I slouched against the wall, hearing Gabriel's boots clank against the metal on his way down. Farther and farther away he went, leaving me behind just as I had asked. An urge to run after him made my body twitch. I couldn't afford to lose him, and yet, I couldn't afford to pass up on this opportunity with Cameron, either.
Three steady breaths later, I dragged the door open and went inside. The light was far brighter than in the stairwell, and it helped with the transition.
Smile, I told myself, trying my best to forget Gabriel's agitation. We would deal with that later.
"There you are," Cameron said, poking his head out from one of the other rooms. "Come here, I want to show you something."
Bad atmosphere dispelled, I walked across the painted cement floor to his side. He was leaning over a desk, sorting through black and white photographs. "Why don't you check these out? Tell me what you think of the exposure and positioning of objects." He handed me a bunch and continued to sort through the rest.
Careful not to leave too many fingerprints, I went through them and thought about his words. Exposure. Object positioning. The photos were almost identical, or at least the scene was. A few items moved around at the scene, but many remained in place.
"Is this for a class of yours or something?" I asked, thinking it was an odd arrangement of various trinkets that had nothing to do with each other. I could see no other purpose for those pictures.
"It's a batch I asked the last class to take. They could arrange the objects as they liked. They got three attempts to snap the perfect picture."
It felt odd to grade someone else's efforts, but perhaps this was some sort of test. Going through the photos again, I sorted them into piles—one with the good ones, one with the crappy exposure, one with odd object placement, and one where the terrible ones went. I slowly came to the conclusion that I never wanted to be a teacher. Grading wasn't my thing—it made me feel uncomfortable.
"You done?" Cameron asked.
"I think so." My stomach felt queasy, but I steeled myself for his judgment.
Cameron snatched one of the piles and let out a few hums. Those were the 'good' ones, so I hoped I wasn't too far off the mark.
"Did you peek at the backside of these?"
I shook my head, too nervous to actually say anything.
He placed the photos back on the table and took the next one batch.
"Didn't like the exposure in those," I said, relieved that I didn't stutter. It was a small comfort, but an important one.
"You're right. These suck." He shrugged and threw them back onto the table.
I almost laughed. Cameron seemed to know exactly how to break a stale silence with a few pointed words filled with hidden humor. He was a nice guy, I had to admit. For a teacher, that is.
His gripped the third pile. After looking at the first photo, he smiled. "Let me guess, you didn't like the arrangement in these."
Pride, such a weird emotion—one I'd never come to terms with. "Yeah," I replied, hoping I could keep the satisfaction away from my voice.
"You've got a good eye."
Cue blush. My cheeks heated and my gaze shot to the floor. This was embarrassing, partly because his words meant a great deal. I felt like a school boy. Wrong, I was a school boy.
"Thank you."
"No need to thank me, it's the truth. What's in this last pile?"
"The ones I didn't like at all." I bit my lip. This was definitely awkward. At least I didn't know the people who took those photographs—that would be even worse.
He flipped through them and nodded. "I agree with you." He turned them over and read what it said on the backside. "Shit, I must have liked this student. Gave them a good grade they didn't deserve."
Cue awkward silence. Lucky for me, Cameron didn't seem to need an answer to that statement.
"You hungry yet?" he asked.
I thought about the delicious-looking quiches we'd brought with us. "Yes, definitely hungry. The food smelled amazing on the way here."
Cameron grinned. "I know."
We returned to the larger room that had a kitchenette in one corner and a microwave standing on the floor. Cameron looked over his shoulder. "You want it heated or cold?"
"Either is fine."
My eyes landed on the gray sliding door as we passed. Gabriel. One part of me wanted to cuss him out for barging in here, but another part of me liked that he wanted to protect me. He confused me, but I was glad that he hinted that we would talk about it later. We sure needed to air some things between us.
Cameron rummaged around in his little kitchen, finding plates, cutlery and two glasses. "I only have water. Hope that's fine with you."
"Water is fine." It was only then it occurred to me that I was supposed to be the assistant here. This was my job. Great, another reason to be embarrassed. I wondered if it was the fact that he was my teacher that made me react to everything with a blush.
I tried to make myself useful, but Cameron waved for me to take a seat instead. "I don't have guests often, so let me have my fun." He grabbed a sharp knife from somewhere, and even with that in hand, he didn't appear dangerous at all.
"Still want to share?" he asked.
I nodded, allowing him to cut the triangular piece in two and serve us both. Sitting up straight in my chair, I tried to show off my best manners. It was the least I could do after all of this awkwardness. It wasn't a bad sort of awkward, but still, it made me far too aware of everything.
Cameron dug into the food, closing his eyes as if he was taking care to savor the taste. He even made a sound of appreciation that stunned me completely. The rickety chair squeaked beneath me as I shifted.
He opened his eyes and smiled sheepishly. "Oh, did you want to say grace or something?"
What? The mortification—oh dear.
"No, no. Sorry. It's nothing." I grasped my fork again and focused on the food. This time, I managed to retrieve a small piece of the pie, and damn if I didn't react the exact same way as Cameron had done. The taste was heavenly. "Wow."
Cameron laughed. "Told you."
"You did."
The awkwardness vanished as we ate, which allowed me to relax. He was cool, and I was glad he'd given me a chance to work with him. Based on the framed photos hanging across the studio, I could see that he liked to mix styles. The walls held a few portraits, some city life scenes and a few that appeared to be surrealistic. The differences were quite hard to make sense of, actually. There was no overall theme that I could grasp.
"What do you usually photograph?" I asked.
"Well, I started as a fashion photographer, but I hated to work in that environment so I've tried to spread my wings a bit."
"Oh." I wanted to know more, but I wasn't exactly sure what to ask.
"It's a vast industry, and they don't allow you a lot of freedom. I do some shoots when certain people ask, but it's not a regular gig anymore. I'm trying a different route now, but it's not as easy to get recognized—or at least it takes time. That's why I turned to teaching."
"So, you don't enjoy teaching?" I asked.
"I do, if not for the students." He chuckled, as my mouth fell open. "I'm kidding."
"Sure."
He certainly wasn't kidding. I could tell.
"No, but seriously. Some of you are awesome, but I keep having to fend people off. I think I'm too young or something. Girls these days have no limits."
Oh.
"I see what you mean," I replied, hoping that I had understood him right.
"Guys, I wouldn't mind so much, but girls have always freaked me out."
I felt like choking. You have a boyfriend, Adam. Perhaps it was all right to admire from afar.
"Can I ask you something?" Cameron leaned back. I was almost tempted to say that he was already asking, but lucky for me, my tongue refused to cooperate.
When I didn't say anything, Cameron continued. "Is that guy, Gabriel, also your boyfriend? I don't mean to pry, but I kind of got that feeling."
Why, oh why was he asking that? Again, I couldn't answer.
"Sorry for asking. It's none of my business."
I could tell he felt bad about it, which made it even worse. Could I tell him? Perhaps that was the best thing I could do. It would place a barrier between us, and besides, I ached to tell someone about it.
Clearing my throat, I regained the ability to speak. "It's a secret."
"So you are together?"
I nodded.
Cameron's lips curled into a smile. "Good for you." He sounded earnest, and for the first time that day, it felt like everything would work out just fine.
Good for me. Yes, it was good for me. If only Gabriel would get off my case about being Cameron's assistant. Surely, he would get it once I explained it properly.
* * * *
Cameron drove me back to campus around nine. That was after spending a great deal of time arguing about whether he should drive me or not. He insisted, saying that he had to pick up some stuff at the office anyway. I conceded defeat while trying my best to show how grateful I was without being too happy about it. I didn't want him to feel as if he had to drive me around. He'd done enough for me already and if the dynamics between us continued to be this good, my job wouldn't feel like a job at all.
I climbed the short steps to the entrance and filed into the corridor. It was a move made out of habit. To reach my apartment I should have continued up another set of stairs, but instead, I walked down the long hallway to Gabriel's room.
As my feet carried me closer, I recalled that I was mad at him for barging in at Cameron's. The bad energy from earlier returned, and my determination to make Gabriel understand and back off grew enough to boost my speed and square my shoulders. Yes, Gabriel was good for me, but not this particular day, and for once, I wanted to tell him.
Stopping outside the door, I gave myself a few seconds to find my center, hoping that Gabriel wouldn't be angry with me for visiting. He'd said we would talk about it, but he also feared that anyone would catch us red-handed.
I gave the door a firm knock and crossed my arms while waiting.
"Come in," he called, his words sounding hollow from the other side of the door—the tone of a welcome was not included.
I pushed down the handle and stepped inside. "Hey." I fidgeted, not sure if I should walk up to Gabriel or remain in the hallway. He gave me a weird vibe where he sat by his desk, his back to me and his shoulders raised. Another few seconds of silence passed until he rose, turned slowly and more or less stalked toward me. The anger was everywhere, sending fissures of tension into the already heavy atmosphere around us.
Without thinking, I backed up against the wall, staring wide-eyed at Gabriel as he closed in and gripped the collar of my shirt, his fist curling beneath my chin.
"What are you doing? Let me go." I stared up at my boyfriend, fueled by anger and frustration that I'd carried with me since he'd barged into Cameron's studio.
He ignored my question, his eyes narrowed into slits. In fact, his entire face warped into a sneer that I had never seen before.
"That's rich."
It felt like a stand-off, and even if I wanted to fight back, I fumbled for words. "What do you mean?"
"What do you think I mean?"
"I think we should talk."
"Talk about what? That you went with that creep and refused to go with me?"
With squared shoulders, I looked him right in the eye. "You know how much I love photography."
Gabriel's face betrayed nothing. Clearly, he wasn't backing down.
"Mr. McCain is my teacher. And even if I understand that you were worried, you have to trust me."
Gabriel simply shook his head as if he couldn't believe what I was saying. His grip around my collar disappeared, but the pressure remained around my throat. No one had done that to me in years—not since Doug and his crowd had stopped bullying me. Nothing about this situation made sense. Gabriel was overreacting, and I didn't understand why.
"Maybe we should talk about this when we've cooled down," I suggested.
"Do whatever you want. Just stay away from that teacher." The dismissal was absolute. He might as well have closed the door in my face based on how he refused to look at me and ventured farther into the room, leaving me alone in the small hallway. He slouched in front of his laptop, clicking away until music began to blast from the speakers.
Running my fingers along my throat, I hesitated. Leaving things unresolved might have been the worst solution, but if he didn't want to talk about it then there wasn't much I could do.
I left, walking slowly up to the second floor with a strange ache in my stomach. Gabriel had a lot of nerve to ask something like that of me, but I was starting to see a pattern. He was tumbling into a world he wasn't familiar with, trying to cope with a situation that couldn't have been easy. He wanted to state his claim over me as his partner, but hamstrung by the fact that he wanted to stay in the closet, he had very few options. It still wasn't right, but I wondered if I should have been a bit more understanding. He was trying, after all.
Outside my room, I looked over my shoulder toward the stairs. Would he be mad at me if I went back? Heaving a sigh, I leaned my forehead against the door. Perhaps it was best to sleep on it.