Avery and I keep hanging around my dorm but we don't talk much more about my problems. She'd probably be willing to if I kept going, but I feel like I should let what I already told her settle for a while. Instead, I wander around the room picking up some old paints off the floor so it'll at least look like I'm trying to tidy up in here. We chat about lighter subjects, like how her senior exhibition is coming along.
"Ugh," she groans after describing a few pieces she has in mind but hasn't started on yet. "I don't want to, but I should probably go. I was procrastinating and you reminded me that I have a shit ton of stuff to do."
"Okay," I stop halfway through picking up a fallen piece of paper and instead leave it on the floor. "See you around."
"For sure," Avery nods. "Thanks for telling me all that stuff earlier, by the way."
"Yeah," I say. I don't know if it's a big deal or not. Sometimes sharing things is easy and sometimes it's hard. The content doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is what kind of mood I'm in. It's easy to share when I don't care. It's hard to share if I'm anxious and that's usually when people ask.
"I won't blab," she adds.
"I don't care if you do," I admit.
She gives me a funny look and then shrugs. "Still, I won't."
"Okay," I say. "Thanks."
I wonder if we're friends yet. How can I tell? Should I ask her next time I see her, or would that be weird?
Avery lets herself out and gives me a little wave as she closes the door behind her. In a way, I'm glad that happened. Still, I'm glad it's over.
As soon as she's out, I abandon the cleanup. Instead, I flop down on my bed and lay there for a while, staring at the ceiling.
Around seven my phone buzzes and I force myself up and across the room. The message is from Cameron and just reads "dinner?"
I guess it's good he asked because otherwise I probably would have skipped eating. It takes so much effort to drag myself down to the dining hall when I know I'm just going to sit by myself and I just don't have the energy for that right now.
Cameron's been texting me pretty on and off since we spent the night at Avery's house, but at this point, I hadn't heard from him since Friday. Avery did mention that they went out, so maybe he was annoyed that I didn't come. Maybe she told him about what happened at the critique and freaked him out. That wouldn't be surprising.
I reply back with "sure" and then he tells me to meet him in the cafe downstairs. I put on my shoes and drag myself down there. Upon entering, I scan the room, but I don't see him. What if he doesn't come? Before I can start to panic, I feel a hand on my shoulder. I jump and turn around to see Cameron laughing.
"Fuck! You're skittish" he says between chuckles.
I don't know how to reply so I just shrug my shoulders.
I want to know if he and Avery have been talking about me. I want to know what they've been saying if they have been… but I don't want to ask. I don't want to sound paranoid, even though I am.
"How was your weekend?" I decide to ask instead.
"Hectic. My senior showcase is less than two weeks away." He pulls out his phone to look at the calendar and adds, "Next Friday."
"Oh wow. Sounds busy. Are you done?"
"Close. I'm gonna stay on campus late tonight and work on it. I've actually been working on it all day already, but I still have to eat right?"
I guess.
"Do you want something from here?" I look towards the menu that's written in chalk up on the wall. "Or is this just where you wanted to meet?"
"Well, I don't really have time to do anything fancy right now," he snorts.
Right. He's busy.
"Um…" I glance at the menu once more. "I'll probably just get a salad."
He rolls his eyes at that. "Naturally. Well, I'm getting a burger."
Naturally.
When we get our food, I follow Cameron towards the seating area. He chooses a spot by the window. As soon as we're seated, he starts venting about his showcase.
"My parents are coming," he reveals.
"Oh, really?" I ask. "Well, that's good, right? It's good they want to come and support you?"
"I don't know," he mutters.
"It's stressful?"
"I just want things to be perfect."
"I'm sure they will be," I try to reason.
He makes a sour face then picks up his burger, taking a bite. I take my fork and kick around the lettuce on my plate. Cameron raises an eyebrow at that.
"Aren't you going to eat?"
"Yeah," I assure him. "I just...eh...I'm not in the mood for this I guess."
"Well, maybe if you picked something more substantial it'd be a little more appealing," he remarks. "I know you've got that gluten thing but they have other options here. You could have at least added grilled chicken or something."
Oh, right. Cameron still doesn't know I'm vegan. Ugh, I don't really want to explain that right now.
"I don't really eat meat," I tell him instead.
"Like, at all?" he makes a face.
"Yeah, at all."
"What, are you allergic to that too?" he snorts.
"No," I answer sheepishly. "It's my choice. I don't eat any animal products."
Cameron squints. "California," he scoffs.
"It's a choice," I justify again.
"I don't get it," he says. "So, like, no milk or anything either?"
"No," I confirm. "None of that."
"Don't you miss it?" he asks.
"There are alternatives," I point out. "There are a lot of options--"
"I don't really care, no offense," he cuts me off with a laugh. "If you're about to get all preachy, save it."
"I wasn't…" I practically choke.
He laughs again and then says, "Well, kudos for keeping it from me for so long. Most vegans can't shut up the fuck about it."
"Well… I don't really need people to know," I murmur. "It doesn't matter. It's just a thing."
He smiles wryly. "Does it make you feel better than everyone else? Like, superior?"
"No," I say truthfully. "I'm not… I'm not like that."
"Even if you are it's fine," he says, not even bothering to look at me and instead rearranging some of the fries on his plate. "Everyone's got shit like that, yeah?"
I guess, but I really...don't. I don't feel superior. I don't think I could feel better than other people even if I tried. I never feel good about myself.
"Do you?" I decide to ask.
"Pfft," Cameron scoffs and then takes another bite of his burger, completely ignoring my question.
I feel like I should change the subject. I don't like where this is going and I don't want things to get awkward.
"So, what do you have left to finish for next week?"
"A few more casts," he tells me dully. "The installation...photographing the whole damn thing...ugh."
"Sounds like a lot to be done," I say.
"Yeah, no shit," he agrees with a sigh. "But I'll get it done."
I nod my head slowly, finally taking a bite of my salad.
"You should really eat more than that," Cameron says to me. "I mean, that's not enough. What else did you have today?"
"I forget," I admit.
"You forget?" he asks, raising an eyebrow at me. "Is that code for nothing?"
"No… I'm pretty sure I ate other stuff, I just can't remember what," I insist.
But maybe I didn't eat anything else? I really can't remember. I can never remember things like this.
"Your memory must suck," Cameron snorts.
"It does," I say.
He gives me another weird look. "Okay, well, I have to get back to the studio," he comments.
"All right," I nod. "Good luck with finishing everything."
Cameron pushes back his chair and gets up, grabbing his empty plate off the table. "Uh, no," he sneers, "come with me."
"Oh," I nod and start to stand, but Cameron points to my unfinished salad.
"Bring that with you," he demands.
"Yeah, okay," I agree, although I can't promise I'll be in the mood to finish it.
It'll probably go to waste unless he literally forces it down my throat… which he might do. I don't want to piss him off, so maybe I should just try my best to eat it.
I take it to go and then follow Cameron out of the cafeteria towards the sculpture studio. I don't really know why he wants me to come with him. Maybe he wants feedback? I'm not really good at giving feedback, though. Maybe he just wants to talk about what he's doing? That would be more my speed, I guess.
Suddenly, I'm anxious. Being around him always makes me feel this way. I don't even know why. Being around him makes me more anxious than I feel being around Avery or anyone else.
"Stop freaking out," Cameron says. I look at him and he glances back, adding, "I can literally feel how neurotic you're being. Chill out."
I'm never good at hiding these things.
"Okay," I say and soon enough we're standing in front of a door. Cameron opens it and I follow him in as he turns on the lights.
He heads towards the supply closet while I position myself leaning against one of the tables. A few moments later Cameron returns with a scoop of purple powder inside of a measuring cup.
"What's that?" I ask, pointing at it.
"Alginate powder," he tells me. "Remember? I mix it with water and it turns into that stuff I make my casts with?"
"Oh, they're not all done?" I peer into the container when Cameron sets it down beside me. "I thought you just had to break them up like you were doing last time."
"Well, I wanted to have a hundred, so I still have a couple more to do," he pours the powder into a small tub and then heads over to the utility sink, measuring out a similar amount of water. Then he crosses back over to me and starts mixing the two together.
"You wanna do it?" he asks suddenly.
"Sorry, what?"
"Do you want to be a part of my project?" he repeats. "Make up your mind because this stuff sets in like five minutes."
"I, um…" I stutter. "What?"
Cameron gives me an irritated look and then lets out a slow laugh. "You're shy? Seriously? Even after hooking up with all those old guys?"
At the mention of it, I feel my face heat up. Why did he have to bring that up?
"I'm not shy," I insist.
"Yeah, you are. Well, you don't have to do it if you don't want to."
"I'll do it," I say.
Is that why he brought me here? I guess I should be flattered. He'd probably take offense if I said no. It'll be fine, though. It's not a big deal. I've done way crazier shit. This is actually pretty mild if I want to start comparing things.
"Cool, because I was gonna say this is art. It's way different than all that other shit," Cameron keeps stirring.
"I guess," I mumble.
I wish I hadn't told him about any of that.
"You get to be a part of something cool," he explains, turning around and looking at me expectantly.
"Uh, what do you want me to do…?"
"Oh my god," he gives me this disparaging smile. "Do you really need me to tell you to like, whip your dick out?"
My face starts to get warm again. I'm probably red as a beet.
"No," I snap and start to unzip my pants. "Jeez."
Cameron gives me a warning look and I'm quick to shut the hell up. He obviously isn't looking for attitude and probably isn't going to tolerate it. He's just trying to finish his project and I shouldn't be difficult.
"Rude," he raises an eyebrow.
"Sorry," I mumble. "Just do it."
So, he does. He makes the mold and it feels cold and terrible. I can't believe that he had guys lining up to do this for fun. I mean, I can. It's obvious why. But, to me, that just seems crazy.
Surprisingly, Cameron doesn't make any sort of comment. He doesn't even really touch or look at me apart from the beginning and end. Apart from the alginate being a kind of creepy texture, I don't feel uncomfortable.
Cameron is actually super professional about the whole process, which I appreciate. That's how things should be, but for some reason, I wasn't expecting it.
"So, tell me something else about yourself," he requests, finishing up. "I feel like I've earned another fun fact."
"What do you want to know?"
"Well, where are you from?"
"LA, you know that already."
"No, I mean, like, your family. What are you?"
Oh, this question again… I've gotten it many times in the past. It's nothing new, even if it is annoying.
"I'm Jewish," I tell him.
"Yeah... makes sense," he smirks and I refrain from rolling my eyes.
Once I make myself decent, Cameron turns to me and says, "Your face is still red."
I shrug and perch myself onto an empty table. "Guess I'm shy, then."
"Yeah, you are," he says.
"Guys love it," I add.
He laughs. "Yeah, I guess we do."
"They think it means I'm naïve."
"Are you?"
"No."
He looks humored. "Maybe you're not naïve when it comes to sex, but you might be naïve about other things."
"I'm not," I insist.
"All right," he chuckles, but I can tell he thinks otherwise.
Everyone always thinks otherwise.
"I'm gonna mix up some plaster and get this set for tomorrow," he says after a minute. "Then I'll probably head out."
"Okay," I nod. "I might go back to the dorms then."
"Sounds good. I'm gonna be pretty MIA for the next week, but you should come to my senior show, especially since you're gonna be in it now, yeah?" he points at the mold that's sitting on the table.
"Sure," I agree. "I'm not doing anything."
"All right. I'll see you then."
I nod and then wave, taking that as my queue to leave. Once I'm moving down the hallway, I dump the salad into the first trash bin I pass.
On my way back to my dorm, I think back on that whole thing. I guess it's not surprising that he asked me. It doesn't really make me special. Ninety-nine other guys will have been a part of it, too. I don't really care right now, but maybe I'll feel uncomfortable about it later. I hope not, though. I just want to push it aside. Like I said, I've done way crazier shit.
It'll be weird being at his showcase and seeing it on display like that.
Whatever, though. It's done now.