Lennox. Me. & Apartment C.

018.

"So, MJ, tell me about yourself," Isaiah started as we left The Cellar. Not going to lie, I thought it was strange that Isaiah called me 'MJ.' In every other aspect of my life, I've always been Quinn-- professors called me that and that's how I introduced myself to him and everyone. Maybe it's because I was just on the stage and had a banner with 'MJ' on it behind me and that's how I had been introduced. I ignored it though. If someone behind me called me 'MJ,' I'd still respond. Him not calling me Quinn wasn't a big deal.

"Well, I'm a philosophy and French double major."

"Wow, so Foucault, Rousseau, Sartre, Descartes? Those guys?" Isaiah asked.

"Uh, yeah," I started. "That's sort of the overlap when you get into French philosophy, which is cool. I did take a class in it, but I'm also just studying the French language itself."

"Oh, wow, sorry! I bet that was super man-splainy of me-- of course, you know French philosophers. You know French and you know philosophy so you would know the combination of the two."

"It's fine," I chuckled. "But what about you? What do you study?"

"Philosophy major and Econ minor," Isaiah answered.

"Oh, like Keynes and Hayek?" I honestly knew nothing and figured I would name drop those two, hoping it would be enough.

"Yeah, exactly— a cutie with a brain. I like that," Isaiah flirted.

I laughed off his compliment. "So Econ, huh? That's the business school. You wouldn't happen to know Lennox?"

"Yeah," Isaiah nodded. "He was in my cohort last year—cool dude, why?"

"Oh, he's my roommate."

"Oh wow, that's hilarious! Someone told me that some of your standup is about this obnoxious, off-the-wall roommate. I would've never thought it was about him."

"Yeah," I laughed. "He's the one but don't say anything. I don't think people know he's my roommate and if they do, then they haven't put two and two together."

"No problem, your secret is safe with me." Isaiah answered.

"So where are we going? It seems like we're getting farther from campus."

"Au contraire, mon ami. We're actually just taking the scenic route but here we are."

We stopped in front of a dark building. It looked almost industrial with its clean lines. There was a large window with a painting on display— did he take me to a museum? It was a strange place to be at nearly midnight.

Isaiah noticed my apprehension and offered up an explanation. "Don't worry, I'm not a woman-hating serial killer. It's an arts center: I volunteer here with middle and elementary school kids. After school, they come here to be creative and wait for their parents to pick them up. Have you ever done a paint and sip class?"

I shook my head slowly, unsure if he was talking about the classes where you drink and paint.

"Tipsy paint? Brush and booze?"

That is what he was talking about.

"Yeah, no, I haven't," I answered.

"Perfect, because I have a private lesson already set up for you," he said motioning to the door. "Basically, there's wine and food and art supplies inside."

Sold!

I smiled and began to walk up the door. "So what are we waiting out here for?"

It was 2AM when we finished. We left our canvasses in the art room to dry since Isaiah would be back there on Monday. I drew a crescent moon and he attempted a rendition of Van Goh's "Starry Night." He reassured me that he can't actually paint but that it was just luck that made his painting come out so well. Normally, his kids are painting simple so he can help pretty easily without being a painter while the middle school kids never want help at all. Isaiah explained that he had to do volunteer hours in order to go on this service trip freshman year so he found this place, loved working with the kids and the staff, and kept coming back. He told me a story of his this little girl introduced him as her brother to he actual brother! She wanted her two brothers to officially meet because if they were brother to her then they were brothers to each other.

With a couple bottles of wine and amazing snacks in me, we cleaned up and went back to campus. The paint dyed my cuticles but my date had left his own mark on me. When we we got back, Isaiah told me he lived off campus but further down the main road so once we got to my street, we parted ways. It was fine with me. There was no need for him to walk down the street just to my door— I was practically home anyway.

I tiptoed into the apartment so I wouldn't disturb Lennox. He wasn't in the living room when I came in but the light to his bedroom was on. I went into the kitchen to quickly grab some water before I went into my room. In my hurry, I accidentally dropped the glass onto the floor. Thankfully, it broke in large pieces and I wasn't cut. However, Lennox didn't emerge from his room at the sound of the clamor. I sighed and figured that he simply must not have cared— someone could be breaking in for all he knew.

I cleaned up the glass, grabbed the water, and retreated to my room. Once in bed, I mindlessly scrolled on Instagram. Ah, apparently, The Cellar really took off once I left. Mimi posted a photo of Mosh and Tara kissing— his hands were around her waist and her arms wrapped around his neck. You could see Tara's smile and the caption read, "Finally 😍😍😍." I tapped away on my screen to get to Greg's story, which  included some heavy head banging, fist bumping, a lot of jumping, and "Mr. Brightside" blasting in the background. Lennox's story buffered and opened next. It was a shaky video of him doing a body shot off of a busty blonde— he licked the salt off her abdomen, downed the liquor in the shot glass that balanced on her chest, and brought his mouth to hers to take the lime wedge.

I tapped the screen. A selfie was up next— he wore his trademark charismatic, boyish grin as she kissed him on the cheek. I felt a pang in my chest and my face grow warm.

Whatever.

I locked my phone and turned over to go to bed. I had an amazing date with Isaiah. What, or who, Lennox did not matter and was no concern to me. I sighed and gave in to the Sandman, letting sleep wash over me.