By the middle of the second month as a model for Wayne’s art class, I had, reluctantly or not, formed an attachment to the man. I wouldn’t be sharing that with him anytime soon, if ever. He was damaged goods and far be it from me to impose my desire on someone so vulnerable. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I hurt him.
I fixed the air-conditioning issue in his car at the end of the first month of class, for which he was grateful. I truly enjoyed his company—too much, probably. And Marco, the runt, teased me mercilessly about it, because he could read me like a book. Brothers. The guys at work? They asked me which dude I was sexing up, since I was actually smiling, every once in a while. I flipped them off.
Wayne and I had begun a routine of going out to eat after class on Tuesda
