I passed the joint back to Jay, matching his smile.
The two of us sat on his apartment balcony, enjoying the last of the dwindling sunlight and the weed Theo sold me back in February. It was the perfect antidote for my uncle's body aches and my own insufferable period cramps, and I hadn't seen the man this bubbly since his remission.
I wasn't sure how much longer we had before the cancer consumed him, but I'd do my very best to give him the most enjoyable, herb-induced life I could before he was back on an IV.
"You still haven't picked a theme?" he rasped, taking another leisurely hit. "Isn't the semester half-over?"
"I've got a bunch of random portraits done. But I can't seem to commit to one idea." White smoke split my lips. "I really want to do something impressive, you know? Something impactful."
Nothing pained me more than the thought of writing an impassive essay on a project I was embarrassed to showcase. I refused to contribute to the dumpster fire of meaningless art in the world. I couldn't stand the idea of society confusing my work with something your average Boomer could capture on their iPhone, or what an AI could render in ten seconds. There was no half-assing this one.
Jay hummed. "That's the ugly underbelly of perfectionism, ain't it? Procrastination." He shook his head. "You just gotta pick something and roll with it."
"You make it sound so easy."
"Isn't it? Shoot for an A, not a Pulitzer."
Maybe that was achievable for someone like Elijah; he had his car project dialed already. But I wasn't satisfied with simplicity. Not creatively. Not professionally. And apparently, not romantically, either.
"If it's so simple, then what would you do?" I murmured. "How would you illustrate the concept of misconceptions?"
"Me?" He mulled over the idea for a few seconds, inhaling another plume of carcinogens and a mild dose of THC. "Personally...I think I'd portray the trials of shitting."
I snorted, rolling my eyes at the overhang above us. "I'm being serious, Jay."
"So am I." He raised his leathery hands in the air, painting me a portrait across a backsplash of empty parking spaces. "Consider a series of diptychs. The first photo, you zoom in on a person's face, so you don't know what kind of pain they're in. Could be physical. Could be psychological. And for the next photo, you zoom out, only to discover they're on the toilet!" He barked a laugh. "Ha! Now that'll throw your professor for a loop."
I plucked the joint out of his hand, but it was impossible to bury my grin. "Absolutely not."
His chuckles made the porch a little warmer, and I savored the sound. A lighthearted, giggly Jay was probably my favorite thing in this whole world. Especially when it wasn't accompanied by a hoarse, painful cough.
He adjusted his baseball cap over his head and the thin forest of hair he'd grown in the past week. Then he shot me a teasing grin. "So, what's his name?"
I crushed the joint in the cigarette tray between our cast aluminum chairs. "Whose?"
"The guy who's got you smiling like that."
I feared my dismissive chuckle was not at all convincing, so I stomped on his blooming assumptions. "Did Mary Jane transition? Because she's the only reason my cheeks hurt."
He tutted at my response. "It started before the weed." Perceptive brown eyes looked me over. "You've never been this confident. Cough it up."
"All I'm coughing up is smoke." He pressed his lips together, and I sighed. Fine. "It's not like some romantic thing, okay? We're just...hanging out."
"Yeah, and I'm just a little sick. What's his damn name, Roe?"
I glared at the peeling paint on the wooden balustrade. What would confessing to a dying man really cost me? Who better to confide in than Jay?
"...His name is Theo."
My uncle repeated the name like a foreign word he planned to look up later. "Theo, huh? And what does Mr. Theo do? Is he a student?"
"He's interested in cancer research." I ignored the impressed look I received. "He lost his mom to brain cancer. And you've already met his sister, Charlie. She used to help out at the hospital."
"What, little Brace Face?" His eyebrows kissed his hat. "How about that."
I waited for him to make a joke at my expense, but all he did was smile at a family piling into their Subaru down below. The youngest kids argued with each other over seating arrangements, and one of the girls immediately started crying when her demands were ignored—the kind of high-pitched shriek that impales the eardrums. Their parents exchanged tired looks before slipping into the car with a party dish, and I swore the whole vehicle began rocking back and forth, incapable of containing the chaos.
"So...is that it?" I asked. "No words of caution? No follow-up questions?"
Jay smirked at me. "Nah. I just wanted confirmation."
"Of what?"
"That some boy had weaseled his way into my niece's life, and even more remarkably, under her skin. I never thought I'd live to see the day." He snickered. "Almost didn't!"
I scowled at his morbid sense of humor. "Yeah, well, all splinters work their way out eventually. It's nothing to get excited about."
"Right, right. Of course," he agreed, but his knowing smile lingered.
While Judas was defrosting, I decided to text Theo and let him know it was a bad day for sex. This would be the first weekend I'd miss because of my period, and honestly, canceling on him was a little...nerve-wracking.
How was I supposed to tell my fuck buddy I didn't want to fuck?
The idea stressed me out, and I think a small part of me feared I'd immediately be replaced. It was a silly feeling that stemmed from anxiety—and perhaps an ugly source of insecurity too. It wasn't like I believed everything Alyssa said, but her comment had still infected the overthinker in me. You're not even his type, she'd insisted. You're just a placeholder. A toy.
And I knew part of that was true. I was a temporary fix, not a long-term solution. For all intents and purposes, I was a toy. One he'd eventually grow tired of—or lose. But I wasn't quite done with him yet.
So...I've got cramps, I texted him. And I'm sort of bleeding out. It's probably not a great night for us. I'm really sorry. See you next week?
I got a call a moment later, and after a few distressful rings, I answered. "Theo."
"Hi, yeah. Don't apologize for shedding your fucking organs."
I grinned at my foggy windshield, relieved to hear such fond exasperation on his tongue. "...Sorry."
"Quit it!" He heaved a sigh, but I knew he was smiling. "What kind of food are you craving tonight?"
My confused silence prompted a clarifying sentence.
"I'll get us dinner, and we can watch a movie or something. What do you want?"
Warmth enveloped my heart, and I slumped against my seat, amazed by the way he so effortlessly shattered the apprehension I'd constructed. "You still want to come over?"
"I mean, you're on your period. It's not mono." I felt his frown in his constricted tone. "I can also just bring you some food and leave you alone if you don't want the company. Totally understandable."
"That's not what I meant," I said, sinking further and further into my seat so no passersby would witness my scarlet cheeks. Idiot. "Thai sounds really good."
"How much heat?"
"All of it."
"Yes, sir. What else?"
"Chocolate."
"That's a given. Anything else?"
I tilted my head, taking a moment to listen to my ovaries and their puzzling cravings. "Salt and vinegar potato chips?"
He snorted. "Odd but tasteful. I'll see you at six."
"Thank you, Theo. This is...really sweet of you to do." In fact, it was the kindest thing he'd ever done for me. And yet, as soft and unfortified as it made me feel inside, I couldn't find it in me to declare 'overkill.'
"Of course. Tend to your uterus," he said.
"See you soon."
A barrage of spices greeted my nasal cavity three seconds before a warm kiss on the cheek. I opened my eyes to Theo's sweet grin—and several delicious items in either hand.
"My knight in woolen beanie" I cooed, sitting up from my fetal position on the couch. My roommates were out for the evening, so I had full dominion over the living room, free to bitch and moan and bleed in peace.
"At your service."
Theo helped me clear the coffee table for our buffet, and together, we relocated a heat pad, an embarrassing number of beverage cups, and my pending portfolio. Although, in all honesty, it was less of a series and more like a stack of random mugshots. Or an altar on Día de los Muertos.
So far, I had several prints of Jay and Baker and three of Elijah—my partner in crime during in-class assignments. I'd laid them out on the table in hopes of weaving a theme together from the existing pieces, but I'd had no such luck.
"Wow," Theo murmured, delicately shuffling through my art. "You're good. And not just photography-student good. Your feral friend wasn't kidding."
I waved him off and moved to retrieve our plates and silverware. "Thanks."
"I mean it. You've got an eye for it. The composition, the lighting, the way you've captured their personalities..." He carefully stacked the photos into a pile and transferred them to the kitchen counter. "Don't quit on this passion, Moe. I think you were meant to hold a camera."
I stared at him, mesmerized by the sincere look in the eye, the awed twist of his lips. And that, combined with the mouth-watering Thai food invading my senses, had my emotions bursting through the floodgates.
Theo gaped at the tears in my eyes, and with a pitying huff of laughter, he wrapped his arm around my shoulder and escorted me back to the couch. "You're really feeling it today, huh, Stains?"
I nodded, chuckling at my tragic hormonal imbalance. "I just...I didn't think you'd want to take the time out of your day to see me if...you know...sex wasn't on the menu."
"Well, that's just dumb." We sat on the couch, and he pulled my disheveled throw over our laps. "Besides. If you really wanted sex on your period, and you weren't bedridden and sick to your stomach, a little blood wouldn't scare me."
"Really?"
Damn. I didn't even know that was a thing.
He made a face. "You think I never fooled around with Alyssa on her period for six years?"
I beamed and poked him in the bicep. "...You like me."
"Yes, I like you. I told you that!" He pushed me into the pillows, shaking his head.
"I know. But this is all so foreign to me," I admitted. "I never had my hoe phase. I didn't know what to expect with us."
"Yeah, well, I didn't have a hoe phase either, unless you count a few awkward and confusing flings in high school." He shrugged and began piling curry onto his plate. "But between you and me, I think hookup culture works well for a select few, and for everyone else, there's an emptiness there they refuse to address."
I peered at him curiously, urging him to go on, and he waved his fork around. Cranking the cogwheels in his brain.
"That level of intimacy generally demands connection—a sense of safety and trust, you know? Something you can't build in one night." He handed me the steaming to-go box. "Plus, there's an astronomical difference between making love to your girl and banging some stranger who just wants you for your body. Anyone who's experienced real love will never feel satisfied with a quick lay for the rest of their life."
My smile faltered, and he stilled.
"That...came out wrong. I'm not talking about us, Moe."
I loathed my hypersensitivity tonight, and I began scooping noodles onto my plate to hide my discomfort. "No, I know. I'm sure it's a totally different experience when you really know and love someone." To study and anticipate the touch of someone you believed would never hurt you. To look into the eyes of someone who saw you as their whole universe. There was no way it couldn't enhance the experience.
He touched my arm, drawing my watery gaze, and the apology in his eyes punctured my next inhale. "I didn't mean to sound like I was comparing anything. This is a friends-with-benefits relationship. Which means you're not just a body to fuck. You're a whole ass person. You're my friend."
A few months ago, the idea of calling this demon barista a friend would have felt absurd, but since then, we'd not only grown to tolerate each other, we'd actually come to enjoy each other's personalities and differing perspectives. Neither of us could deny that anymore.
"And regardless of what happens with us," he went on, "I'd really like for us to stay that way..."
His admission softened a piece of me that had long since crystallized, and even though I feared a deeper, more profound connection with Theo, my heart swelled at the idea of preserving the bond we'd forged. I didn't want all our time and effort and openness to go to waste, to cut ties the moment we ceased an intimate partnership. I didn't want to go back to being belligerent strangers at a coffee shop.
"Me too," I whispered, and my gaze flicked to his, then back to my plate. "Let's keep this friendship intact, come what may."
I felt his smile—too embarrassed with myself to look him in the eye—and we spent a few minutes diving into our meal, groaning at the burst of flavor it supplied.
"Speaking of friends," Theo said after downing an entire serving of Pad Thai, "the gang is skiing up at Rose next Saturday. It's supposed to snow a few feet Friday night, so it should be pretty fun. Then we're grabbing dinner and spending the night at Van's place. They wanted you there and told me to relay the message." The shock on my face seemed to amuse him. "You're also welcome to bring a couple friends along."
"Baker's my only friend," I disclosed, still reeling from the invitation. When Theo told me his friends liked me on his birthday, I'd seen it as an empty reassurance. But if he was being honest about their request, and he wasn't just trying to cover up his own desire to spend more time with me, then perhaps I really did ace my first impression. "She snowboards, so I'm sure she'd be down for a powder day."
"Perfect." He studied my face and the concern pinching my eyes. "You ski, right? I remember you saying something about going with your uncle as a kid."
My gaze fell to the green curry sauce drowning my plate. Jay taught me to ski a few years before his diagnosis, but I hadn't touched the slopes in a decade, and my gear was buried somewhere in my parents' closet, collecting dust. Beyond losing my only real ski partner, I just couldn't find the time to maintain my passion for the hobby. Plus, it wasn't exactly affordable for a broke college student.
So yes, I could ski. But ski well?
Doubtful.
"We used to go a few times a year," I answered. "It's been a hot minute, though. I might be a little rusty."
He grinned at me, pleased with my willingness to participate. "I'm sure it'll come back to you. It's all muscle memory."
I returned his smile, but our weekend plans lurched Carl awake, and I knew the gremlin wouldn't leave my side again until I survived my final run on Saturday.