DEADLY SEVEN

DEADLY SEVEN - .TWO.

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.TWO.

PRESENT DAY, Seattle

"HOLD STILL!" Galileo seethed as he squints his eyes to focus both on his realistic sketch and to the model in front of him, who is currently wearing only a pair of black boxer briefs. "I can't draw your right nipple right!"

The model glared at him. "I'm getting tired, 'ya know?"

Galileo looked up from his sketch and fixed his big-ass square-shaped glasses and gave a deadpan face. "Well it's not my fault that you volunteered for this! I even recorded you saying: 'I'm it for it, Gallo; I'll model for you if that's what you want. Anytime.' And now I want you to hold still because I need this nearly-nude art for my art project!"

"I didn't say—"

Galileo nonchalantly played a voice record from his phone to cut off the man's childish retorts and tantrums: "I'm it for it Gallo; I'll model for you if that's what you want. Anytime."

The hunk rolled his eyes while the sketcher focused his attention on his drawing.

"Why the hell did you record my voice?!" he demanded.

The stud stopped from shading the nipple and looked up dead serious. The big guy gulped. He should've known better than to question the artistic and stealthy skills of the boy.

"For safety and emergency purposes . . . such as this." He cleverly pointed their current situation.

Damon rolled his eyes.

"Did you just roll your eyes at me?"

"Uhh . . . no?" Galileo raised a brow. "I was just, uh, checking if my eyebrows are still there." And the model rolled his eyes to check. "Yep. They're still there!"

"Damon, stop playing around and please, for the love of Stephanie—"

"Who the hell is Stephanie?"

"—just be serious for once." He finished like he wasn't interrupted by his topless friend. He continued to shade his work.

"Well, I can be serious."

"Good," Galileo said, not even looking up, too busy and focused to master the shading of his friend's nipple. "Dammit!" he cursed under his breath when he failed to make it realistic. Again.

"I mean, I was serious thirty minutes ago!"

"Awe, what happened?" Galileo mockingly asked, as if he was interested in hearing his endless complains about how cold his rooms is and how he is getting tired posing for him. And when his oblivious friend opened his mouth to—as what Galileo predicted—complain, the sketcher raised a palm. "You know what? Never mind, I don't care."

"Well, I wouldn't complain if you at least let me wear my shirt!" And he cursed at the surging cold. He tried to cover his naked torso with his bulky arms. "You don't even turn your heater on, cheap!"

Galileo shook his head in disappointment. He thought his best friend's brain is as good as his looks, clearly he was mistaken.

"Don't you know what they all say?" His friend gave him a puzzled look and Galileo could only huff. "'With great power, comes great electricity bills,' duh?"

"Right."

"Oh my god! Why aren't your nipples erect? Shouldn't they be hard since my room is cold AF?"

Damon shrugged nonchalantly. "They got tired so . . ."

"Then pinch 'em! I can't draw a flat, flaccid nipple!"