Page 47 of Refraction

“We sure just found each other, didn’t we? I’ve never done this before, so we’ll have to work out the boundaries and shit together.” He thought that was doable.

“I’ve tried a few times. I’m not very good at it.” Calvin didn’t sound serious, but he didn’t sound so not-serious either. “I had the whole—well, I shouldn’t bug him but what if he thinks that means I’m not thinking about him and what if he’s not texting me for the same reason and why the hell didn’t we discuss this thing. I did the right thing not bugging you, right?”

“You bug me when you need to. I was going to text you, but I didn’t want to get you in trouble or interrupt your rest.” He grinned over, rubbed their noses together. “And if you interrupt the work, you have to expect the crazy that leaks out, that’s all.”

“I’m off for two days. I could hang out tomorrow so I know what kind of crazy I’m in for.” Calvin poked his nose.

“Mmm. I’d love that. I want to show you how the light looks at 5:00 p.m. from the table.”

“As soon as I can move, I’m going to look at what you’ve done so far. I was already admiring this weirdness.” Calvin pointed to the likeness of him on the wall by the bed. “I’m not sure how I feel about that.”

He looked at the sketch. “I was thinking about you. I love the curve of your jaw.”

“Thanks, but… now I’m looking at myself naked.” Calvin snorted. “I don’t think I like it. I’m not that kind of model. Don’t waste your time on sketching me. You have real work.”

“It’s not like that.” He drew what he drew, and Calvin rang in his soul. “It’s not ugly.”

Tucker had drawn Calvin as he was.

Calvin shrugged. “It’s too… close. I don’t like it.”

“Okay.” He didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t expect that anyone would like his drawings or not. That way lay madness.

“Okay, good. So no more drawing me.” Calvin kissed his chest and settled against him again.

He didn’t answer. That would be a lie if he agreed. That was okay. He didn’t have to share his levels of fascination. He stroked Calvin’s back and looked out the window at the ghost lights bouncing along the glass.

“Michael sent my portfolio with the shots we took to Calvin Klein.”

“Yeah?” He knew that one, so it had to be big. “That’s exciting. What happens next?”

“He says they narrow it down to a few models, and then we come in and do an audition. Like a sample shoot. He says he’s so sure I’ll get the audition that he’s already cleared my calendar and saved the date.” Calvin rolled over and looked at him, green eyes lighting up. “It’s a centerfold spread and the cover… it’s a huge career boost.”

“Oh, wow. Is that here, or do you go somewhere neat?”

“I’d probably split my time between here and LA, but… oh. Well, I don’t know, I guess.” Calvin sighed.

“What, honey? You okay?” He wasn’t sure what was wrong, but he could listen.

“Oh, I’m fine. I’m just thinking too far ahead. You know, cart before the horse. Ahead of the game. Borrowing trouble. Jinxing myself. Oh—I should probably text Timmy, right?”

“If he’s fixin’ to worry, yes.” Poor baby. Someone was scared.

“We have an agreement. We always text if we’re not coming home.” Calvin slid out of bed and went for his coat. Tucker watched him as he passed through the angular light from the street and studied Calvin kneeling on the floor, his face lit up by his phone as he texted his roommate.

Lord, but that made his fingers itch for a pencil.

“That’s cool. Y’all take care of each other.”

“Sure. We both like clubs and bars and stuff. You just can’t be too careful.” Calvin turned on the flashlight on his phone and walked over to one of the paintings propped up against the wall. “He’s a good friend. He cares. Whoa.”

“You can turn the spotlights on, if you want.” The birds were flying there, filling the streets.

“Sure, and give people a show walking around naked in your studio.” But Calvin stood, found the lights, and turned them on, not actually caring who was looking, apparently. He moved on to one of the paintings on an easel. “What is it about birds?” Calvin sounded curious, interested.

“That’s what needed to be painted. They came to me here, on the street.”

“Right, the drawings in your little notebook you showed me on the subway. I remember now. So these are drafts. Like the series in your show? You do a zillion of these until you get… what? How do you know you’re done?”

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