Painted Lace - K.M. Neuhold Page 0,2

sound of agreement when she tells me it’s a six to close shift. I take a second to figure out what day of the week it is, and grin when I realize it’s Friday. Close down the bar on a Friday night? My bank account will absolutely thank me for that.

“You got it,” I agree. “Thanks for thinking of me.”

“Any time. And I’ll remind you, for the dozenth time, that if you ever want a regular spot on my schedule, the option is on the table.”

I grunt in response, because that’s more polite than telling her hell to the fucking no. We’ve had this conversation too many times already, and she knows where I stand on the whole idea of having somewhere I have to be every single week. Just the thought of it makes my skin crawl.

I thank her again and we say our goodbyes. I finish off the joint and drag my ass out of bed so I can take a piss and see what I have in the kitchen.

I pause as I pass through my living room on my way to the kitchen, taking a second to admire the painting I was up until five in the morning working on. My skin is still itchy with dried paint and my body is a little stiff from painting for nearly thirteen hours yesterday, but the final product is something to be proud of.

A spot where the shading isn’t quite right catches my eye, and my fingers twitch for my paintbrush. But I force myself to resist. If I get in the zone now, I’m liable to forget to go to my bar shift in a few hours. The shading can wait until I get home around three a.m.

The cupboards are pretty bare. Good thing Lacy called today. I grab some bread that’s not too stale and a nearly empty jar of peanut butter to make a sandwich, taking it to the living room to eat.

My couch sags a bit when I sit down, but it was free so I’m not going to complain. I know my life might not look entirely glamorous from the outside, but stale sandwiches aside, it makes me happy. I have my art, I have a roof over my head, and I have my freedom. What else could a person want?

Chapter 2

Austin

I’ve been staring at the M4M app in the app store on my phone for at least half an hour. The very first review for the app is from someone with the username Rebound who declares the app to be the best thing that’s ever happened to him. I hold my snort in check. Getting laid is the best thing that’s ever happened to this guy?

Still, maybe Luke’s right. It probably wouldn’t kill me to let loose a little bit. Before I can spend any more time overthinking it, I hit the button to download the app. It pops open as soon as it’s installed, inviting me to create a profile. I type in my information, opting to use my own name rather than anything clever, and snap a quick selfie to use for the profile picture. I frown at the semi-blurry picture and take a few more before I’m satisfied with the result. The next question draws me up short. “What are you looking for?”

What am I looking for? There’s a list of options—friendship, casual, relationship. I frown, my finger hovering over the choices. How can I say I want a relationship without knowing the potential men available for the position? Friendship seems like the wrong message to send since I am hoping for sex if the right partner presents themselves. Casual doesn’t feel exactly right either, if only because I’ve never been a casual kind of guy. And I don’t just mean with relationships. Casual, laidback, go with the flow—these words are not exactly part of my vocabulary. But maybe that’s the whole point? I’m supposed to be shaking things up.

I click casual and move on to fill out the rest of the information.

Once my profile is complete, it sends me to a list of active men nearby. My eyes bulge at some of the images that fill my screen. There seems to be a large amount of muscular, oiled up men in my area. Although, if I had to guess, at least fifty percent of them are not correctly representing their own body type.

I look down at my own skinny, yet somewhat doughy form, and frown. This is why I