Vex sighed, and I knew the exact expression he wore because I’d seen it so many times before: bridge of his nose pinched between his fingers, his brow crinkled, and his lips pressed thin.
“You are far too young to be spending a Saturday night deep-cleaning your apartment,” he said.
“Oh, so you want me to do an age-appropriate activity?” A smirk pulled at my lips, and I bit the inside of my cheek to hold in the laugh trying to bubble up in my chest. “Fine, I’ll go scroll social media. That’s what all the kids are doing these days, isn’t it?”
“And you poke fun at Felix for sounding like an old man,” Vex said, his tone as mocking as my own.
“I guess I’ll just doomscrollinstead of doomclean,” I muttered. I snatched my phone off the counter and crossed to the living room to drop onto the couch with a grunt. “At least doomcleaningis productive.”
The tone of our conversation softened from there. I pulled out my laptop and scrolled, and Vex poked and prodded at all the little worries burrowed under my skin like an itch I couldn’t scratch hard enough. Where I would live when I went home, how I could avoid moving back in with my parents even though they’d already offered, how people would react to seeing me again after seven years of absence. If I would feel out of place there, or like I’d never left, and which was preferable.
About the time the conversation got heavier than I wanted it to be, a bright splash of color ground my scrolling to a halt.Queer individuals wanted for stranger sessions, the ad said. I swiped through a few of the ad’s photos, each showcasing a different couple, all crackling with chemistry.
It was hard to believe they were strangers.
“Wait,” I chimed in, interrupting whatever Vex had been saying. “I found what the kids areactuallydoing these days! Taking pictures with random people.” I shot him a message with the ad attached.
There were a few moments of silence on the other end of the line while he presumably read over the ad as well. The caption gave more details: the photographer, Sadie, would select two people to throw together in a single photoshoot, sight unseen. An exploration of intimacy among strangers.
“You should apply,” Vex said finally. “Maybe it’s time for you to dip your toe back into the social scene. Meet someone.”
I groaned. “What’s the point? I’ll be gone in a few months.”
“Exactly. It’s the perfect, low-pressure way to get back on the horse without feeling the need to put down roots and look for something long-term. Besides, just because it’s a couple’s session doesn’t mean you ever need to see the other person again after the shoot. And”—I could hear the smile in his voice—“it sounds like fun. You’reoverdue for some fun.”
He was right. But even as I acknowledged that, I was trying to talk myself out of it. To think up excuses to stay in my safe little burrow and hide from the possibilities out in the world.
“Maybe,” I conceded at length. “I’ll think about it.”
“Promise?” Vex pressed.
“Pinkie promise.”
Satisfied at last, Vex finally got to the point of his call. He gave me a quick run-down of updates from our friends, and lamented about his most recent conversation with his mother, which had ended about as badly as the one before it. I offered, as I always did in these situations, to talk to my parents about adopting him. It was enough to get a chuckle out of him, at least.
And then we were saying goodnight, and the quiet of my apartment rushed in to fill the space where his voice had been.
I went back to the ad and clicked the application link. A quick scan found the expectedabout mequestions, along with places to specify romantic preferences to make sure the matches were made appropriately.
I closed my computer with a snap and set it on the coffee table. I couldn’t break a pinkie promise to Vex, so Iwouldthink about it. That didn’t mean the thinking needed to take place staring at a screen. Baking always helped to clear my head, so strawberry cupcakes were in order while I muddled through my feelings about applying.
I went back and forth with myself as I scooped and measured and mixed and dropped liners into each well of my cupcake pan. My last relationship left me wary of opening myself up again, but Vex was right: the stakes couldn’t be lower. I’d have to spend a few hours with the guy, and it could end there. It didn’t need to go past that. Add in that it had been a long time since I’d held anyone’s hand, or been pulled close and tucked up against someone’s chest, and I was desperate enough for physical affection that the idea was looking better by the moment.
Once the pan was in the oven, I returned to my laptop and opened the application again. Several minutes lapsed while I stared at it some more, then shot Vex a text for help describing myself before I could change my mind. When all the fields were complete, I spent several more minutes sitting with my cursor hovering over thesubmitbutton before I finally clicked it and let out a rush of breath.
I might not even get selected. The KC Metro was huge, and I must be one of many who threw their hats into the ring. But maybe I’d get lucky.Maybe I’d get picked and have fun and get some beautiful photos out of it.
And if I wasreallylucky, maybe I’d even make a new friend.
Or maybe something more.
CHAPTER 02: ZEKE
Some days, sitting on a stool in the middle of Maura Solomon’s kitchen could be almost as good as a therapy session. As soon as she swung the salon cape around my shoulders and started trimming, she would get quiet and let me vent. I’d chase verbal circles around both of us until I talked myself into a solution for whatever problem was foremost on my mind, and when I left to go back across the hall, it was with newfound peace and a fresh haircut.
Todaywasn’tone of those days.
Though, in her defense, evenIfound myself insufferable when I got so mired in misery borrowed from things that hadn’t even happened yet.
