Mr. Picture Perfect – Spruce Texas Read Online Daryl Banner

Categories Genre: M-M Romance Tags Authors: Daryl Banner Advertisement1

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Or so I read one day while trapped in a rabbit hole.

I realized I hadn’t ventured into any rabbit holes in weeks.

Ever since Cole crashed into me at the festival, in fact.

Maybe I hadn’t had time to. This past month had been filled with such exhilarating new experiences. Cole had kept me busy seeing what life could be like outside the confines of my mind. I’m not even sure whether he realizes the effect he has had on me.

I promised myself to be forever grateful for that.

I told myself I wouldn’t forget the gifts he’d given me, none of which were the kind you could hold with your hands.

They were gifts you keep in your heart.

Gifts that enrich the mind.

Well, perhaps except for the popcorn bucket sitting on my desk, a souvenir from a certain movie we never finished.

I guessed Cole and I would become another unfinished movie.

Would it really be such a bad thing if Cole’s next movie is a total blockbuster hit?

Then I heard the doorbell. It was Cole. I stood at the door to my bedroom as I listened to my mom talk to him. I heard him ask about me. My mom glanced over her shoulder and caught my eye. She seemed to take the hint, because she told him I needed time to rest, that I was overworked, and that my supervisor was a jerk.

None of those facts were inaccurate, technically.

I watched from my window as Cole returned to his car. Then he stopped at the mailbox and peered back at me, as if sensing I was watching him leave.

I fought an instinct to duck under the windowsill, not wanting to be seen. Then I dared myself to stand right there and keep my eyes on him anyway. The blinds were enough to shield his view of me, I was sure, not to mention the glare of the sun off the glass.

But I couldn’t be completely sure.

There was a chance he could see my shape through the glass.

He lifted his hand, as if waving hello to me.

My heart did a somersault. My eyes grew.

Could he really see me, despite the glare? Was I not as hidden as I thought I was?

I lifted my hand, too, as if to wave hello back.

Or maybe I was waving goodbye.

Then he got into his car. My phone buzzed with a message. And then he left at last. I dropped my hand as his car drove away. I left my bedroom and flew out the front door and stood at the foot of my driveway, watching as his car vanished around the bend of the street. I stood there with the wind in my hair, tossing it every direction it pleased, still wearing my clothes from last night, wondering if Cole’s car might circle back.

It was only then I wondered for the first time if I was wrong.

Was I making a huge mistake?

Maybe I was letting go of my only chance at true happiness, of the only person in the whole world who would see me for what I really am, who accepted me without any need to edit myself.

Like a perfectly written first draft. No errors and no revisions required. Sent straight to publish, ready to print as is.

I spent that night in my bedroom, ignoring all calls and texts. My mom brought me a plate of dinner and set it on my nightstand. “You’ve got to eat, baby,” she said so quietly, I barely caught it. “I love you so much, my … my sweet, sweet boy.” She stroked my hair, as I was turned away, cuddled up with a pillow on the bed. After she left, I sat up and nibbled on what I could manage. I was quite hungry, truth be told, and despite my emotional condition, it was rather illogical to starve myself.

Cole sent another text before he went to sleep. I didn’t get the text until three in the morning when I woke up needing to pee. So it was with a full bladder and crusties in my eyes that I sat on the edge of my bed reading his text. I began to type a reply, wishing to set him straight on where my mind was at, to at last “release” him from the obligation of me, and to bid him good luck on the event. After typing a full reply, I stared at the words, rereading them, then frowned. I feared any correspondence at this point would be kicking open the door I was trying to shut. And if he woke up to this on the day of the event, who’s to say how it would affect him? It was perhaps in that very moment, sitting on the edge of the bed, glow of the phone on my face, that I realized how selfish I’d been.


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