Chapter 12

TWELVE

Early had had worse weekends, but as they dressed in some of their old clothes, then headed down to start work in the office, they couldn’t remember them.

To be honest, the weekend had been bittersweet. Returning to their parents’ house to gather up their belongings, not once but twice, had been horrible, but also empowering. It was like they were taking their life into their own hands for the very first time. They’d managed to hold their own and keep their nerve against their weeping, guilt-tripping mum and their overbearing, loud dad.

Granted, they’d broken down into tears as Nally drove them away from the house they’d grown up in for what might have been the last time, if the threats their father had shouted at them as they’d pulled away from the curb held true. They’d sobbed for the entire ride back to Hawthorne House, then indulged by eating the entire carton of ice cream Rebecca had brought them as they settled into Rafe’s flat in the afternoon.

They’d kept a low profile in Rafe’s flat all of Sunday, too scared of running into Rhys and having him say something horrible like “It was all a mistake” or “You’re rubbish in bed and I don’t want anything to do with you now”.

Sunday might have seemed like they were hiding, but in the end, Early was gladder for the quiet day of reflection, a day where they didn’t have to face any of the heavy things staring them in the face, than they’d thought they’d be.

It was that day of breathing that made it possible for them to face Rhys with a lot more courage than they thought they had, even though their heart was pounding, as Rhys apologized and said they needed to talk. Meeting Rhys’s eyes had been the hardest thing they’d done in a long time, but they were rewarded for their effort by seeing something other than pity and disappointment staring back at them.

In fact, Rhys looked contrite. Intense, but contrite. There was a hopeful warmth about him, too. It gave Early hope.

And then came the reminder that they were supposed to take all their clothes off, once again, and sit in front of a room filled with strangers, all staring at them.

Okay, they weren’t strangers at that point, and most of them were far enough along in their paintings that they would probably spend more time staring at their canvases than at them. But they would still be naked, and Rhys would be one of the ones doing the staring.

Why was it that getting naked in front of strangers got harder the more they did it instead of easier? They slipped out of their trousers and unbuttoned their shirt, trying to use willpower alone to still their shaking hands. Their clothes didn’t feel like their own anymore. It felt a bit like they were shedding their skin as they shrugged out of everything, folded it, and put it aside. At least they’d worn underwear they liked, though they were more like silky versions of masculine briefs instead of the more feminine style they preferred.

They had to take more than one deep breath once they were wrapped in their robe before stepping out of the closet. Rhys was busy explaining a few things about highlights and finishing touches as he moved from easel to easel, checking everyone’s work. He sent Early a quick look and briefly paused his teaching as Early walked to the block in the center of the room.

“Those of you who have taken my classes before know that white is actually one of the worst colors you can use for highlights. You want to look for pale blues and peaches, colors that compliment what you’ve painted or contrast it, depending on the look you’re going for.”

As Rhys continued, Early took a deep, deep breath and shed their robe.

They tried to block out everything as they turned to sit on the block in the same pose they’d used for the last few classes. At the last minute, they remembered their hair was up and tugged the band out. They shook their head to loosen their hair, then combed their fingers through it, trying to remember how it had draped over their shoulders on Thursday, the last time they’d posed.

As soon as they got it right and settled into their pose, they realized the room was quiet. Not only that, Rhys was watching them. Everyone else was watching them, too, but Rhys wasn’t staring at him with an artist’s eyes.

There was so much more in Rhys’s gaze than an assessment of light and shadow, shape and line. Rhys’s eyes were filled with emotion, warm and anxious together, both longing and lost.

Yeah, they needed to talk, alright. They needed to talk about the fact that even after they’d had a terrifying first-time experience with Rhys, they still wanted him. They needed to talk about why Rhys had gotten so upset over Raina’s jumper. Had Rhys been upset with them for other reasons and just took it out on them because of the jumper or was it the jumper itself that had upset him and Early had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time?

If what Early knew about Rhys was true, it was probably a little of both. Rhys was under a lot of pressure, and they hadn’t helped that at all by being so squirrely in bed. All they’d wanted to do was help, to make Rhys feel better, and to maybe start something deeper and more real between the two of them, and now look where they were.

Early closed their eyes for a moment to avoid Rhys’s intense scrutiny. Where they were was in a public classroom with Rhys staring at everything that had probably been a disappointment to him the other night.

But were they really a disappointment? That thought whispered to them and brought with it the feeling of empowerment that had come with calmly telling his dad goodbye on Saturday and walking away, even though every insult known to man had been hurled after them. It took a lot of guts to do what they’d done. Hell, it took a lot of guts to be who they were.

They opened their eyes, and Rhys had moved out of their field of vision. That was probably for the best, though they could still hear Rhys’s deep, rich voice as he consulted with one of the painters about their work.

Rhys wanted to talk to them. He probably wanted to let them down easy and reassure them that it wasn’t them, it was him. Early didn’t want to hear it, but it was better than the alternative. It was better than if Rhys didn’t want to talk to them at all.

“Well, isn’t this a lovely, fun class,” Janice said as she slipped into the studio then shut the door behind her.

“Mum, I’m not allowing outsiders into this class, for obvious reasons,” Rhys said, sending Early a sideways glance as he crossed the room to meet his mother.

“It’s okay,” Early said, even though they sounded small and uncertain. “Janice is a friend.”

“See?” Janice met her son with a kiss on his cheek as he came to tower over her, frowning. “I’m a friend.”

“What kind of friend?” Rhys asked, like he didn’t think she was.

“The kind who wants to see how well this class is getting on so that she can make an executive decision about whether we should offer it again in the winter session,” Janice said.

“You can’t argue against that,” Leslie said to Violet in a murmur.

The two of them laughed.

Paradoxically, that put Early at ease. Even when Janice started a lap around the room, glancing alternately at the paintings the class was working on and at Early, Rhys following her.

“Do you really have to do this now, Mum?” Rhys asked, exasperated. “If it’s an evaluation you want, couldn’t you wait until a class when we don’t have a live model? This is Early’s last class anyhow. You could have waited.”

Early tensed, losing the smile that had begun to play across their face. Their last class? Did Rhys want to get rid of them? Just like that?

It took another few, heart-pounding moments before Early remembered the gig was only for three classes. Rhys had another model coming in on Thursday to give the class a chance to work on something different.

“I don’t like to wait, dear,” Janice said, then leaned close to Violet’s painting. “Ooh. Very nice. You’ve captured them exquisitely.”

“Uff. It’s amateur work at best,” Violet replied, then sent Early a wink.

Part of Early wanted to know what the two of them were talking about. A bigger part hoped they’d never have to see the images the class had created of them, ever. It was bad enough to sprawl there, all of their disappointments and shortcomings on display. It was another entirely to have to look at images of that. Images that would last forever.

“Breathe,” Rhys said, suddenly standing just behind Early’s shoulder. “You can do this. Just ignore Mum.”

“Janice isn’t the problem,” Early said before they could stop themself.

They felt Rhys tense beside them, even though they could only glimpse part of him out of the corner of their eye.

A moment later, Rhys walked in front of them, almost brushing them with their hand as he went. He continued on, but instead of going to look over someone’s shoulder at their painting, he took a seat at the easel he’d claimed as his own and picked up a brush from the rolling table by his side.

At first, Early didn’t think anything of it. Rhys had been working on his own painting during the class, which he’d been using to demonstrate various techniques he was teaching the class. But as soon as Rhys settled in, looking at Early like he would take in every detail, Early caught his breath.

Rhys looked so sorry. His expression said more than words could. Regret was painted in every line of his face, even in the way his shoulders slumped a bit and the way he sat uncomfortably on his stool. He was right in Early’s line of vision. They couldn’t avoid the conversation that Rhys had just started.

They didn’t know what to do about it. They didn’t want Rhys to feel bad because they were inadequate.

Before Early could decide what to do, Janice stepped up behind Rhys and took a look at his painting. She didn’t make a comment, but she hummed as if what she’d seen on the canvas was interesting.

“Mum, do you mind? I’m trying to work,” Rhys said, dragging his gaze away from Early to frown at her.

“I can see that, dear,” Janice said, smiling at Early. She definitely knew what kind of work Rhys was trying to do. “You have a beautiful subject to work on,” she went on.

“Yes, I know,” Rhys said, turning his gaze back to Early again.

Heat began to spill through Early. It was dangerous for so many reasons, not the least of which was what it would do to his body if Rhys looked at him in the wrong way. Or maybe in the right way. They absolutely did not know anymore.

“Carry on,” Janice said, patting her son’s arm, then stepping aside so that she could look at Early herself.

Early didn’t know where to put his focus. They wanted to keep up the nonverbal conversation they’d started with Rhys, even though they didn’t know what to say or how to say it. All they knew was that it felt like maybe things could be okay again, if they just did things right. Having Janice Hawthorne watching while they tried to figure out how to be mature and put their complex feelings into words for the man they’d messed things up so badly with was next to impossible.

“You’re doing fine, love,” Janice said.

It took Early a second to realize she was talking to them.

“Posing for a class like this isn’t easy,” Janice went on. “It requires courage that not many people have. But look at how much joy you’re bringing to people and how much beauty you’re putting into the world.” She gestured to the classroom in general, but her gaze ended on Rhys.

Rhys was focused on his painting for the moment and didn’t catch what his mum was truly saying. Early thought they understood, though. They smiled and relaxed as much as they could without shifting their pose too much.

They wondered what their life would have been like if they’d been born a Hawthorne and not a Stevens. Janice and Robert were two of the most accepting people they’d ever met in their life. They’d created such wonderful people in turn. Rhys wasn’t the only Hawthorne who Early was in love with. It was a different kind of love, but he didn’t know what he would do without Rebecca, or even Nally.

The Hawthornes had given them the courage to do what they were doing now. Without them, they’d probably still have short hair and wear football jerseys just to fit in with the other men their age. They’d still be Earl.

“I’ve just had a splendid idea,” Janice said, clapping her hands together.

Everyone in the class paused what they were doing and waited for her to go on.

“What is your good idea?” Rhys asked, like he knew that was what he was supposed to ask.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Janice said with a mischievous wink for Early. She stepped back over to Rhys, kissed his cheek, then headed for the door. “Goodbye, all,” she said, waving to the class. “Carry on. Do the very best work you can with what you’ve got.”

Those words definitely felt significant, but before Early could puzzle out what she might mean by them, Janice was gone.

“Apologies for the interruption,” Rhys told his class, his face coloring. “We all know how my mum is.”

“She’s lovely,” Jim said, chuckling. “There’s never a dull moment when Janice is around.”

It was a small interaction, but the reminder that the people standing at the easels staring at them were people, nice people, and not strangers set Early at ease. They could relax and settle in for the rest of their class. Everything else slowly drifted away as the reminder that they were safe, that Hawthorne House was safe, returned.

More than that, they regained the courage to look at Rhys, who now seemed more interested in his painting than in his class. He was definitely working and not just slapping paint on a canvas for the benefit of his students. Early could tell by the concentration that had come into his eyes and the way he really and truly studied them each time he looked up instead of just throwing emotions their way.

It came as a shock when one of the students cleared his throat to draw Rhys’s attention.

“Oh,” Rhys said with a jolt. “Class ended five minutes ago. I’m so sorry for keeping you all here past our time.”

“It’s not a problem, love,” Violet said with a kind smile. “We can all tell your mind is somewhere else today.”

Early got up from the block and threw on their robe without checking to see if Violet was referring to them. They had a feeling several of the older ladies in the class at least had picked up on the undercurrents. Age brought perception, after all.

They were happy to slip into the closet and close the door. Before shrugging out of the robe and dressing, they took a moment to breathe. They’d done it. They’d posed nude for an art class. That was something they could check off their bucket list.

It didn’t feel right dressing in their khakis and button-down, but then, nothing felt right for them anymore. They put their hair back up in a ponytail instead of tucking it away entirely, but that didn’t make things feel right either. They didn’t really want to leave the closet to go back to work, but work was the sort of thing people didn’t have choices about. Especially when the Hawthornes had been so kind to them.

When they opened the door, the classroom was empty, the classroom door was closed, and Rhys was sitting on a stool only a few feet away from the closet. The suddenness of what was bound to be a confrontation had Early flinching.

“Sorry,” Rhys said with a wince. “I probably shouldn’t be up in your face so suddenly like this. I wanted to say a few things before you go back to work, though.”

“Oh?” Early twisted to shut the closet door, then felt supremely awkward as they just stood there. “Okay. I’d like to say a few things, too.”

That seemed to surprise Rhys. “Alright. You go first.”

“I—” Early’s heart started to race, and they came over all hot and cold. They let out a tight breath and said, “That’s not fair.”

Rhys pinched his eyes closed for a moment. “You’re right. This is all my doing. I can’t ambush you like that.” He took a deep breath, then opened his eyes.

And said nothing. He just stared at Early.

The waiting was unbearable. Early couldn’t stand just waiting the way they had been for a second longer. “I’m sorry for being rubbish in bed and for disappointing you,” they burst. “You don’t have to feel bad for wanting nothing to do with me anymore. I shouldn’t have gotten above myself and reached for something I’m not supposed to have, but?—”

Rhys stood there while their mouth was running away with them, and he silenced their babble by clasping their face in both hands, then leaning into kiss them.

The entire world screeched to a halt. Early was so surprised to be kissed that they couldn’t move for a moment, their brain short-circuiting.

Rhys leaned back, gazed into their eyes, then stole a second, lighter kiss. “I’m not disappointed in you,” he said, barely above a whisper. “I could never be disappointed in you. You’re wonderful, and I’ve done a terrible job of letting you know just how wonderful.”

“But I—” Early silenced themself, no idea what to say.

“I’m a mess right now,” Rhys admitted. “I’m letting a lot of things get to me that shouldn’t and I’ve stopped a lot of good things from getting to me that I can see now I need.”

Early could only blink at that.

“I have a lot of amends I need to make to you,” Rhys went on. “But I want to start by saying I’m sorry I lost my temper in your direction over Raina’s jumper. It wasn’t about you, it was about this fundraiser I’m being forced to endure.”

“I—” Again, Early stopped themself. They wanted to say the fundraiser was a nice thing, but they recognized now was not the time.

Rhys lowered his head for a moment before saying, “I need to say I’m sorry for having sex with you without talking about it beforehand.” Color splashed across his face, which only had Early’s heart pounding harder. “That’s not the sort of thing you do for the first time without discussing it first.”

Early suddenly couldn’t catch their breath. “How did you know?”

Rhys blinked. “How did I know what?”

“That it was my first time?”

Rhys’s mouth dropped open, but no sound came out. His eyes went round as well.

“Oh, God, you didn’t know,” they gasped, pulling away from Rhys’s touch. “I’m so embarrassed.”

“No, don’t be.”

Rhys reached for them again, pulling them all the way into his embrace. Early couldn’t figure out if he felt better or infinitely worse enfolded in Rhys’s arms.

No, that wasn’t true. They felt infinitely better.

“We really did mess this whole thing up,” Rhys said, an actual hint of laughter in his voice.

“Yes,” Early spoke, muffled, into his chest.

Rhys stroked their back and kissed the top of their head before nudging them back.

“We need to start this whole thing over,” he said.

“We do?” Early blinked up at him. Rhys was smiling, which gave them hope.

“We definitely do,” Rhys said. He studied Early for a moment before saying, “I’d like to take you out to a nice dinner at a fancy place, a real date.”

Early nearly choked on their shock. They broke into a smile. “Really? Me? You want to take me out on a date to a fancy restaurant?”

“That’s what I just said,” Rhys laughed gently. “Would you be interested?”

“Yes!” Early answered at once.

“Good. Because we have a lot of things we desperately need to talk about, and I want to get things right.”

Early flattened. Rhys wanted to take them out so they could let them down easy.

“No,” Rhys said, as if they’d spoken that thought aloud. “Don’t give me that worried look. I want to take you out on a date because I like you, I’m tired of telling myself I can’t have you, my therapist said yesterday that I need to stop burying everything I feel, and if we’re going to try to move forward, we have to do it the right way.”

They were back to not being able to breathe, so they nodded until they could form words. “Okay.”

“It’s a date, then,” Rhys said.

“It’s a date,” Early repeated.

Maybe they sounded silly, or looked silly or physically felt silly as Rhys hugged them, but they weren’t sure they cared. They had a chance with Rhys, and that was more than they’d thought they’d ever have.