JUST FRIENDS

26

Blu tugged at the collar of his button-down, a nervous tick he seemed to have developed within the last hour of criticizing his pieces for the debut.

He had just placed his final display up on a pedestal carefully, observing his work as a whole to make sure (for the hundredth time) that there was continuity, creativity, and enough uniformity that each work of art was apart of his concentration but not too much uniformity that it became repetitive.

Under his keen examination, Blu could admit that his space in the gallery was a little slice of the islands. Seafoam green forks in the shape of kelp, coral-reef pink champagne glasses with amorphous stems, just like the plants; he even went outside of his comfort zone to create a "lava lamp" that was almost as tall as him and shaped like a certain woman with a coke bottle figure which he practically knew inside and definitely out.

A lava lamp mirrored after the hills and valleys, peaks, rivers, and curves of the woman he knew best, that he'd rubbed down a thousand times, whose body his palms couldn't help but memorize...

Maze.

And he was having as much difficulty keeping her out of his art as he was his head.

She never replied to him, his text, but the read receipts were on, plus last night, he took it upon himself to check her location to discover she was at Shebazz's house to his ultimate dismay.

When he checked back again this morning, her location was turned off.

He wasn't jealous, per se, just concerned. And curious. And yes, okay, actually he was extremely fucking jealous because out of all places she could've gone to, why would she chance the possibility of rekindling something? With Shebazz, was their relationship strong enough for her to want to reopen a closed door?

Honestly, Blu wasn't so sure. The odds could've been against him but he should've been happy anyway because his work turned out even better than he imagined and he had finally received that one opportunity, shot, chance to put his pieces out not only to the world but to an audience that would actually commemorate him.

There would be critics and consumers and everything in between, his creations  were available for purchase this evening, excluding the lamp. The lamp was priceless.

If he didn't bother to think about his best friend, life was good. Great, even.

So...Who needed love if work was going exceedingly well?

Blu felt a congratulatory pat on his back, and was briefly confused before remembering that he wouldn't be the only artist presenting.

His nerves had him at the exhibit extra early, as soon as the doors opened as it was paramount that he arranged his display perfect, after the fourth time of switching everything around, he was pleased. Three-dimensional art was a different demon to tame but his favorite medium nonetheless.

The other artists that were featured in the exhibit were milling about now, setting up their spaces, stopping to congratulate and admire his work.

Taking it upon himself to network, he chatted with and helped hang pictures for the photographer, Samsara, who had a unique concentration centered around all different types of women and what they kept in their bags, pockets, or what they held in their hands from ice cream cones to lipstick, to handguns. The color palette for the photos was soft and warm, carrying an evocative dreaminess. It felt both familiar and otherworldly, with an intimacy that was intrinsic to womanhood.

They had a brief chat when most of her framed works were hung, exchanged contact information for the future before he walked around to see what the others had created.