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Archie loves Tuesdays. His Tuesday schedule has a nice break in between Bio lab and 2-d, long enough to stop and browse in the art bookshop and get a bagel and coffee at the cart outside the Fine Arts building. 2-d is empty before his class, so he always goes in early and eats his bagel while reading the Daily Student--sometimes the comics are even funny.
When Monica comes in at about five 'til, he's already set out his kit and taped a fresh sheet of paper onto his easel board. He's excited about this class--it's their first live model. They'd spent the first semester doing linework, still lifes, and landscapes, and then the second semester was a long slow buildup from photos to self-portraits to today. Archie had felt a burst of energy when he had spotted the couch at the front of the room where Professor Ibbot's giant desk usually stood, now dragged off to one side and left carelessly at an angle. That energy plus the coffee has him wound a little tightly, and Monica laughs at his busily tapping foot as she sits down and opens her backpack. They chat a little as their classmates file in.
Monica laughs again when Archie accidentally kicks over his portfolio, and of course Professor Ibbot chooses just that moment to walk in from the hallway. There's a scruffy guy with messy reddish hair wearing a dark blue robe behind him: their model. Ibbot introduces him as "David," and Archie starts so hard he nearly kicks the portfolio over again. In the first few weeks of first semester, Ibbot had given him several mean lectures about his clumsiness, but guilt hadn't made him graceful and by now Archie gets either a tired clucking noise or no reaction at all; happily today it was the latter. Monica and his other classmates usually chuckled when he displayed his usual klutziness, but today everyone but Monica was too absorbed in the task at hand, all of them taping up their sheets and setting out their pencils.
Professor Ibbot tells the model--David--to lie on the couch with one arm and one leg up, and while he disrobes and arranges himself Ibbot gives the class his customary instruction lecture. Sometimes it's helpful--he's really gifted at perspective--but most of the time he's just insulting. Archie tries to look like he's paying attention, but today it's just washing over him. He can't stop staring at the model.
Naked man! his brain shouts. Really cute naked man! He's seen a couple of naked men before when he was allowed to look, and, like, in the showers in gym class and stuff like that when he really wasn't. But this is totally different. He's not just allowed to look, he's supposed to look. He has to look! You can't draw what you can't see.
Archie looks around himself and realizes that about half the class already has charcoal to paper, but the rest are staring like he is. Or rather they aren't--they're looking, calmly, like artists contemplating their subject. They're not thinking naked man naked man, because they're grownups and professionals and he needs to chill out.
After a couple of minutes of deep breaths and looking only at the model's feet--they're a little hairy, and pale, and he's hung them off the edge of the couch so the angle is kind of weird. His angles are all kind of weird, both his body and his position. Archie can't help but think that he must be uncomfortable, with one arm along the back of the couch and one curled over his own stomach, his head half-propped up on the armrest. Archie can't imagine trying to hold that position for two whole hours, but maybe the model is used to it. Maybe he's a contortionist. Who knows.
He's kind of...beautiful, whoever he is and whatever he does. He's not... good-looking, exactly. His hair is a mess and he's not super muscular. Archie's initial shock has petered out, and now he's looking everywhere--the curve of the model's ear, his long forehead, the tattoos on his arms and chest, his slightly-bent knee, his dark pubic hair and soft penis. The model's eyes are closed, and he looks relaxed, like he doesn't mind being looked at. The room is dead silent but for the scratch of pencils on paper and the soft tick of the industrial clock on the wall above the blackboard, and Archie realizes with a start that he's spent ten minutes staring instead of drawing.
Archie's favorite thing about drawing, about painting, about anything artistic, is the place he goes when he's working. It's his version of meditation. His hands are present, his eyes are present, and some part of him stays behind to animate them, but the creation happens without any conscious thought. When he's thinking hard he's not productive: those are the days in class when he sharpens his pencils more than he draws with them, and what little gets on the paper isn't worth looking at. Professor Ibbot is mean every day but particularly mean on those; the first time he'd spoken to Archie in class he'd nodded at Archie's easel and said, "If I went in the studio and came up with that I'd know I had a long day ahead of me," which wasn't very helpful. He hadn't made Archie cry yet, unlike about three-fourths of the rest of the class, although he had certainly provoked a wide range of other strong emotions.
Ibbot retreated to his office at some point after his lecture, probably taking a nap like the time he'd set up a display of vases and pears for their month on arranged still-life (they'd been able to hear him snoring in his office down the hallway from the classroom). Archie doesn't care what Ibbot or anyone is doing; he's in that zone, almost totally unaware of what his hands are doing. He'd begun with the softest pencil in his kit (his favorite) to block out shadows, and it's time to move up to a harder line.
Three pencils later, he comes back to himself enough to worry about how much time he has left and glances away from the model to the clock--twenty minutes. It's not going to be enough, but even with the pears and vases it was never enough. He'll just have to hope he's committed enough of the scene to paper--how the light hit the model's body and the perspective and the shapes of the model himself--to finish the drawing for the next class. They're allowed to stay after if they need to, thank goodness, because Archie always needs to. He didn't sign up for a class for two hours after 2-d because he knows his own working habits well after having a much more tightly-packed schedule last semester.
He keeps sketching furiously up until the last few minutes, trying to keep his mind as far away as possible, until the noise of toolboxes closing and portfolios rustling makes it too hard to concentrate. He finally lowers his arm, but he's still watching when the model finally opens his eyes and accepts his robe from Professor Ibbot, who must have set an alarm. That time with the vases and pears he'd just never returned to class, which had been fine because it wasn't like they'd missed him.
Monica's packed up, and she leans over to see his work before she takes off. "That's wonderful," she says, and he smiles at her in thanks.
"I'll see yours later. Don't be late," he reminds her, because her next class is more than halfway across campus.
"Yeah, yeah," she says; punctuality is not one of her primary life concerns. "Thanks for the coffee." She toasts the empty cup at him and tosses it in the wastebasket near the door on her way out. He doesn't even know when she stole it; probably while his brain was reeling. David turns his attention back to his work. It's pretty decent, he won't have to start over from scratch on a new page the way he sometimes does, when he can't reach his zone. He's a little surprised that he managed it today, what with, well, cute naked men lying around like that.
He's just finished putting his pencils away and is reaching to latch his toolbox when there's a voice at his side. "Hey, that's good," a low voice says, and David jumps a foot in his chair, knocking over his toolbox and knowing that it's the formerly-nude model speaking to him. He sits up straight and tries to pretend that he doesn't want to smack his own forehead in horror at his clumsiness.
"Thanks," he says instead, with effort, and kneels down to the floor to start picking up pencils and erasers. They haven't gone far, at least. Usually when he knocks over his toolbox everything spreads to the four corners of the room. His favorite sharpener is still here somewhere, he's pretty sure.
The model--David--crouches beside him to help; he's changed into jeans and a black t-shirt that reads "Talk Nerdy To Me." His hair is more mussed than before, and it occurs to Archie that Professor Ibbot might not have been the only one to have taken a nap. Though how anyone could be so still while they slept, Archie doesn't know.
David picks up two charcoal and a regular graphite pencil and adds them to Archie's toolbox before he says, "So you're David too, right?" At Archie's confused look he explains, "I saw you react when Ibbot introduced me. Happens all the time, there are so damn many of us."
It's true; Archie's always turning his head when moms call for their sons in the grocery store or at the mall. He nods to David and puts the last eraser in his kit, and they both stand up. "Yeah. There are four others on my floor in the dorm, so I go by Archie now."
"What, is that your middle name? Archibald?" David's eyes are a bright hazel and his smile is adorable. Archie's glad he hadn't smiled before he'd modeled or it would have been a lot more difficult for him to concentrate.
"No, my last name's Archuleta," he explains.
"Ah, gotcha," David says. "Nice to meet you, Archie. You can really draw--this has to be your major, right?" He's gesturing at the drawing, and Archie pauses to think that it must be weird to look at a naked picture of yourself but David seems perfectly comfortable.
Archie starts removing the tape on the bottom corners in order to take down the work, giving him something to do with his hands so he can't wave them around. "Yeah, but I'm mostly a painter," he says.
"So the girl next to you, earlier, was that your girlfriend? Hers was good too," David says, and for the first time there's a little awkwardness in his voice and all the sudden Archie clues in to what's going on here--David's interested in him! This is a pick-up! He'd been absolutely terrible at recognizing it when he'd first started college, but now he's a jaded--well, at least as jaded as he's probably ever going to get--second-semester sophomore, and apparently one who was cute enough to have fielded a fair number of pick-up attempts. He had awkwardly misunderstood a handful, awkwardly refused more, and hideously-awkwardly accepted a couple (which had mostly gone well once the awkwardness faded).
Archie smiles to let David off that tenterhook: "No, I'm not really into girls. She's my roommate, we're in Phillips," he says, choosing to go with the simplest explanation. He figures David is probably aware of the new high-rise coed dorm. He peels the top two pieces of tape off the drawing.
"Oh," David says, and he smiles too. "So, Archie, could I buy you lunch? Unless you have a class--"
"No class till three," Archie says, his smile widening into a grin as he puts the drawing away carefully in his portfolio and zips it up.
They end up at Tina's, a little cafe about three blocks west of the Fine Arts building. It's tiny inside, with just three tables, and they're never busy--Archie knows because one of his floormates, Lindsey, works here and is always worried that they're on the brink of closing. So Archie tries to come and have lunch once a week. It's quiet and the sandwiches are good, and if Lindsey is working she'll give him a free refill on his root beer.
It turns out that David graduated two years before from the same program. "I started modeling my second year," he explains. "My degree is in graphic design, so I saw the advertisements for models around the building. I was broke all the time, and I've never had much in the way of modesty or any real embarrassment about public nudity--It's just never been a big deal to me--and the money is pretty good so when they call me I keep coming in."
"Do you have a regular job too?" Archie asks, opening the bag of chips that came with his sandwich.
"Not in graphic design," David answers. "Not much like that in this town. I'm in a band, we play as many shows as we can get."
"A band!" Archie exclaims. "What do you play?" He was already feeling pretty excited about David--he's cute and funny and seems totally awesome--but now he feels like he's had a triple espresso rather than root beer and half a cup of coffee two hours ago.
"I play guitar and piano, and I sing," David says, and the look on his face says clearly that Archie's excitement is a little too cute. His suitemates make fun of his small-child-like enthusiasm pretty often, so he's familiar with the look. Archie's family is used to it, so it had taken being away from home for him to recognise the tell-tale expression that means "Oh look, isn't he adorable."
Archie is about to bust out with at least five questions at once, some jumble of "what kind of music do you play" and "who are your influences" and "oh my god, is playing in bars and stuff awesome?" when David cuts him off. "What do you play?"
Archie is about to ask him how he knew when he realizes that the whole puppy enthusiasm-thing gave him away, so he just tells David that he plays piano and a little guitar and sings, mostly in church, and then he goes straight on with all his other questions. David answers them all and asks Archie for all his answers and more besides, and they manage to talk straight through Archie's three-o'clock European History class.
Archie is a little horrified to have skipped his first class, and then further embarrassed by David's amusement about how he's never skipped before. David walks Archie back to his dorm--it's on the way to the parking garage, up near the stadium--and they trade phones to put in their numbers.
David touches Archie's elbow, just a gesture as Archie turns to go inside, and it feels both warm and a little electric. Archie can't remember how he gets upstairs.
*
Two hours later, Monica comes home from the library and sets her stuff down on the floor next to the couch where Archie is practicing guitar. They talk about her last class, a sculpture studio and her favorite although Archie can't imagine enjoying being covered in clay for hours at a time. The art major requires beginning 3-d, but Archie had completed the minimum one semester and had happily retreated to the refuge of 2-d.
Archie remembers that he hasn't seen Monica's drawing of David--of their model, so he asks to see it and she unzips her portfolio and flips through to find it. She takes it out and holds it up; it's lovely. She has a real way with pencils, especially for a sculptor. It's David, but it's also kind of vague and hazy, more an impression than a representation the way Archie's is. Archie admires it for a little too long, thinking about David's long legs, and something in his expression must give him away just like when Monica knew with both guys he'd dated last year when he'd come home from a good date.
"Arrrrrrchie," she says. "Tell me you did not chat up our nude model."
Archie laughs, just a little guiltily. "I totally did. Well, he chatted me up. But there was chatting! And then there was lunch."
"Lunch!" Monica squeals, doing her usual little dance of victory and waving her fists around.
"Lunch until nearly four in the afternoon," Archie clarifies, so she can get the whole picture. "And I got his number."
"Fast work, son," she tells him, still rocking out a little, even though Archie's guitar has been silent since she came in and the only thing passing for music in their suite is the sound of people thumping by outside in the hall. "Do you like him? Are you going to call?"
"Oh yeah," Archie says, in answer to the first, and "I don't need to call him--I'm going to see him tomorrow! He asked me to dinner!"
"Dinner!" Monica practically shouts, and Archie cracks up. Monica is a little too easy to please sometimes, especially regarding Archie's romantic exploits. One time when she was drunk she'd told him that she thought he needed a cheerleader to help him get up the nerve to talk to guys. Archie had definitely been shy when he'd gotten to college, but he was pretty sure she was overstating the case. Either way, though, it was nice to have some encouragement--and he was feeling pretty much on top of the world right now.
Archie sets his guitar to one side to impart one final, crucial detail. "And I'm seeing him again on Friday when his band is playing a show upstairs at Kilroy's..."
"Oh my god he's in a band," she says, and flails so hard she nearly falls right off the couch, which was exactly the reaction Archie was going for. "You have two dates with a very hot nude model who is in a band! You win at college! That is the freaking boy jackpot! Holy shit!"
Archie winces a little because he still hates it when people swear--Monica is nice enough to try not to around him, and she claps a hand over her mouth to let him know that it was unintentional. She gets excited sometimes, although apparently not as much as he does because none of their suitemates have special terms for it like they do with Archie. And he is, at least at this moment, feeling pretty darn stoked.
They sit there in silence for a minute, grinning hugely at each other, until Monica's renewed victory dance slows--she'd started again after Archie mentioned David's band--and she straightens up. "Hang on. You've already seen him naked! Doesn't that kind of spoil the fun a little?"
Archie rolls his eyes at her. "Of course not! But I've, uh...been thinking of it as a preview," he admits, and she bursts out laughing and hits him with a throw pillow.
"Archie, you're so bad," she laughs. "Oh, this is awesome. Little Archie, once so sweet and shy, now all grown up and turning the heads of hot older guys..."
"Okay, okay, that's enough," he says, motioning for her to calm down. "...But it is totally awesome."
They both work on catching their breaths from all the laughing, and once they're sighing in relieved mirth Archie catches Monica eyeing him mischievously again.
"If you date a nude model you've drawn, does that make your artwork qualify as porn? Do you want my sketch for your stash?" She's trying to look as innocent as possible while still giggling.
"Oh, that's it," says Archie, and she springs off the couch towards her room so he can chase her. Sometimes she is way too much like Claudia--why couldn't he have gotten nice, sedate, studious suitemates--but he'd have to admit he likes it. And he has to admit it out loud only a few minutes later when Monica manages to run past him and get him in a loose headlock until he says uncle. Or her version of uncle, which is actually "Monica is awesome."
"And I am so awesome," she continues once he's finally uttered the words, "that I promise not to tease you too much when you're getting ready for your dates and also to make sure you don't wear anything stupid."
That would have cried out for a retaliatory noogie except that Monica is the best stylist ever, and if she picks out his clothes he'll look amazing and David will fall for him like a rock. "I accept your terms," he says solemnly.
She does pick out his clothes for his dates, and he looks amazing, and David does fall for him. And Archie falls too. David is happy to model for Archie, nude or not, whenever he wants, and his band is amazing. Archie thinks that college is everything he could ever have imagined and more, and he's not even a senior yet.