Page 49 of Midsummer Phoenixes
In this well-funded info-foyer, I hadn’t really expected to run into anyone, but lo and behold, there was a human there, looking at some art display. Finger paintings by the preschoolers maybe, mounted neatly by overpaid staff.
The man saw me, and his features lit up. He waved and made a beeline toward me.
“Hi! I’m glad I’m not the only one who’s early. Are you here for the”—he lowered his voice to a whisper—”the Cultural Awareness Program? You know, where we learn about the”—his voice got even more secretive—”the supernaturals.”
I opened my mouth to tell him my improv version offuck you very much,but the words froze on my tongue.
I looked him over. Youngish. Amory’s age. Smaller, and didn’t have Amory’s muscle distribution, so not someone physically active. He wore sneakers, jeans, a neat tee, and an expensive bag with room enough for a laptop and a fancy water bottle. Maybe a student.
And the thing was, that might be interesting. Not that man, not what he did for a living, but what he thought of our world, one he was clearly new to. He might give me insights into some of what Amory was going through or thought about my kind, even if Amory, too, was now a part of my world, after he had burned for me.
This man with his laptop bag and fancy water could be a lab rat in the labyrinth that was Amory’s journey of entering the supernatural world he’d barely even glimpsed yet. And I was going to talk to this human and find out how he was liking it in this labyrinth.
I smiled like he had just said something insulting about ties. “Sure.”
He beamed. “Oh, great. I had a seminar—I’m a TA. It ended early, and I was excited.” He cleared his throat. “It’s my roommate. He, uh. There was this one time where he hugged me, and then I looked into his eyes, and I could tell, and—it’s a long story. How about you?”
I shrugged. “My boyfriend.”
“Oh. I see. Can I—what’s that like?”
I didn’t like talking about Amory to other people. He was mine. Everyone knew, and the Star-Garbed had smelled the proof often enough to confirm it if anyone called it in doubt, but I had to remember that this man was my lab rat for the day.
“It’s the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me in the entirety of my existence.” He gave me a look that let me know honesty was not appreciated, so I shrugged yet again. “It’s nice, you know.”
“Ooooh. I think I know what you’re saying. It’s complicated?”
I already wanted to slap him. “Sure. How about you? Fucking that roommate?”
He flushed and looked at me with the kind of shock that told me he’d damn well thought about fucking his roommate.
“No! We’re really just roommates. He pays rent, I pay rent. An arranged living situation. Selective cohabitation.”
“Uh-huh.”
He cleared his throat. “How about I show you around a bit? I went to one session—it was really good—and a volunteer gave me a tour of the grounds. One of the live-in students I think. They have a cafeteria here that is just the best. I was going to grab something, but then these distracted me.”
He pointed at the paintings, and fine. They were done by the final year’s AP art course, and not at all that bad. One in particular was striking, done in gouache in hues of pinks and reds, it showed a gorgon, her snakes captured in their movement.
It was a vibrant piece, stunning, and according to the description, a self-portrait. I read on. All of them were, some showing more merit than others, but not one of them bad.
“They make a distracting display.”
The guy nodded. “They do. Oh, I’m Tate by the way.”
He held out his hand, so I shook. “Bennet.”
“Nice to meet you, Bennet. Ready for a little tour?”
“Sure, Tate. Lead the way.”
Tate seemed eager. Amory hadn’t been that eager, or had he? I’d fed him beignets when I’d given him a choice, when I hadn’t been sure which I’d want him to choose. It had been the morning after our first night together, his scent had lingered on my skin, and I’d have liked nothing more than to keep him comfortable on that tiny couch of his, in that apartment he’d worked so hard for, that home he had built from nothing.
A small laugh escaped me when I realized that Amory, my Amory, had risen from the despair he’d been plunged into to a man I could only dream of winning, a true firebird shaking ashes off his feathers even before he’d met me.
Tate looked at me as he led me along the corridor with helpful signage indicating the cafeteria, library, and a number of lecture halls.
“You alright, Bennet? I know this all seems weird because this place looks normal and all. I mean, everything here is normal. Everyone is.” He winked. “Although they do sometimes make jokes about eating you.”
