Suddenly, an idea popped into my head like it had been placed there by a god. The idea was too good to be my own — the deities of fashion design must have slid it into my mind through my ear.
I scribbled furiously, weaving together themes and ideas. The tarot cards I’d picked up from Vikka’s flower shop fanned across my desk, each one looking slightly macabre.
Time ticked by, and I was riding the flow of inspiration like a wave. It was at moments like these, and when I was in Adam’s arms that I was truly happy.
Midway through the class, Professor King started to walk carefully among the rows of students.
My eyes were glued to my page. I was busy coming up with designs, so I didn’t see her until she was right on top of me.
I looked up at her face, breaking my concentration.
Her sand-colored eyes flicked down to my drawing pad, and her lips pursed together.
But I saw it.
There was a flash in her eyes, a subtle opening of the lids as she took in what I was drawing.
It was genuine excitement.
She raised her head gracefully and left, the ghost of a smile lifting the corners of her mouth.
I was over the moon. I thought this idea was fantastic, and apparently, she did, too. That validation only fueled my creative engine even more.
For the first time, I finished all of my work early. There was still a half-hour left in the class, so I used the time to review what I had drawn.
Pages and pages of sketches filled my drawing pad, and I smiled as I flicked through them. There was a drawing based on The Fool tarot card, which was a nearly nude, slim female form clad in a sheer nude slip, with ropes artfully draped around her body. Her hair would be loose like she was fresh and new, naive.
Just like me.
Another drawing depicted a design based on my Queen of Wands card. I’d done some quick phone research on that one last night since it showed up in my reading. It meant “domination.”
I loved it.
So I designed a red dress with a thick, voluminous skirt and chains draped delicately on the sides. The sides of the bodice opened up to expose the model’s skin, but some straps attached the front to back like fabric ribs. Silver studs dotted along them like long ellipses.
It reminded me of one of Adam’s Dom outfits.
Those were only two of the design ideas I’d come up with — in total, I’d drawn fifty. Throughout those fifty sketches, I’d successfully combined Tarot with a distinct BDSM style.
“Excellent, Mr. DuPont,” Professor King stated from behind me.
I jumped a little, surprised that she was still lurking.
“You’ve outdone yourself. Rarely do I see a student get it on the first try.”
“Th-thank you,” I said, feeling pride course through me.
“I look forward to seeing what you do with this. It’s quite an outstanding idea. I’m afraid execution might be a little more difficult for you.”
I tried not to let my expression shine through. What was that supposed to mean?
Then she drifted away, her posture as straight and graceful as a ballerina’s.
When I got home later that night, my mood was considerably lighter. The constant trembling that was continuously vibrating deep in my body felt muted. Still there, but muted.
Today was one of my longer days — where my last class ended at seven, well after the sunset. So when I walked into the house, Adam was already there.
“Adam!!” I cried out when I stepped through the threshold.
“I’m up here, babe!” he called from the top of the stairs.
Even though neither of us had forgotten the fight we had last night, I shelved it for a moment. Adam and I were together again, and I would cherish it.
I walked past the playroom and thumped up the stairs.
Every day when I came home, I was so grateful that Adam was still there. I knew there was always a chance he wouldn’t come home; a chance he’d gotten hurt.
But when I entered our living room, I saw the proof right there that he was okay. He was sprawled out on our leather couch in a pair of jeans and a tight black turtleneck that clung to his superman-shaped body in just that way.
“I missed you so much,” I said, flinging myself into his warm arms.
All of a sudden, that fight we had last night didn’t seem to matter all that much. My warm need for him replaced my anger. This was the type of need that was the siamese twin of my anxiety.
In my anxiety’s absence, the need took hold.
“Luke!” Adam said, getting up off the couch to hug me.
Every time we reunited like this, there was a solid feeling deep inside of me. I knew on a deep level that I belonged here in Adam’s arms. The circumstances around us didn’t matter — it didn’t matter if we were still in the small town, or New York City, or wherever. As long as I had Adam by my side, I was happy.
He squeezed me, wrapping his big, muscular arms around my body.
I felt the warmth of my engagement ring on my finger, like it was glowing whenever I hugged Adam like this.
Once I pulled away, I sat on the couch next to him and told him about my day.
When I finished, I asked how his went.
“Oh, it was fine,” he said evasively.
I sensed a cold wind stirring the grass. We were teetering on the edges of that fight we had last night.
“What happened?” I asked, trying to keep the suspicion out of my voice.
“Today? Nothing, it was a normal day,” he said.
I could tell he was lying. He was doing it to protect me, I was sure.
I looked into his deep green eyes sadly, wondering why he felt the need to hide things from me.
“So, that sounds
