Page 10 of Choke Up

The first semester assignment for my studio art class is to create something that represents who I am, using any medium I choose. I'm excited that it's such an open project, because I don't typically plan my art. I like instinct and inspiration to guide me. Usually, it starts with a sketch, but for this piece, I decided to start with paint and let the inspiration take me. It has potential, I think, but it's got a long way to go.

I'm buzzing by the time I pack up my supplies and leave the studio. This is what I love about art. Feeling the potential of a piece and that excitement of having no idea where it could lead. The bone deep desire to dive into it and live there, to not come up for air until you're forced. It's walking away that's hard. Having to paint on a schedule actually might be a good thing for me, otherwise I'd probably forget to eat, sleep, or go to class.

My fingers are still itching for the brush, rubbing together as I walk across campus, still lost in my project in my head. I love coming up with plans for all the different things I want to do to the canvas, even if most of the time they never come to fruition because it can change on a whim. I'm never in charge of my art, but I love the way I can abandon expectations and reality when I give into whatever inspiration is driving me. I've always wished I could be that free in everything else I do.

At some point, I end up at my favorite spot in the library, although I was barely aware of the walk here. After I get settled into the worn grey leather armchair and organize my books and homework on the small table, I stare out the window at the darkening campus below. Few people spend much time on the third floor where the old microfiche and periodicals are kept, so it's always quiet up here, but the library is pretty empty as a whole. I suppose most people are getting started on their Labor Day weekend celebrations. Which reminds me that I haven't returned any messages. Predictably, most of them are from my brother. He mentions sleeping on his couch if I don't want to worry about walking across campus after or waking up my roommate. Honestly, that's probably the most convincing thing anyone's said to get me to go. Except what if Gabe brings a girl back to the dorm and I have to see them together? Or worse, what if I have to listen to him have sex with someone?

"There you are."

I let out a very manly shriek and come up off the chair, which makes Ivy snort.

"You can't sneak up on me like that!"

She laughs. "To be fair, I texted you and called your name several times."

Ivy was the one that told me about this hidden spot that I've adopted as my own. She knows I come here most nights to avoid my roommate.

"I was just now getting caught up with my messages. I've been in the studio."

"I see that," she says, pointing out the smears of paint on my arms and clothes. It's not an uncommon look for me. At home, I have a favorite pair of sweatpants and a crop top I like to wear, but I'm not secure enough to wear it out. Especially after Brad’s reaction.

"You looked troubled," she says. "What's going on with you?"

"Nothing. I'm fine. Just lost in thought, I guess."

The deadpan look she gives me lets me know I'm not fooling her, but it's not like I can tell anyone. Hell, I don't even know how to articulate the problem.

What am I supposed to say?

Oh, I was just thinking about my brother's best friend that I've been in love with for probably half my life and can't stop obsessing about even though I have a very sweet, caring, ripped, ridiculously hung guy that I've been chatting with. Only he's super closeted and can't even let me know who he is or what he looks like. It's probably not going to go anywhere, but I'm okay with it because I've basically been using him to explore an entirely different side of myself. Except now that I've untapped the slut in me, sex is all I can think about and now I'm even more worried that my crush will be obvious and I'll either embarrass myself or break my own heart. Which is inevitable anyway, because he's super straight and thinks of me like an annoying little brother. And I can't so much as go to a party because I'm afraid I'll see him being his usual gorgeous, very straight, manwhore self. I thought I could get him out of my mind, but even with the distraction of JOHNNY, classes, and an asshole roommate, I can't fucking escape the torment of wanting him.

Yeah, no.

She sighs heavily and sits in the seat across from mine. "I know we don't know each other that well yet, but you can talk to me."

I give her a weak smile. Honestly, I'd love to talk to someone, but I don't trust myself to know when to stop talking. Once I open my mouth, I give too much away. And I'm not ready for my brand-new friend to realize just how much of a loser I am. I don't think I can look in someone's face and lay out all these feelings without losing what little respect I have for myself.

"I matched with someone on Howler," I blurt, giving her my second biggest issue to cover my biggest weakness.

Ivy gasps and pulls her legs up under her slim body and leans forward with her chin on her fists. "Tell me ev-er-y-thing," she demands. She doesn’t even wait for me to get words out before she points out that I'm blushing. Of course, once it's pointed out, it just gets worse, and it doesn't even have to do with Johnny. I'm just embarrassed at being embarrassed.

"Holy shit, he must be really fucking hot."

"I mean, the parts I've seen are?—"

"What do you mean parts?!" she shrieks, too loudly for a library. Luckily, there's no one up here.

"Will you calm down?!" I whisper-yell at her.

"Absolutely out of the question," she says, but composes herself before quietly demanding that I tell her everything.

I wasn't planning on telling her everything. I honestly thought telling her I matched with someone would distract her, and then I'd turn it around on her so she could tell me some of her hilarious hookup stories. But she's keen on my deception, and I end up spilling everything about Johnny, except for the part where I fantasize that he’s my brother’s best friend.

"…I realize it's a little weird that he's choosing to remain anonymous, but I kind of prefer it this way. I'm a lot braver anonymously." I laugh sardonically, feeling dumb. "Somehow, I find it easier to send a stranger a picture of my body than I would sending one of my face."

I'm expecting her to be appalled, or to caution me about sending dick pics to an anonymous stranger. But she surprises me. "That makes total sense to me, actually. The anonymity is giving you the freedom to try on a new persona, come out of your shell a little bit. You've never let yourself explore this side of yourself before, I say do it."

"You don't think I'm an idiot that's falling into some kind of predator's trap?" I can just see my mother crying that I'm going to be on Dateline.

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