I am addicted to reading and MM romance!
My mouth went as dry as if I'd been sucking on sour lemon candies for an hour. I stared at the front door of the shooting range, avoiding looking directly at him. I didn't want to have any concept of Mr. Miggles as, you know, a regular guy, a man, who existed outside the library, who wore regular clothes and incredibly sexy jeans that took ten years off his age.
“I have three things that keep me going. I model for money. I play guitar to satisfy some weird compulsion to help someone I care about who’s always been there for me… and I paint.”
“You said you model for money, play music to help your friend. What does painting do for you?”
He waited a heartbeat before answering. His gaze became noticeably intense. “It’s how I breathe.”
Second, and not unrelated, was that Will mostly said whatever he wanted and considered honesty to be far more important than protecting people’s feelings. When I suggested that sometimes a little white lie was more valuable than telling a truth for no reason other than to pat yourself on the back for being truthful, he said that he categorically refused to take other people’s feelings on as his responsibility. That if he’d let himself choose his words or his actions based on what might or might not hurt or uplift other people he’d never have made it past high school much less in New York.