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A little more than two weeks have passed since the day I asked Foster to assist me in my art theory project. Today, he’s stopping by my apartment for me to make a mold of his chest and shoulders as part of the installment to later be casted and painted.
Due to his ridiculously busy schedule and my own, most of our conversations of science, human anatomy, and simplistic elemental theories have been through texts and emails with minimal face-to-face time between his classes and activities. We’ve also had a few late-night sessions, but those were more of the social nature. Sometimes, it’s best to let the body rather than the mind lead toward one’s needs.
Noticing the time, I close a fictional telling of Van Gogh’s childhood, a book that I’ve been combing through for minute details to finalize my art history thesis. My advisor suggested I give it a look before turning in my paper for another round of critiques. I’ve found a few obscure details about the man’s life to add to my paper but nothing profound, and I plan to turn in my final findings within the next month.
Crossing the threshold of my bedroom, I enter into the kitchen where Chandra and Jeremy are reading silently next to one another at the bar. Now that the hustle and bustle of the start of the term has settled, he’s been over more often, and my roommate has never been so content.
“Hey,” Chandra says, placing her book on the counter. “I didn’t know you were here. I thought it was your studio time now.”
“It is,” I respond, filling a glass with water. “Foster is coming by though for mold-making. I thought it would be best to do it here rather than in a space with tons of people.”
“That makes sense. He might not be comfortable with standing half-naked in front of a bunch of strangers.”
I smile to myself at the thought of Foster without his shirt on. There certainly is something enjoyable about the image. “My thoughts exactly.”
She straightens in her seat, giving a sidelong glance to Jeremy, who appears to be consumed in his book, not paying attention to us. “Do you need any help?”
“Nah.” I sip the water. “I’m doing a simple one-step plaster. It should go pretty smoothly and only take about forty-five minutes. Easy-peasy.”
She disengages herself from the stool, rounds the small countertop dividing us, and joins me within the small kitchen space. Gently grabbing my elbow, she leads me toward the other side of the room, out of Jeremy’s earshot.
“What’s going on?” Chandra asks, her voice hushed.
“Huh?” I question, resting my drink on the counter.
“Are you two dating?”
“Who?”
“You and this Foster guy. I get that he’s helping you with your work, but you two have been spending a lot of time together lately.”
“Is that a problem?” I ask, feeling defensive and caught off guard.
“Of course it isn’t. You’ve just been so vague about him, and he’s not in any of your classes, so it’s a little odd to me that he would be modeling for you. I was just wondering if something was going on.”
“I work with the guy. We’re friends. He’s helping me out as a friend. That’s all.”
“Okay…” She gives me a look of surrender. “But I know you’re sleeping with him. You aren’t as sneaky as you think.”
I exhale, dropping my hands to my thighs. “Go ahead and give me the lecture. I know you want to.”
“No lecture. You can sleep with whomever you want. I’m just wondering if there’s a reason you aren’t telling me about what’s going on.”
I peek in Jeremy’s direction, confirming that he’s paying us no mind. “We’re fucking, all right? Happy?”
“Do you even like him?”
“Of course I do, but…we’re just…”
“Just what?”
“It’s…I don’t know. He’s my friend. It’s not the kind of relationship you’re trying to insinuate. I didn’t want to put a label on it. Plus, it’s crude to call him my fuck buddy.”
“Why? That’s what you two are, right? Fuck buddies?”
“I guess.” I shrug, averting my focus to the top of the glass where the non-rippling water lies still in the perfect shape of a circle, constricted and in control.
Chandra takes a step back, examining me for more than a comfortable moment, drilling me with uninhibited judgment. “I know that look.”
