it had taken me until after college to realize my bisexuality, I was really fucking bi…or pansexual, probably. I’d been with men, women, transmen, transwomen, and they all did it for me.
Though I still hadn’t told my family… I didn’t know why. They wouldn’t care. My brother was gay, and they’d been nothing but accepting, yet I hadn’t shared my sexuality with them.
Now I definitely wasn’t getting hard because I was thinking about my parents. Great.
“Nothing. Roll over. I’ll suck you off,” I told him, but Jayden didn’t move.
“Are you cheating on me?”
“God no. How many times do I have to tell you? I don’t…I don’t see how you can know me and believe I would do something like that.” Jayden was the most suspicious partner I’d ever had. Always accusing me of cheating or wanting someone other than him, and that had started before the sex issues.
“What am I supposed to think? You spend half the night in your studio and—”
“That’s who I am. That’s always been who I am. When my muse strikes, I paint. It has nothing to do with not wanting to be around you.”
He ignored that. “You don’t really initiate sex anymore. You’re surrounded by beautiful people, men and women who fawn over you all the time. It’s not just men I have to compete with for your attention.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s not me they care about. It’s my art. They respect my work. Not everyone is trying to get in my pants. And you don’t have to compete. You’re the one who’s decided that. Just because I’m pan doesn’t mean you have more competition. Are you saying because I’m attracted to more than just men, you don’t think I can commit?” Anger burned its way through my insides. He was angry with me because I painted and because I was in some weird sort of funk? I didn’t get angry when he went out, when he went to bars and drank or stayed out most of the night. I trusted him. Why couldn’t he do the same with me?
For the second time, Jayden chose to ignore what I said. “You won’t introduce me to your family. We’ve been dating for almost two years, yet you never take me home with you. They don’t even know you’re queer when you have a gay brother, so it’s not like they would care.”
Guilt dropped an anchor in my gut. He had me there. I had no excuse for why I hadn’t told my family…why I hadn’t told Isaac. I didn’t understand it myself. Especially when it came to my brother.
With a sigh, Jayden shoved out of bed. “I think I’m gonna go home.” He turned on the bedside lamp and went for his clothes.