Page 12 of Quiet
Isa couldn’t stop the tinyeepfrom coming out, but he manned up and followed Bea to a curtained-off area in the back of the studio. They passed Alex on the way, who was busy doing something mysterious with a mountain of sheets and pillows. Isa gave him a little wave.
“Hey, man. Thanks for helping out,” Alex said before going back to arranging pillows.
“Here you go.” Bea swept the curtain aside and ushered Isa in. “Okay, here’s what we want you to wear.” She took a length of shimmery, iridescent cloth and handed it to Isa.
“Um, thanks.” He held it in front of his eyes skeptically. “How am I supposed to wear this?” At least he was wearing something.
Bea pulled out her phone and showed Isa a picture of a guy in a toga. “Do you think you can manage this alone? Or do you need someone to help? Either Alex or Briar—”
“Nope! I can manage, thanks!” Isa closed the curtain in Bea’s face with a force just shy of rudeness. He was a theater kid. He knew how to put on a toga—though he knew it was about a thousand times easier with someone helping him. But he couldn’t do that right now.
For reasons.
He shucked off everything but his boxers and began the process of winding the fabric around his waist to the accompaniment of soft quacking.
When he stepped out, he’d managed to fashion the fabric into something close to Bea’s picture, though it was a little more like a sari than a toga.
“Isa, that’s even better!” Bea came up to him. “Here, come over here and sit down. We’re just doing sketches today, so you won’t need makeup yet.
Yet?
Having a best friend like Will meant he was no stranger to makeup, but, for some reason, the idea of getting painted up so Briar could stare at him for hours made his tummy feel funny. He couldn’t tell if it was good funny or throwing up funny.
Hoping for the former, Isa allowed Alex to pose him like a lounging strumpet over the bed of pillows.
“What do you think, Bri?”
Isa couldn’t see him, but he heard Briar’s heavy footsteps coming up behind him.
A hand nudged his chin until he turned to look over his shoulder where he could see Briar looking him over from head to toe. “Stay.” Briar moved the cloth until it exposed most of Isa’s back.
“You look like sin, Isa.” Bea clapped her hands together and bounced away.
“Is that a good thing?” From his vantage point he could actually see the blush traveling across his shoulder.
Briar frowned and placed the cloth back over Isa’s back.
“No, put it back. It was perfect the way it was.” Alex moved in to put it back but was stopped by Briar’s hand. “Fine, mister perfectionist, you do it then.”
It might have been Isa’s imagination, but it seemed to take longer before Briar was satisfied with his results than it had the first time.
Briar smoothed a hand over the material hanging down Isa’s side, and it felt like his entire body caught fire when the man’s thumb found bare skin.
No, no, no. We’re all professionals here. No lusting after the quiet art boy, Isa.
“Let us know when you need a break, Isa. We don’t want to wear you out too fast. If you can manage, I’d like you to hold this pose for a half an hour, but don’t push yourself if it starts to hurt.” Alex sat next to Bea and the two of them began to work.
Briar took longer to get started than they did. He sifted through a stack of sketchbooks, discarding one after another until he found one that made him nod. He propped an elbow on the corner of the table and rested his chin on it. Then he proceeded tostareat Isa.
If it had been anyone else on the planet, Isa would have been disturbed by such intense observation, but there was something about the way Briar looked at him that made everything else melt away. Isa found himself staring back and started noticing tiny details about the young man he’d missed. Like how his hair wasn’t artfully styled like Isa had originally thought.
There was no product in Briar’s hair, it was naturally wavy and cascaded off to one side, as if it were constantly getting shoved out of his face. His blue-black highlights made Isa dream about running his fingers through them. Isa could get lost in that hair.
Finally, Briar chose a charcoal pencil and began to draw. Once he looked down, he didn’t look back up again, leaving Isa free to continue observing him.
Isa watched, hypnotized, as Briar’s hand moved gracefully across the page. It was less like watching someone create art and more like witnessing art in motion. In the depths of Briar’s eyes, Isa saw worlds unfold, only to be discarded before they had a chance to be fully realized. Briar had an endless supply of worlds to choose from, so he had to pick the very best ones to give form to.
And right now, he’d chosen to draw Isa.
