Chapter 6: Capturing The Perfect Moment

At work the next day, Thomas was glad for the sun. Early summer heat brought more customers to the little farm restaurant and the constant orders kept Thomas, the chef, on his feet without a lot of time to think. The only problem was that every time he caught a glimpse of long dark hair he would stop, heart pounding. It almost always turned out to be pale-faced women. Always in the back of his mind was Sera's face, Sera's voice. Thomas felt like he was being haunted. He neglected to mention to anyone at work how his week had been and by the time the afternoon and the end of food service rolled around the secondary chef and sometimes waiter Chris had picked him up on it. The two boys were taking the compost out, combining the job with feeding the ducks and taking an apple or two to the shire Banjo when the brown haired, brown eyed boy with the cheeky smile asked Thomas what had been going on with him lately. Thomas fielded the question.

"Oh not a lot. Just college y'know." Chris looked sceptical.

"So why are ya lookin' over yer shoulder all the time and muttering away?"

"Just..." Thomas couldn't make it much further than that as the pair of them tipped up the compost bin and the chickens approached to peck at the scraps.

"You've got some girl haven't ya?" Chris said slyly jabbing him in the ribs with an elbow. Thomas only nodded with a wordless sound. The questions poured out. "Who is she? Anyone I know? What's she like? Any good?"

Thomas glared at his co-worker.

"Not saying." He stated stubbornly and went back inside. Chris didn't cease to pester him for the rest of the day.

Thomas got home at six and fell asleep on his bed. It didn't matter that he'd missed dinner, working all day with food made him feel like retching at the sight of tea anyway. He woke at eight and checked his email, grabbed a long drink and a film and spent the rest of the evening watching Fight Club.

Monday morning dawned depressingly sunny and bright and college loomed in the future like a great black storm cloud. Thomas found himself longing for a blast of cold weather just so he had an excuse to wear more clothes. Not that he figured Sera would have much trouble removing him from whatever he wore. So he settled for a shower, a pair of blue jeans, sandals and a loose white cheesecloth shirt with an open neck. He material brought out the tan he'd acquired in the last few days and made his skin seemed darker.

Thomas had two lessons and lunch to get through before he was supposed to go to the art rooms. English was first but Sera was nowhere to be seen, Thomas began to wonder if maybe the other boy wasn't in. At lunch he hid from his friends, feeling way out of the social loop and went to eat his sandwiches on the grass outside the languages building. He saw a few foreign students that he knew, but no one stopped to chat long, which suited him just fine. History was, as always, interminable, and it was made more so by the wondering of whether or not Sera was actually going to show up.

Finally two o'clock appeared out of the mists of time and Thomas found himself standing just inside the door of the art block. He always felt odd and out of place here, amongst the bustle of the art students. For the most part they dressed outlandishly, most of them recognisable as artists by the fact that hands and arms were constantly paint smeared. There were the photographers as well, blinking in the light as they emerged from the heavy air of the dark room, smelling of developing fluid. Thomas, with his slim rucksack and his English folder under one arm felt like a total stranger. To him, these people who talked in terms of composition and qualities of light and experimentation came from a different planet altogether. It was rather hard to believe that sultry, sexy, beautiful Sera was one of them.

But he turned up, emerging with a class from one of the large art rooms. He was dressed in a pair of black denim shorts and a paint splotched grey t-shirt with only one sleeve. What surprised Thomas most was to see his companion's hair tied back, with only a few short strands flicking around his face which he pushed back constantly. Thomas angered himself to feel a flash of jealous as he watch Sera talking with one or two of his classmates, an easy innocent smile on his face. Thomas had never been witness to such a gesture from him. As Sera spotted him he bade his friends goodbye and gestured Thomas to follow him, which he did. The taller boy lead him into a big studio and then through a door to a smaller room. This was obviously a private studio. The little whitewashed square room hand been set up with an easel and a rough camp bed that could also be used as a sofa. There was a heap of various blankets and pillows heaped upon it. The room smelt of paint and Thomas saw two stools, one was bare, the other was being used as a makeshift table, topped with various brushed and inks and other art materials. Large pots of acrylic paint stood around the base of the stool. Sera shut the door behind them and dropped the dead bolt.

"I've got the room booked," he said while going to his easel and attaching a sheet of white cartridge paper to the drawing board with masking tape, "We won't be disturbed until six. Strip." The last word was a lazy sort of order and Thomas just stared at him blankly. When Sera looked up again he scowled. "I said strip." He repeated, "Or are we being slow today?"

"What are we doing?" Sera looked at him with surprised eyes.

"Oh, we are being slow today. In case you hadn't realised by our surroundings, you are posing and I am drawing you."

Thomas glared at him.

"What makes you think I'm posing for you?"

"You do everything else I tell you to," Sera said in an offhand way, searching through his pencil box for the appropriate tools, "Now strip."