Still Life

By Jaime Samms

When Allan Song’s ex, Mac, shows up to model for the life drawing class Allan teaches, he turns everything upside-down. Mac is still as infuriatingly attractive as when Allan first met him—and still trying to figure out where he fits on the gender spectrum. He’s more than a little out of control, and he’s taken some stupid risks that have come back to haunt him. If they’re going to get back together, Allan wants a real relationship—but for that, he and Mac will need to look below the surface.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
• Release date: Dec 5, 2012
• ISBN: 9781623801021

Jaime Samms

Jaime Samms is a plaid-hearted Canadian who spends the too-long winters writing stories about love between men and the too-short summers digging in the garden. There are dust bunnies in the corners of her house—which she blames on a husky named Kai. There are dishes on the counter—which is clearly because teenagers! There is hot coffee in the pot and the occasional meal to keep her from starving—because her husband is remarkable and patient. A multi-published author whose work has been translated into French, Italian, and German, Jaime delights in the intricate dance of words that leads her through tales of the lost and broken hearted men she writes about to the love stories that find and mend them. And when the muse is being stubborn, she also makes pretty things with yarn and fabric scraps because in her world, no heart is too broken to love, and nothing is too worn or tired it can’t be upcycled into something beautiful. All it takes is determination and the ability to see life a little bit left of center.

Book preview

Prologue

"STOP!" Allen batted his roommate’s hand off his shoulder.

You’re getting that look.

Allen scowled at the textbook on the table in front of him. What look, Mac?

A finger pressed lightly to Allen’s forehead, just above the bridge of his nose and his glasses, prompting him to swat again.

The one that puts this incredibly lickable divot between your brows, turns your lips down at the corners, and tenses your shoulders up until you get a migraine.

You sure you’re straight?

Mac wrinkled his nose and looked away. I was just trying to ease the tension.

Right. That’s why you had your hand over my shoulder and halfway to my chest. I told you to cool it with that shit, straight boy.

It’s only to ease the tension, he insisted.

Go find something to do, please. I have to get this paper done. Mac’s bid to ease the tension was only causing more of it, and not in Allen’s shoulders either. It was getting very hard to ignore his attraction to his supposedly not-gay roommate, and that was just embarrassing.

Mac snarled softly. I thought you handed that in yesterday.

I handed one in yesterday. This one is due on Monday, and I still have to get it in shape. And then type it up. He sighed and once again pushed Mac’s hand out of his shirt. I don’t have time for your brand of bicurious tension relief, dude.

Mac blew a breath out as he trailed his hand off Allen’s shoulder. I think you got that backward, but you know where to find me if you change your mind. His hand lingered at the back of Allen’s neck, soft on the warm patch of skin.

Mac.

Right.

Ten minutes later, Allen’s cell phone beeped. He reached into his backpack for it and glanced at the screen, texted a frowning face back, and hit send before dropping it onto the table. It beeped every five minutes until he turned it off.

Since when don’t you answer your cell? Mac called from the bedroom.

Since my dumbass roommate is being a jerk-off and trying to distract me! He tossed the phone back into his pack and reached for another textbook. He counted six paper airplanes landing on the table, one in his hair, and one in his lap. Probably there were a dozen more peppered over the living room floor.

Mac was a pathetic shot.

Allen ignored them all, though the pink one with the red lip prints smeared across the wings made him smile.

Where’d you get the lipstick? he asked, flattening the plane so the lips matched up again.

My secret stash, Mac rumbled, still from the bedroom.

Allen chuckled, not a bit surprised Mac would keep a souvenir from one of his conquests.

Sunshine streaked across the table by the time Allen looked up again. That meant it was well past lunch, and he still wasn’t satisfied with his draft, though his stomach growled, far beyond caring about anything but a meal.

Who’s the dumbass now? Mac asked, voice gentle as he dropped a plastic plate with a sandwich and handful of potato chips onto the last clear space of table and set a cup of coffee next to it. Eat.

Allen glanced over as he picked up half the sandwich. Nice apron.

You like that?

Allen nodded around the sandwich. That shade of pink goes with your skin tones.

Okay, dude? That is so gay. Mac stalked off, back toward his room, and Allen nearly choked on the bit of bread in his mouth as he got a luscious eyeful of Mac’s bare ass and long, deliciously muscled legs.

And that isn’t? he called after his disappearing friend. "What the fuck, dude?"

Mac just laughed.

It took all the tricks Allen knew to get his mind back on the paper he was trying to finish. It was dry, boring fare.

Nothing like that glimpse of Mac’s ass. Mac’s straight, untouchable ass.

Fuck. Allen pushed his notebook away.

Maybe not fucking the first time, yeah?

What? Allen looked up from where he’d been contemplating the image in his mind to where Mac stood leaning on the door frame of his bedroom. "The. Fuck."

Mac’s face pinked. His expression began to crumble. You hate it?

Allen’s brows shot up. It. Is a dress.

Mac straightened and ran his hands—decidedly delicate ones, Allen suddenly noticed—down the front of the blue sundress he was wearing. You hate—

No! Allen shot out of his chair. I don’t.

Did he?

It… actually… He nodded. It looks good on you. And it did. He never would have pictured his friend in a dress, but here he was in front of him—inescapable—and as objective as he could be about it in this moment, he had to admit Mac was suddenly so very, very Mac. More than he ever had been in the two years they’d known each other.

Yeah?

Yeah. Strangely. He took a moment to just breathe and look. Yeah.

Mac’s bright smile was as wide as ever, but somehow also shy. Thanks.

Yeah. Allen pushed his glasses up his nose. Wait. You’re straight.

Mac’s smile vanished. I’m a lot of things, actually.

Clearly. Allen took a few steps forward. Clearly, I have not been paying attention.

Very clearly. Are you now?

Yeah.

Good. Mac took the last few steps, and then took Allen’s face in both hands and kissed him in a way that definitely could not be ignored. Or mistaken for straight.

When he let him go, Allen’s glasses were perched crookedly on his nose. Mac carefully removed them and set them on the table. You’re not freaked out.

Processing.

Good or bad? Mac studied him, eyes darting over his face, teeth biting inside his lower lip.

Stop that. Allen touched his mouth. Two years, and you’ve been hiding dresses in your closet all this time?

Just the one. Mac’s voice barely rose above a whisper. Just in case, you know?

Allen nodded. You could pass it off as left behind by some chick if I found it.

Mac gave a slight, nodding shrug. Lame, I guess, but—

 Practical. Allen reached over and lifted a bit of the silky skirt between thumb and finger. This was new, this fascination about what was under the filmy material. Not that he hadn’t seen Mac swagger around the apartment enough times buck naked, but this was different. Allen liked men. Always had. Liked the way jeans hugged their ass and cradled their parts, and the way a sweater stretched across broad shoulders… And he liked the way this skirt flirted around Mac’s thighs and hid what Allen knew was under there.

He stepped a little closer, dropping the skirt. Laying his palm flat on Mac’s thigh, he slid it up slowly, watching Mac’s flecked hazel eyes for any sign of discomfort. His fingers encountered lace and a hard bulge beneath. He cupped the delicately wrapped package and squeezed.

Mac’s eyes dropped closed, and his breath sighed out. His hips rocked forward, pushing his dick into Allen’s palm.

You ever been with a guy before? Allen touched his lips to Mac’s throat and kissed his way up.

Not seriously.

Allen leaned back a bit to look into his eyes again. You sure about this?

Very. He sighed again and leaned into Allen’s caresses. I’ve been sure about this for two years. I just didn’t know. He stepped back and spread his arms. I knew with you, it had to be all or nothing. I didn’t want to hide….

Oh.

Now you’re freaked out.

I never thought a guy in a dress would turn me on like this.

Enough to do something about it? Mac moved, boldly spreading his hand over Allen’s own erection, caged in

Reviews for Still Life

[crtsjffrsn · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

Allan isn't quite sure what to think when his ex, Mac, arrives to his drawing class as a model. But what he does know is that Mac is still alluring and intriguing, and Allan might not be anywhere close to over him. But it's not as easy as just deciding to get back together. There's more that they'll have to work through if there's any chance of this working.

I don't have a lot to say about this. It was an okay read, but I also just couldn't get into it as much as I had hoped I might. It was a quick and easy read, so there's that.