Page 65 of Refraction

“I bet that doesn’t either.” He took the lighter right out of Timmy’s fingers. “Hand that over.”

He covered the top of the bong with his palm as Timmy gave it to him and then set it over his mouth to breathe in what Timmy had left in the chamber. “Oh. Nice.” He lit the bowl again and took one more hit before handing it back, holding it in as long as he could manage.

“Mmm. It’s good to sleep with the supplier.”

He nodded and let the smoke out in a long slow stream through his lips, feeling things start to soften a little. “You’re sleeping with him now?” Nice. He was a hottie, that one. “What’s his name again? Oh.” He hauled himself off the couch just long enough to stuff a towel under the front door and crack the window.

“Eddie. He’s a stud, not bad in bed either, and he isn’t stingy. My only complaint is that he’s tone deaf.” Oh man, that meant he wouldn’t last, but Calvin was pretty sure Timmy didn’t care about long-term.

“Right. Eddie. What an awful name. It’s so…Rocky Horror.” He grinned at Timmy. “We should do that sometime. Would you be into that?”

“I would love it. Can I dress up like Columbia?”

“Yes! I can go as Magenta. We’d rock that.” God, he was such a lightweight. Two hits and he was one happy camper. He picked up his pizza and sank back into the couch cushions. “Mmm. Thanks for the pizza.”

“You’re welcome. I was worried about you, a little bit.” Timmy snarfed down three pieces like he was breathing them in.

Timmy was sweet to worry. Timmy looked out for him, and that was way cool. Tucker took better care of him, but it was getting easier to just not think about him now. But as long as he was, what the hell? Like, really. “Listen, if an artist sees a stranger on the street and takes that… you know, that image home in his head, he can paint that, right? And what happens if that person realizes it’s him later? Can he, like, sue or something?”

He wasn’t clear on what he was getting at, but there was an injustice there; he was sure of it.

“I don’t think so. I mean, like, celebrities can sue if they’re making money saying ‘Here’s a painting of Bradley Cooper,’ maybe? But it’s not like a photo or something.” Timmy looked at him, frowning deep. “Is the Texan, like, stealing pictures of you to sell?”

Mmm. Tuck looked a little like Bradley Cooper. Wait. He was making a point.

“Pfft. No. He’s not an asshole.” He took a bite of his pizza, feeling every muscle in his jaw move as he chewed. So cool. “Okay.” He sat up and faced Timmy on the couch to make sure Timmy was listening. “Okay, so, he is a scary good artist, Tim. Like, wicked scary. And he was doing these sketches of me, and it made all the short hairs on the back of my neck stand up, you know? So I asked him not to draw me or, well, paint me or whatever. You following?”

“Sure. Yeah. That could be creepy, I guess. I mean, I don’t know. Are they, I don’t know, like, gross?”

“No.” He flopped back against the couch again. “They’re just… real. Like, too real.”Scary real. “Photographs of me have a distance to them. These don’t, you know? They’re….” What was the word? Like, too close. Like, none of anyone’s business close. He wasn’t comfortable with Tucker seeing him that way kind of close. Intimate?

“Visceral.”

“That. That, yes.” Nobody needed to know him that well.

See him that clearly.

“I’m sorry, man. That sucks. I’m guessing he said he wanted to paint you no matter what?”

“Not just that he wanted to, that he was going to. Even when I explained that it made me uncomfortable and asked him not to. I mean, I get that he wasn’t interested in selling them. He said they were for him. But that still feels….” He shifted around on the couch, trying to make the goose bumps go away. “And to just tell me that, like it didn’t matter what I wanted?”

“That’s not cool. I mean, I don’t know about how painting and shit works, but you can’t draw someone like that without respecting their wishes. It’s not like you do it in your sleep.”

“He gets a little… it’s not in his sleep, but it’s not always totally conscious either. It’s a trippy.”

“No shit?” Timmy got wide-eyed. “What? It’s like a trance or something? Because that’s just… whoa.”

He cut his eyes over at Timmy and frowned. “Yeah, it’s… really hard to explain.” Really hard. And if it was that hard for him to explain…. “Oh, tiger.” His heart sank right through the floor.

“Have another hit, man. Seriously. It’ll help. So… I take it this is a major fight?”

“Good idea.” He took the bong and lit the bowl, then inhaled deeply, the burn at the back of his throat reminding him there was a price to pay for everything. He took his time, tipping his head back to rest before finally letting it out of his lungs as the buzz hit him. “Yeah. It was a major fight. I don’t want him to paint me, but he’s not going to stop. Where do you go from there?”

“I got nothing. Sorry. He seemed like a fun guy.” Timmy handed him an olive.

“He is so much fun. Fearless and unashamed. Up for anything, especially if it’s something new. And you can apply all of that to the bedroom too.” That and a whole host of other things, like Tucker’s eyes and his smile and the studly hair on his chest. He sighed, smiling, eyelids heavy. “Yeah. Major fun.”

“Well, you got that, at least, and you’re smiling.” Timmy patted his hand. “Fifth Element?”

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