creative writer you met in your feminist theory class?”
He points a finger at me. “No, but only because I have yet to meet a sexy creative writer.”
“ I’m sure biologists are more frumpy.”
“ Guess again,” he says, opening the door wide enough for me to enter. I sit on his bed, handing him a hot chocolate. “Your room is as dull and empty as mine. That’s surprising.”
He shrugs. “After a while of dorm rooms, you don’t really care enough. Or have time to go and buy stuff…”
“ And decorate,” I finish. “The curse of a grad student.” I take a sip of my soy hot chocolate. It’s perfect.
“ So, what’s the occasion?” he asks. “Hot chocolate at ten at night—should I be looking forward to this from now on?”
“ I’ve had a long day, and the studying has only begun,” I say. “So this is about as close as I can get to taking you up on that date.”
His eyes brighten. “Well then, if I can consider this a date, then I am one lucky guy.
I grin stupidly and cheers him, taking another gulp of hot chocolate.
“ You know, we can always utilize the minimal space there is between us,” he tells me. “I have to finish an entire Faulkner novel by tomorrow, so I’m going to be up all night anyway. You want to study over here? I hear homework dates are the best.”
My stomach twists involuntarily. Yes, I know from experience that homework dates are the best. The wound of homework dates might be too fresh to return to. Been there, done that. Didn’t end too pleasantly.
But Miles looks so hopeful, so excited. Like I’ll break his heart if I say no.
“ Okay, okay,” I say, giving in. “Let me go grab my books.”
“ Sweet!” he says, grabbing his beat up novel from the windowsill.
As I head back to my room to grab my books, I get a text from Britain:
I don’t care if you have to pull an all-nighter to catch up with homework, but we’re having a party at the manor on Saturday. You’ve got to come, no excuses.
I text her back: Okay, but you owe me .
Britain: It will be worth it, trust me.
^^^^^
Studying with Miles actually helps me get caught up enough so I can go to Britain’s party on Saturday.
And when I say party, I use the term loosely.
I walk into the manor half-expecting the models to have met a billion Boston locals by now and for the house to be jam-packed, but the truth is, none of them have met a soul. I guess Britain wasn’t exaggerating when she said that all of them have been working to the bone.
The girl looks drained. “You’ve missed out on some of the best shoots.”
Adam hands me a glass of wine as we all sit in the parlor, and I thank him with a smile. There’s nothing between me and Adam anymore, well, nothing except for the raw lust that exists when posing naked with someone. I’m sure if I ever had to shoot with Adam, I’d be wildly turned on again.
But that’s just part of the job.
“ Tell me all about them,” I say in earnest.
The models are alone tonight. The Veda staff took the day off, and the AA assistants are at some all-expenses-paid company dinner in town.
Good to know that we’re not part of the company.
But it’s nice here. Mellower than I thought it would be, but nice none-the-less. All of the models are lounging around the parlor, drinking red wine and gin and diet tonic. They fill me in on what I’ve missed.
“ Well,” says Jaime, “first thing that happened after you left was that Britain had us shoot in this kinky-as-fuck cage.” Jaime winks at Britain, and she rolls her eyes. “Oh, don’t roll your eyes at me, missy. You loved that shoot.”
Britain shrugs. “What can I say? It turned out great.” Her face falls. “Well, that one turned out great.”
“ What happened?” I ask.
“ Well, first A.J. cuddles up to me by saying that, at the end of the day, I will always have the power in terms of what I photograph and what ends up in the launch issue.”
“ And he lied, obviously,” I say,
He points a finger at me. “No, but only because I have yet to meet a sexy creative writer.”
“ I’m sure biologists are more frumpy.”
“ Guess again,” he says, opening the door wide enough for me to enter. I sit on his bed, handing him a hot chocolate. “Your room is as dull and empty as mine. That’s surprising.”
He shrugs. “After a while of dorm rooms, you don’t really care enough. Or have time to go and buy stuff…”
“ And decorate,” I finish. “The curse of a grad student.” I take a sip of my soy hot chocolate. It’s perfect.
“ So, what’s the occasion?” he asks. “Hot chocolate at ten at night—should I be looking forward to this from now on?”
“ I’ve had a long day, and the studying has only begun,” I say. “So this is about as close as I can get to taking you up on that date.”
His eyes brighten. “Well then, if I can consider this a date, then I am one lucky guy.
I grin stupidly and cheers him, taking another gulp of hot chocolate.
“ You know, we can always utilize the minimal space there is between us,” he tells me. “I have to finish an entire Faulkner novel by tomorrow, so I’m going to be up all night anyway. You want to study over here? I hear homework dates are the best.”
My stomach twists involuntarily. Yes, I know from experience that homework dates are the best. The wound of homework dates might be too fresh to return to. Been there, done that. Didn’t end too pleasantly.
But Miles looks so hopeful, so excited. Like I’ll break his heart if I say no.
“ Okay, okay,” I say, giving in. “Let me go grab my books.”
“ Sweet!” he says, grabbing his beat up novel from the windowsill.
As I head back to my room to grab my books, I get a text from Britain:
I don’t care if you have to pull an all-nighter to catch up with homework, but we’re having a party at the manor on Saturday. You’ve got to come, no excuses.
I text her back: Okay, but you owe me .
Britain: It will be worth it, trust me.
^^^^^
Studying with Miles actually helps me get caught up enough so I can go to Britain’s party on Saturday.
And when I say party, I use the term loosely.
I walk into the manor half-expecting the models to have met a billion Boston locals by now and for the house to be jam-packed, but the truth is, none of them have met a soul. I guess Britain wasn’t exaggerating when she said that all of them have been working to the bone.
The girl looks drained. “You’ve missed out on some of the best shoots.”
Adam hands me a glass of wine as we all sit in the parlor, and I thank him with a smile. There’s nothing between me and Adam anymore, well, nothing except for the raw lust that exists when posing naked with someone. I’m sure if I ever had to shoot with Adam, I’d be wildly turned on again.
But that’s just part of the job.
“ Tell me all about them,” I say in earnest.
The models are alone tonight. The Veda staff took the day off, and the AA assistants are at some all-expenses-paid company dinner in town.
Good to know that we’re not part of the company.
But it’s nice here. Mellower than I thought it would be, but nice none-the-less. All of the models are lounging around the parlor, drinking red wine and gin and diet tonic. They fill me in on what I’ve missed.
“ Well,” says Jaime, “first thing that happened after you left was that Britain had us shoot in this kinky-as-fuck cage.” Jaime winks at Britain, and she rolls her eyes. “Oh, don’t roll your eyes at me, missy. You loved that shoot.”
Britain shrugs. “What can I say? It turned out great.” Her face falls. “Well, that one turned out great.”
“ What happened?” I ask.
“ Well, first A.J. cuddles up to me by saying that, at the end of the day, I will always have the power in terms of what I photograph and what ends up in the launch issue.”
“ And he lied, obviously,” I say,
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