My next hour passed working on the shadows, giving the picture more background details and depth. I lifted my eyes to the screen when a more interesting scene played, offered my comments for the second movie, Tremors, as well, but I always returned to the picture under my fingers.

By the time Val discovered a Ford buried in the ground, I was finished. The picture became a fusion of Kade from now and then. I was happy with every line and shadow, every wrinkle and background detail.

I looked at Kade and smiled, remembering the popcorn crumb stuck in the crease of his white button-up shirt before he stood to switch the movies. It looked so cute I had to include it in this drawing, even though Kade in the picture wore a dark T-shirt instead.

“Hey, you're not working anymore,” my muse noticed.

I loved that Kade referred to me drawing as working even though I hadn't earned a penny with my drawings yet. Hearing it motivated me to turn it into reality someday soon.

“Yeah, I've finished for tonight.” A few popping sounds followed as I stretched myself, bones locked from sitting in the same position for too long.

“Come here. You must be tired.” Kade got comfortable in his corner of the couch and opened his arm for me to join him.

“In a sec. I need to wash my hands.”

Most of my fingertips were smudged from working on the background shadows. I used tortillons and blending stumps for other sketchbooks, but for the Kade book, I preferred to use my fingers whenever possible. This felt more intimate—my fingers touching Kade’s lines instead of some twisted paper.

A yawn escaped my lips as I returned and plopped on the couch next to him.

“Don't worry, I'm not gonna fall asleep just yet,” I commented, seeing Kade’s amused smile and reading his mind.

“Of course not. It's still thirty minutes early.” Ha, ha. Not funny. “Can I see?” my muse asked, referring to the book.

He definitely could. Always. I leafed to the page I worked on and passed the book to Kade, then rested my head on his shoulder. The picture really looked good. More vibrant, alive.

“Ah, I remember this one. You've improved it. Nice job. Wait, I take it back. That popcorn crumb ruins the whole picture.” Kade nudged me. “You could have warned me to brush it off.”

“Nah, I find it extremely cute. This picture is perfect now.”

“That crumb makes it all perfect?” Kade sounded skeptical.

“Yep,” I said happily. This feeling of lightness and fulfillment after finishing drawing my muse, I had missed it so much.

“You have an interesting sense of art.”

“That shouldn't be news to you.”

“True,” he conceded.

Kade noticed fairly early on that perfection of a drawing in my eyes was quite different to his. I focused on the projection of feelings the picture was supposed to convey. Sometimes, the more accurate details the picture entailed, the more emotion and depth it could store. Kade's focus was more on visual beauty. I think I was slowly broadening his horizons by teaching him to see the true beauty in insignificant details and imperfections. It was a work in progress.

“Hmm … This is good. I missed this.” I was comfortably resting against my muse with our legs stretched out on the table, Kade's arm around me, my hand on his thigh.

“Me too.” He pecked the top of my head.

Even though the itch in my fingers was sated temporarily, my mind already considered several options for Kade to pose next while Val ran for the bulldozer on the screen. I should definitely draw his back next. Which position should I have him in, though? Walking, doing push-ups, something else? Hmm … Decisions, decisions …

My mind imagined drawing the lines of Kade's back muscles. Each stroke of a pencil—a direct touch to his skin. Kade lying on his chest, his powerful back towards me, head resting on his locked hands, looking back at me …

A movement brought me back from my musings and I realized I had closed my eyes for a second. Everyone on the screen was trapped on the rocks, with Fred preparing to throw the pipe bomb. Oops, maybe for more than a second … I sighed and enjoyed Kade's hand caressing my stomach.

“Should we call it a night, sleepyhead?” I felt him murmur into my hair.

“But I haven't seen Goodfellas in a long time,” I complained half-heartedly. I wasn't asleep, I was just resting my eyes!

“We can watch it tomorrow, or rather today afternoon. Let's go to bed. The couch is not fit for sleeping.”

Exactly! Why did you buy it, buddy?

“Hmm,” I agreed, suppressing a grumble. It was his own fault for getting a couch that wasn’t long enough to stretch in.

Now that we were on the subject of sleeping, it was time for me to finally draw Kade in his sleep. I had the urge to draw him sleeping many times but resisted as drawing him unconscious seemed too personal. It was time to ask for Kade's permission. I needed to have such an important moment cataloged in my Book.

A brush against my forehead brought me back from my thoughts. I felt Kade's fingers massage my scalp. Nice. This was what I called paradise.

“Ev, let's go.”

“Huh?” I noticed the TV was turned off upon opening my heavy eyelids.

Had I dozed off again?

“Bed. Sleep. Let's go,” Kade urged and sat up slowly, forcing me to move with him as I rested against his shoulder.

“What time is it?” I stood and shuffled to the bedroom with heavy feet, Kade walking closely behind me.

“A little past two.” He directed me towards the bed, knowing from experience I was about to fall asleep standing. Well, if it was that late, then it wasn't surprising. “Get yourself comfortable.”

“Mhm …” Getting into the bed for more shuteye sounded wonderful, no argument there.

Since the switch of the darned couch, I had slept in Kade's bed quite a few times. Usually dragging my feet to it after watching some movies, exactly like this time.

Little did I know that after this night I’d start frequenting Kade’s bed much more often.