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“Thanking me? For what?”
“All of that stuff you just talked in circles about regarding my model?” I wink at him. “I know it’s your way of complimenting me and our work. So that’s why I’m thanking you. I appreciate it.”
He stares at me, dull-eyed. “Well, if it was a direct, plainly-stated compliment you wanted, I think that’s ridiculous. Your work is obviously phenomenal and I’m mad jealous of your talent and always have been. And I might have gone a step too far, saying what I said about your father and your … quaint, rundown little building you call home. Though, I might still argue that it is certainly not where you will be living forever.” He nods at me. “You, my old friend, are destined for greater, greater things. This gallery? Enchaîné? It’s just the first step.”
I put a hand on his shoulder, which seems to equally surprise him, offend him, and excite him all at once. “I hope someday we can see eye-to-eye again, you and I. Thanks for your honesty.”
“Honesty is sharp. It isn’t meant to be nice.” He squirms a bit underneath my hand, then says, “And thank you for … for being so … you. I do miss our collaborations.”
I smile. “Me too, old friend.”
With that, Leo dismisses himself to tend to a crowd forming around his own piece, which is in a far less prominent area of the gallery, surprisingly. I turn my full attention back to Tye, who continues to bask in the spotlight he so deserves.
And maybe that’s really been my fear all along, the “honest” thing that Leo was so quick to point out to me: Tye would someday no longer be mine. The modeling world will take him away. Another better photographer. Life itself, and all its endless possibilities. He’s young. He has experiences that need to be had, and I don’t know if it’s with me that he’ll have them.
Maybe I was just the first step, for him to find his true place in life. Maybe that’s enough for me.
20
“Your show was so amazing!” cries Connor. “Even though I think I spoke three words to you, Dante, since you were always surrounded by tons of people. But dang, there were so many tied-up hotties in that building, I couldn’t even count ‘em!”
His boyfriend Alan laughs at his side. “Sounds like someone here is inspired to do something a little fun later tonight …”
“Hey, I’m not sayin’ I wouldn’t try any of that kinky stuff …”
I glance off from them and peer into the crowd of folk who have come to my apartment after the show for an impromptu “after party” thing. I see Brett and his boyfriend Skylar hanging with a few of their friends. I even spot Leobardo, who came despite claiming to have “so many other very, very important things to do after the show”, talking to a few other photographers who joined him, glasses of wine in their hands. Everyone else is a mishmash of people from the show, faces and gorgeous bodies and a lot of people I don’t know.
Except for Tye, who is (still) surrounded by people who desperately want to get to know him. If I had to guess, I’d say his phone is probably filling up with ten new contacts a minute. He’s going to be booked from now until the end of the year, full of photographers with their own visions, fantasies, and projects they know Tye would be perfect for.
Of course he’d be perfect in their projects.
He’s perfect for anything.
It’s well into the early morning hours when the last guests leave, and then it’s just me and Tye in a silent apartment, slowly cleaning things up and taking glasses to the sink.
“Look at us,” teases Tye. “Cleaning up your pad like a pair of roomies.”
Just the sound of his voice reveals how high on life he is tonight. “I appreciate it.”
“I’ve just spent so much time here over the past few weeks,” he reasons, “it feels so natural. Like … our partnership, or whatever we want to call it. Are we collaborators? Coworkers? … Partners …?”
I snort. “Until I put a ring on you, I wouldn’t go telling anyone we’re partners just yet.”
His cheeks are enflamed at once. “I didn’t, uh, mean to …” He shakes his head, winces, then turns back to the sink, rinsing out a glass. “Never mind.”
I chuckle, then eye him. “You were on fire.”
“Yeah?” He turns and leans back against the counter, folding his arms. “I can’t even describe … how this feels. I’ve been on edge all night. I don’t know half the crap that flies out of my mouth. It feels like just yesterday, I was questioning what was wrong with me, why I liked what I liked, and how in the hell I was going to find happiness. And now …” He snorts and shakes his head in disbelief. “I don’t know how I feel about it, honestly. It’s so weird, to have so many people … looking at me.”
