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Alarming Art and Tepid Wine

G. B. Ralph

‘My favourite part is reading the descriptions.’

‘What, those little write-ups they have next to the art itself?’

‘Yeah, the artist’s vision,’ Gabriel said, his eyes alight.

‘OK…’ I remained unsure quite why that would be anyone’s favourite part, and I said as much.

‘Well, most of the time, the descriptions are completely unhinged. It’s nearly impossible to find any relevance to the art itself. Or, if the connection is there, it’s a real stretch at best…’

I reflected on previous occasions I’d somehow found myself wandering through art galleries. ‘There have been times I’ve wondered if I was reading the right description, or if someone had accidentally put the wrong one up.’

‘Right? Or maybe we’re just not cultured enough?’

‘Speak for yourself,’ I said, mock indignant, before switching to the loftiest, snootiest accent I could manage. ‘I think you will find I am the most civilised, refined, and sophisticated person you know.’

‘Oh, is that so, your royal highness?’ Gabriel said, not missing a beat, smiling over at me.

I couldn’t keep a straight face, laughing as I shrugged. ‘Don’t they say that art is for everyone? That we should all enjoy it in our own way?’

‘I believe they do say that. It’s all part of the experience, isn’t it? Part of the fun.’

For me, museums and art galleries tended to fall into the category of type-two fun – that is, tedious at the time, but fun in retrospect. Or if not fun, then at least interesting. I was normally just impatient to get through an exhibit, and get to the cafe at the end to debrief over a coffee and a sandwich. This time though, I was with Gabriel so had high hopes the whole experience would fall under type-one fun – that is, fun every step of the way.

I smiled to myself as I followed him down the increasingly congested footpath. We were almost walking in single file now, the two of us picking our way through the bustling mass of pedestrians streaming in all directions at the end of the working day. Then, as we navigated our way past a bus stop, I caught sight of the clock on its live arrival screen. I leant forward and raised my voice to be heard over all the people, as well as the cars and buses rumbling by. ‘Hey, shouldn’t we get a move on?’

‘Why, what’s the time?’ Gabriel said, turning his head to speak over his shoulder.

‘It’s already twenty past. And we’re still at least five minutes away.’

We weaved around a final few people before we re-emerged onto a clearer section of footpath beyond the bus stops. ‘Arthur, this is my flatmate we’re talking about here,’ Gabriel said as I came up alongside him again. ‘Theo is hardly renowned for his organisation or time management.’

‘But this is his event.’

Gabriel smiled at me and shook his head, maintaining his unhurried pace on our walk to the university. ‘Even more reason to be a bit late. He probably won’t even be there yet – that boy loves to make an entrance.’

‘Isn’t the whole point of this exhibition for him to be there? For him to present his art?’

‘Yeah, along with the rest of his Visual Arts class, not that you’d know it. The way Theo has talked about tonight, you’d think it was his solo show. No, everyone taking the course will have pieces on display. But regarding his presence, as Theo himself would say, the art speaks for itself.’

‘So he’s not even going to be at his own show?’

Gabriel laughed. ‘No, of course he’ll be there. How else is he meant to witness everyone beholding his art?’

‘And then feign humility when inundated with praise?’

‘Well, yes. Exactly that,’ Gabriel said before pausing and giving me a long, searching look. ‘But how did you know he’d…’ His expression slowly transformed into a grimace. ‘I don’t talk about Theo and Claire that much, do I?’

I couldn’t help smiling. ‘They’re your friends, and you live with them too. You spend a lot of time together, so of course you’re going to talk about them.’

‘They really are the best,’ Gabriel said, a little sheepish. ‘At least, when they’re not being the worst…’

‘I’m sure you wouldn’t have them any other way.’

‘True. And here I thought that kind of behaviour was unique to my family, that I’d escaped all that on a daily basis by coming here.’ Gabriel smiled. ‘Anyway, we’ll be there by about half past – late enough to not be kicking around an empty space and preyed on by overeager hosts, but early enough not to miss out on the best nibbles.’

‘Nibbles?’

‘Of course, it’s always about the food. How else do you think they convince university students to attend these things?’

‘You’ve got this whole hoity toity event business down to a fine art, haven’t you?’

‘Rather fitting, considering the event we’re going to.’ Gabriel smiled back at me, eyebrow raised at his own dad joke. ‘But how “fine” the art is remains to be seen.’

I couldn’t help snorting out a laugh. ‘And I suppose this’ – I waved a hand about, looking for the words – ‘this, uh, efficient event attendance system of yours is all part of your university education?’

‘I think I actually learnt this one from family get-togethers – arriving late enough to avoid being the sole focus of the grandparents, aunties, and uncles, but still early enough that all my cousins hadn’t yet demolished the best pre-lunch snacks. It’s not a tactic I’m often able to employ, but when I can, it works a treat. I was pleasantly surprised to find the same approach just as applicable out in the big, wide world.’

Who knew this guy was so pragmatic? I couldn’t help wondering if he’d employed that pragmatism and other such tactics on me… Well, if he had, they were certainly working, and I realised I was totally on board regardless.

‘Here we are,’ Gabriel said, pulling me from my thoughts.

I looked up to see a large, modern, glass-panelled building, which I was pretty sure was the architecture department’s building. ‘Isn’t this… your school?’

‘It is. Though, best not to remind Theo if we can avoid it.’

I didn’t really understand, but I couldn’t ask any follow-up questions as Gabriel had already reached a nondescript door around the side.

‘And just in case he is already here, and so he doesn’t notice we’re late’ – Gabriel had a sly smile on his face now, winking at me as he swiped his student card, releasing the latch – ‘we’re going to slip in the back door.’

I choked at the thought. ‘At least buy a guy dinner first,’ I said, flushing a bright red. Now, I know, not my greatest conversational gambit, but it was the best I could come up with after the shock of such an unexpected and salacious comment.

Gabriel opened the door for me with a flourish, his smile almost as wide as the entrance.

I couldn’t help smiling back. ‘How gentlemanly,’ I said, because apparently I could only speak in cliches now. But, in my defence, was that not the kind of thing you said when someone did something so anachronistically romantic and chivalrous? As if we were on a date or something. Then I remembered: we were on a date. And on Valentine’s Day, no less.

The walk here had been so nice and normal, so easy, that my habitual anxiety had faded into the background. How could I possibly have allowed that? But then, did I have any right to be anxious considering I had been the one to ask him out on this date? The answer was yes, of course, but despite that I think excitement remained the dominant emotion.

Now, we had been on a date only two nights ago, but that had been at Gabriel’s place. On the one hand, that came with the pressure, expectation, and anticipation of having the door to his bedroom right there. But on the other hand, it was so much more relaxed because it was just us two – plus the cats, naturally. I could be myself in the privacy of his place without feeling the eyes of strangers on me, on us – two guys who were very much not platonic mates. Though that sense of privacy had come to an abrupt end when his tipsy, horny flatmates had stumbled home earlier than expected, and with the deranged landlady hot on their heels.

As far as ‘us’ went for me and Gabriel, it was early days. In the usual course of things, I expected we would have still been far from putting a label on it. But then at the news of my friends’ engagement, I’d leapt in and asked him to come with me to the wedding, as my plus-one, my boyfriend. To my great relief he’d immediately and enthusiastically agreed, then we’d wasted no time in consummating our updated relationship status. To top it all off, apparently feeling emboldened in my lethargic post-sex glow, I’d asked him out for dinner tonight, on Valentine’s Day. That’s what boyfriends did, wasn’t it? After all, we were not just dating, or casual hookups. We were “official” now, and had been for two whole days. But I wanted to be mature about it, no writing our initials together with love hearts in bedazzled notebooks and hiding it at the back of my sock drawer, nothing like that. No, we were two adults, we were partners. I hadn’t thought of it like that before – ‘partners’ sounded rather mysterious or businesslike or transactional. Might even be considered evasive in its neutrality, as if I was playing the pronoun game, which was not my intention. Partner, lover, main squeeze… each was worse than the last. Or, perhaps I could go with ‘my man’ – that made it clear he was mine romantically, that I wasn’t pretending to be straight. There was also something about ‘my man’ that got me a little hot and bothered… Maybe that wasn’t such a good idea after all. I decided I’d stick with ‘boyfriends’, even if I felt a bit old to be using such a term.

‘You coming?’ Gabriel said, arm still holding the door, his expression drawing into a frown.

‘Uh, yeah. Yes,’ I said, followed up with an awkward laugh as I scurried past. How long had I been standing there like an idiot, mind a million miles away?

Gabriel led the way down a utilitarian corridor towards a set of doors at the far end, muffled sounds coming from beyond. I couldn’t help thinking back again to how pleased he’d looked accepting my second proposition of that evening, the promise of tonight’s Valentine’s date. But then he’d remembered he already had plans. Weeks ago, the three flatmates – Gabriel, Theo, and Claire, single one and all – had latched onto Theo’s art exhibition. It presented the perfect excuse for why they would each not be on some romantic Valentine’s Day outing.

In my drained, utterly relaxed and blissed out state, I’d waved away the concern, uncharacteristic in my serenity, and suggested we could manage both events – the art exhibition and the dinner date. No care in the world for the fact it would be impossible to make a dinner reservation so close to Valentine’s Day, nor the fact I was so far from mentally prepared to be out, in public, with my boyfriend.

And now here I was, definitely not serene, suffering the consequences of my actions. At least we’d already agreed not to exchange gifts today. Gabriel had slyly suggested we might give and receive something else instead, to which I had readily agreed. So, no heart-shaped box of chocolates, just a promise I’d be getting something much more delicious later.

I hadn’t realised my thoughts had run away with me again until they were cut short once more like they had been only moments earlier. Gabriel led us through the doors, and what had been muffled sounds became the full clamour of people chatting, wine glasses clinking, and shoes tapping on the polished concrete floor. The sounds bounced around the vast, triple-height space, with floor-to-ceiling glass on two sides.

At ground level, dividers cut the open foyer into smaller spaces, with only a few handfuls of people wandering through. Paintings and prints had been hung on the temporary partition walls; videography pieces were shown on large screens or projected onto various surfaces; and sculptures and ceramics were presented on shelves, pedestals, and plinths.

With the light touch of his hand on my lower back, Gabriel guided me to the nearby trestle table laden with pre-poured glasses of white wine and a wide selection of snacks. He’d only had his hand there for the briefest of moments, but I was still recovering from the sudden electricity of his touch as he scanned the plates of miniaturised morsels on offer. With his attention otherwise occupied, I downed a glass of the room-temperature wine in a single gulp. I quietly set the empty glass on the table before scooping up a second glass to sip and a third which I turned and passed to Gabriel. He smiled, offering me a small spinach and feta roll on a paper napkin in exchange, which I gladly accepted. The delicate, flaky pastry crumbled under my touch as Gabriel clinked his glass against mine and said, ‘Happy Valentine’s Day.’

I smiled, said it back to him and took a sip before Gabriel turned and led the way into the exhibition proper. I might have been reluctant to leave the refreshment tables behind and switch my focus to the art, but then I looked up and caught sight of what might be the most appealing piece of art in the room, not that it formed part of the exhibition itself. I knew I would happily have the view of Gabriel’s backside taking up my attention any day, and I may or may not have allowed my glance to linger a moment longer than strictly necessary. It didn’t count as perving if it was your own boyfriend, right? This was just silent, passive, grateful appreciation. At least I hoped it was…

‘I think Theo said he was going to have his pieces set up over there,’ Gabriel said as I stepped up beside him and he pointed to one side of the foyer. He’d only narrowly missed catching me in my observations. I made a mental note to focus on the actual art for the time being, hopeful that I’d have the opportunity to show Gabriel, and his various assets, some more active appreciation later.

‘We’d better go make our appearance,’ I said. I finished my spinach and feta roll on the approach, then – with some difficulty – attempted to wipe my greasy fingertips using the paper napkin held in the same hand, not willing to relinquish the wine in my other hand for even a second.

I wondered again what form or aesthetic or vibe I might find in Theo’s art as we approached his area of the exhibition space. Now, I had seen a smattering of his pieces around the apartment he shared with Gabriel and Claire, but they’d all been covered up, turned around, or tucked away in the corners – I suspected Gabriel might have had a hand in that. And my only encounters so far with Theo himself had been brief and rather dramatic, hardly lending themselves to me getting to know the guy. All in all, I had no idea what to expect—

I recognised Theo’s art immediately.

‘Oh,’ was all I could say. The pieces – primarily paintings and sculptures, but also a series of sketches – were distinctive, and Theo’s muse undeniable. ‘It is all Claire.’

‘I don’t know how I ever missed it,’ Gabriel said, shaking his head. The facial expressions, the hair, the skin tone, the shape of the figure, everything – there could be no mistaking who inspired these pieces.

‘It’s practically a shrine, an open love letter to her… I thought you said Claire and Theo had only just started dating?’

‘They have.’

‘How, uh, how did he create all this so fast?’

‘He didn’t. He’s been working on these all semester.’

‘In your apartment?’

‘Yep.’

‘In full view of you and Claire?’

Gabriel flashed his eyes at me, a smirk touching his lips. ‘Yep.’

‘Well,’ I said, unsure quite how to continue. ‘He’s not subtle, is he?’

‘Not in the slightest. As I say, I can’t see how I missed it.’

‘And Claire doesn’t find it… unsettling?’

‘She does indeed find it unsettling.’ I whipped my head around at the interruption to find someone had appeared immediately behind us. The newcomer sported an oversized jacket with buttons done right up to the neck, which was itself wrapped in a lightweight patterned scarf. She wore heavy foundation, a vibrant shade of lipstick, and a large hat pulled so low I could barely see her eyebrows, let alone the hair on her head. She had the appearance of someone who’d dressed herself in the dark for a costume party but couldn’t decide whether she was going as Betty White or Carmen Sandiego…

‘Uh—’

‘Claire,’ Gabriel said, his eyes alive with mischief. ‘This is hardly your usual style, or the light-touch approach you typically take to makeup… You look practically unrecognisable.’

‘That is the entire idea, I assure you,’ Gabriel’s flatmate said.

‘Yes, wow,’ I said, unsure where to even start. ‘Quite the transformation.’

‘Thank you, Arthur,’ she said before swiping Gabriel’s wine without warning and knocking it back in one go, screwing up her face as she swallowed. ‘I need this more than you.’

I glanced between the art and the muse, disguised though she was. ‘It’s not so bad, is it?’

Claire thrust the lipstick-stained glass back at Gabriel and nodded her head to the refreshment table. ‘Be a dear, would you?’

Gabriel shook his head, but couldn’t conceal the smirk. He turned to me before heading off. ‘You OK?’

I looked down at my glass, already only a quarter full, though I remained conscious of the entire glass I’d downed only minutes earlier. ‘I’m good for now.’

‘All right, then,’ he said before looking at his flatmate pointedly. ‘Claire?’

‘Yes?’

‘Behave.’

She rolled her eyes and waved him away, while I was left wondering what she was supposed to be behaving about. When Gabriel was out of earshot, she slowly turned to me. ‘I know you’re more intelligent than that, Arthur.’

Not what I’d anticipated. And we’d barely even met, so she couldn’t possibly know what level of intellect to expect from me. I had to ask, ‘More intelligent than what? How would you know—’

‘Gabriel won’t shut up about you, OK? So don’t you worry, I know plenty – it’s quite embarrassing of him, actually.’ She paused, letting out a theatrical sigh. I wanted to enquire further, but before I could corral my thoughts into any sort of tactful and subtly probing query, she carried on. ‘And so, I know you’re not so dense that you don’t understand why having my likeness splashed all over this little exhibit might make me uncomfortable – that I would find it “unsettling”, as you said yourself.’ She looked at me expectantly, one eyebrow shooting up into the brim of her hat.

I grimaced, and couldn’t help looking around at the art again before turning back to Claire in her role as Betty Sandiego. ‘I guess I was just trying—’

‘I know what you were trying to do, and in a different situation I might have appreciated it. You’re far too nice, Arthur. I just need to get through this thing, so please hold back on expressing any polite interest in Theo’s art in front of the artist himself, any friendly enquiries about his inspiration or methods or whatever.’

‘Because it will pull focus onto you.’

‘Precisely,’ Claire said, sighing as she tugged her hat a little lower. ‘If I was pretending to be selfless about it, I would say I didn’t want to distract people from the art, but really I’d rather not have the attention. Having strangers making the connection would feel like – like…’

‘An invasion of privacy?’

‘Yes! That’s exactly it. See, I knew you had something going on between those ears of yours.’ Hardly an unqualified compliment, but I suppose I’d take it. ‘It’s awkward enough having you guys know it’s me. Still, I am here, being as supportive as I can bring myself to be, but I know there’s a limit. I can only hope the source of his inspiration has shifted by the time his next exhibit comes around. For now, I think the less said about all this, the better.’

I conceded she was probably right as Gabriel reappeared, two glasses of wine and more miniature morsels in hand. ‘What’s for the better?’

‘Uh—’

‘That we have these little snacks taking the edge off all the booze I’ll be knocking back to get through this evening,’ Claire said as she accepted a fresh glass.

‘Where is the man of the hour, anyway?’ Gabriel said.

‘Don’t let him hear you say that.’

As if on cue, Theo appeared, swinging out of the elevator casted leg first. Since I’d last seen him stumbling crab-like through the apartment, his coordination with the crutches had improved in leaps and bounds, so to speak. He crossed the space between us in no time, with idle exhibition attendees shocked into shuffling aside lest they get bowled over.

‘Claire! There you are,’ Theo said, clomping to a stop beside us. ‘I lost you when you took off up the stairs.’

Claire’s face was unreadable as she said, ‘I didn’t want to, um, detract from the artist making his entrance.’

‘Fair. That’s fair,’ Theo said, nodding, apparently appeased as he stepped away to scan around his section of the exhibition.

‘I’m sure it has nothing to do with being seen coming in together,’ Gabriel said, quietly so only Claire and I could make out the words, a teasing smile on his face. ‘People making connections between the artist’s companion and his subject?’

Claire glared at him as Theo turned back to us, none the wiser.

‘Sorry, I had to check Diane hadn’t gone through and rearranged everything again. “Just making everything presentable, professional,”’ he said in a ridiculous falsetto. ‘She should know better than to micromanage an artist – everything is already in its rightful place.’

Then, as if only just realising I wasn’t some random art aficionado lurking next to his undercover girlfriend, he propped a crutch against his side and thrust out a hand to me. ‘Arthur, my man! And with a shirt on too.’ He looked down at my chest, his eyes flashing with amusement as he shook my hand.

I felt my ears heating up at the memory. ‘Yeah, sorry about that.’

‘Oh no,’ he said, ‘it should be us apologising, crashing back into the apartment like that without warning.’

‘It really is fine.’

‘Still, not ideal, is it? Getting all hot and heavy on the couch with this guy, then the flatmates turn up at—’

‘Yes, Theo,’ Gabriel said, cutting him off. ‘We all remember.’

Theo smiled at me. ‘I trust Gabriel made up for it later? Looked after you good and proper?’

‘All right, that’s it, we’re leaving,’ Gabriel said, already turning to me to check I was ready to go.

‘No! No, no,’ Theo said, clambering to get his right arm back into the crutch and get ahead of us. ‘Not yet, I only just got here.’

‘And whose fault is that? We’ve been here plenty long enough as it is.’

‘Just a little longer? I’d feel bad for my classmates if no-one came and spent time viewing their work too.’

Gabriel scoffed. ‘How considerate of you.’

Theo said nothing, just stood there looking hopeful and helpless.

‘Fine,’ Gabriel said, holding up a hand in concession, ‘Arthur and I will do one more lap then come back to make appreciative noises in front of your pieces again.’

Theo beamed, then turned to me. ‘Isn’t he the best?’

He may have meant it as some run-of-the-mill platitude, but I couldn’t help taking the words literally. The surge in my chest was so sudden and unexpected that it took me a moment to stutter out my agreement, and in doing so, losing any chance at playing it cool. Gabriel shook his head, whether at me or his flatmate, I couldn’t tell, but then he led us away to the refreshment table to replenish our wines and pick up another snack. ‘Sustenance,’ was all he said.

‘For “one more lap”, was it? After all those other laps we’ve already done of the exhibition?’ I said, having finally regained the mental capacity for something a little more light-hearted, and a little less demonstrative of the internal squishiness I felt regarding my boyfriend.

‘I couldn’t very well have him knowing we’d just arrived after giving him stick for being late, could I?’

‘Very true,’ I said. ‘And we’re here now. Look at us, supporting the arts and all that.’

‘We are cultured, after all.’ Gabriel clinked his glass against mine before we embarked on our maiden lap of the place.

The first sculpture we encountered was titled The World as We Know It with the accompanying description discussing capitalism, competition, and cannibalism. The sculpture itself reminded me of the ouroboros, but instead of a snake or dragon biting its own tail, it had a pair of dogs taking bites out of each others’ flanks. ‘That’s a bit gruesome, isn’t it?’

‘A bit on the nose, I’d say,’ Gabriel said. ‘The sculpture looks well constructed though.’

The next piece along was a stretched canvas painted with rough brush strokes of black or near-black paint – the title read The Future is Bright. The one after that was a large photograph of a small, yellow rubber ducky, upside-down and partially submerged in a muddy puddle, titled Plastic, People, Planet.

Eyes wide, I couldn’t help puffing out my cheeks as I turned to face Gabriel. ‘It’s all rather heavy, isn’t it?’

‘“Bleak” is the word, I think,’ he said, taking a deep gulp of his wine.

But then we turned a corner to find the next group of students had taken a wildly different approach to their art. I let out an inarticulate and very unattractive squeal at the jarring shift in content. The paintings, sketches, and photographs hung from the partition walls were full of life. They were all so colourful and provocative, but it was the sculpture in the centre of the space that stole the show. It appeared to be a thick, squat, five-foot high, fluorescent pink dildo. The length of the shaft from flared base to bulbous head was studded with domes of varying size, and just below the head were two arm-like extrusions – one appeared to be a butt plug, and the other had some kind of suction cup on the end. When I finally tore my eyes from the piece itself, I saw the title – Sexterminate! – and I couldn’t stop myself from making another undignified noise, this one more akin to a snort.

I then made the mistake of catching Gabriel’s eye and together we descended into a fit of poorly suppressed laughter, barely able to breathe, and quite unable to see through the tears in our eyes. Just as we thought we might be coming out the other side, one of us would inadvertently make a face and set the other going again. I was too far gone to even read what the artist had to say about their piece, and after a minute I had to drag us both around the corner and out of sight so we could regain our composure.

‘I feel bad,’ Gabriel said, still trying to dampen down his lingering smile.

‘Yeah, I hope the artist wasn’t there – don’t want them to think we were mocking their work or anything.’

‘It was just so…’

‘Alarming?’

‘Yeah. And unexpected.’

‘It gave me a fright, all right,’ I said.

We were still smiling when we rounded the last corner, finishing our circuit as we came back into sight of Theo’s exhibition area. The artist himself was speaking to a clutch of undergraduates gathered around a particularly revealing painting of his. Claire maintained a safe distance, lurking on the periphery, close enough to feasibly be showing support, but far enough away that she could make a hasty escape if anyone should make any unwanted connections with the art’s primary subject.

‘Theo seems to have things under control now, doesn’t he?’ I said. ‘And I suspect Claire is as comfortable as she’s going to get while still in the vicinity…’

‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking, Arthur?’

‘I think I am, Gabriel.’

Then, I said, ‘Leave them to it?’ at the same time as Gabriel said, ‘Let’s ghost him.’

We shared a guilty smile, slowly turning away before Gabriel stopped, a grim expression on his face. ‘As tempting as that sounds, I think I’d better not.’

And as much as I wanted to get on with our Valentine’s Day date proper, I had to concede I would’ve felt bad about it as well. ‘Come on then,’ I said, laughing as we turned around again to head over towards his flatmates.

‘After the reaction I got on Thursday night, I’m trying to play the role of easy-going and supportive flatmate for a while.’

‘The reaction after you, uh, questioned the wisdom of them hooking up?’

‘Yeah… you know, dating someone who’s not only a friend, but a friend you’re already living with. If things went south, well, it could get very uncomfortable for everyone involved.’

‘One must avoid shitting in one’s own nest.’

‘Indeed,’ Gabriel said, followed by a short, sharp laugh. ‘I’m a few years older than them, and they’ve already taken to calling me “Gramps” half the time – have you noticed? Anyway, I’m trying to avoid completing my transformation into our apartment’s resident old curmudgeon. Next thing you know I’ll be out on the balcony in a rocking chair, shouting at youths to get off my non-existent yard.’

As amused as I was by the image he’d conjured, I assured him it wouldn’t come to that. Then, with a flippancy I could only dream of applying to myself, I said, ‘As far as Theo and Claire’s great romance goes, it’ll either work out or it won’t.’

‘I know, I know,’ Gabriel said, with an expression that was closer to grimace than smile. ‘And regardless of how it goes, you’ll have front-row seats to this potential shitshow too, right alongside me.’

Sudden and unexpected, that last little comment slammed me in the chest, the second such hit for the night. If Gabriel kept up this onslaught, I didn’t know if I’d make it through Valentine’s Day, not without melting into a sopping puddle of mush and emotion.

We arrived at one of the many artistic depictions of Claire as Theo’s little crowd of admirers moved on. The real Claire remained hovering at a safe distance.

Theo was looking rather puffed up and pleased with himself. By way of greeting, he said, ‘Now, isn’t this’ – he gestured grandly at the large foyer around them – ‘a much better use of this space? Rather than being some desolate expanse, void of any inspiration, only serving as something architecture students must traverse to reach their classes. No, today it is filled with real art.’

The way Gabriel scoffed at Theo’s comment, I had to assume this was familiar territory for these two. ‘Architecture is art—’

Theo blew a raspberry. ‘No it’s not.’

‘Yes, it is,’ Gabriel said, calm yet determined. ‘Art that is practical and functional.’

‘You might as well be engineers for all the flair you wannabe architects have in your designs.’

Gabriel rolled his eyes. ‘Engineers think much the same regarding the artistic nature of architecture. They just think we’re completely detached from reality, and – you’ll love this – like our designs are too artistic. Utter fantasy, unbuildable.’

‘Well, what is the point, then?’ Theo said. ‘If architecture is visually unappealing and practically unbuildable… it sounds like you’re stuck in the middle, the worst of both worlds.’

‘Counterpoint,’ Gabriel said, holding up a finger, ‘architecture is the best of both worlds—’

‘Now, boys,’ Claire said, her tone stern as she swooped in.

Theo smiled at the appearance of his muse. She didn’t have to say anything further by way of mediation as any snarkiness about Gabriel’s chosen profession apparently evaporated in that instant. He turned to Gabriel and said, ‘We shall agree to disagree.’

‘So generous of you.’

‘You just wait until you see my presentation later in the year,’ Claire said before the boys got going again. ‘Now that will be art.’

‘But…’ Theo started, his face a picture of confusion. ‘But, you do… rocks?’

‘And?’

‘Does the geology department do an exhibition for everyone’s rock collections?’

Claire didn’t respond directly, only patted Theo on the forearm and shook her head. ‘I will be presenting my thesis – my research, analysis, results, and conclusions. I expect you all to be in attendance.’ She gestured around, reminding us that we were here, at Theo’s presentation, after all.

‘Only fair,’ Gabriel said, shrugging.

‘This will be, like, a lecture? Given by you?’ Theo said, still unsure what was expected of him.

‘Yes.’

‘About rocks?’

After a pause, Claire once more said, ‘Yes.’

Theo thought about it for a moment, searching his girlfriend’s face for any clues, then slowly and tentatively he said, ‘I’m looking forward to it?’

‘I am happy to hear that.’

‘Yes,’ Gabriel said. ‘I’m sure we’re all looking forward to it, but right now I’m looking forward to dinner with this one.’

‘Probably for the best you get out of here,’ Theo said, smiling wide, ‘you’re bringing down the tone.’

‘What are you lovebirds up to tonight, then?’ Claire said.

‘It was a bit tricky getting a reservation last minute,’ I said, wincing. ‘So we’re getting dumplings, they only take walk-ins—’

‘At the place on the corner, by the park?’ Theo said urgently. ‘With that huge old mural and the laminated menus with the little photos of the food, and that fierce old lady who refuses to take orders in English?’

I smiled. ‘That’s the one.’

‘Oh,’ he said, eyes wide as he turned to Claire. ‘Can we go too?’

‘Why are you asking me?’

He whipped around to me and Gabriel. Gabriel bugged his eyes out at Claire, tilting his head towards me, and jerking his head subtly yet sharply from one side to the other.

‘Theo,’ Claire said. ‘I think we should let these two go on their date alone. It is Valentine’s Day, after all. Perhaps we can do something ourselves after you’re finished here.’

‘But—’

‘Something back at the apartment.’

‘Back at the—’

‘The apartment that we will have all to ourselves.’

‘Oh…’ Theo’s smile grew wider and wider, before turning back to us. ‘Have fun,’ he said, ‘and take your time.’

I could see Gabriel trying to hide a smirk, but with limited success. ‘I’ll be sure to send a message when we’re on our way back.’

‘Yes, smart move.’

‘OK, we’re off,’ Gabriel said. ‘Good show, Theo.’

‘Thanks, Gramps,’ he said. ‘And don’t forget to over-order and bring the leftovers home with you.’

‘You’d be so lucky.’

‘Hey, my faculty put on the wines and appetisers – it is the least you could do.’

‘We’ll see.’

‘Thanks for inviting us this evening, Theo. It’s been…’ I said, trailing off when I realised I didn’t know how to finish the sentence.

‘Unique,’ Claire said from beneath the brim of her hat. ‘It has been a unique evening.’

‘That’s the right word for it,’ Gabriel said with an amused expression. We turned to leave, and had gone barely a step when he placed his hand on my lower back again. It sent a flurry rushing through me, just as it had the first time. A light touch, communicating once more that he was there, and that we’d be heading off together, but without it being weird or possessive. I found it telling that my body’s immediate reaction was not to jerk away, but to lean into the contact. Not so very long ago, I would have baulked at the touch. The fear that being in such close proximity to another guy would be seen by others, and the implications they would draw.

He dropped his hand back to his side as we stepped outside and headed off campus.

‘Ditching Theo and Claire back there… You just want me all to yourself, don’t you?’ I said in mock accusation.

Gabriel looked my way, lifted an eyebrow and smiled. ‘So what if I do?’

I should’ve expected such a response, but for some reason I hadn’t. I suddenly found I had to clear my throat and couldn’t help the smile that tugged at my lips.

After that we fell into a comfortable silence as we walked towards the dumpling restaurant. I didn’t trust myself with any further teasing remarks, or flirtatious banter. Besides, it was nice just walking with him.

I didn’t know if it was because I was coupled off myself, or the fact it was Valentine’s Day, but I couldn’t help noticing all the loved-up pairings on our way. A couple walking side by side up the street in front of us, one with a hand in the back pocket of the other. I mean, it was a weird thing to do, and physically how was it not super awkward? Regardless, it was kind of cute.

Then outside a cookie stall – the waft of freshly baked cookies like a beacon drawing in passersby – another pair stood, one with an arm around the other’s shoulder as they looked up at the menu listing the various delicious options. And still more couples – presumably more organised than myself – who were sitting across from each other at small restaurant tables, smiling and chatting, eating and drinking.

I might have found the whole thing sickly sweet if I wasn’t feeling something of the same myself.

I was out – in both meanings of the word. Out for dinner, and with my boyfriend at my side. We were on a date. In public. It was very much romantic, and not at all platonic. And I found that I was OK with that, more than OK. I didn’t fool myself into thinking I hadn’t done away with all my hang-ups, but any apprehensiveness I still clung onto paled in comparison to how happy I was right in that moment.

As we walked, I glanced down and saw Gabriel’s hand swinging unconsciously between us. Without thinking too hard about what I was doing, for fear I’d freak myself out and abort, I reached across the small distance between us, pressed my palm to his and wrapped my fingers around his hand, feeling the warmth in his grip as I matched the slight swing of his arm.

Gabriel looked over at me, a small smile on his lips that reached all the way to his eyes. I couldn’t help smiling in return as he gave my hand a squeeze before turning back to face the way we were going.

It may not have been the first time we’d had our hands together, but it felt different, somehow more significant, and it felt right. I had my boyfriend at my side, walking hand in hand, with delicious dumplings in our very near future. I couldn’t wait to see what else we might be in for.

---

The story continues…

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