On Friday morning Tab felt…oddly at a loose end without the portrait to do. It was in Yvonne’s office now, framed and ready to go up at the exhibition. Tab wouldn’t see it again until then.
Demi was being all sweet and encouraging, telling him to just ask Nick flat-out and get it over with and he’s not gonna belt u one, tabby, u’ll be fine, promise! It was nice, Tab supposed, but it still hurt. He didn’t want to pick one over the other.
Maybe he could have both, he thought wildly as he doodled a morose peanut comic. It really was suicidal this time, trying to jump off that suspension bridge in Bristol. Because the peanut knew—just as much as Tab did—that there was no way he was going to win.
“Hey.”
Tab jumped, dropping his pencil, and flushed as he looked up into Nick’s face calmly reg
