XPLR | Colby Brock

~128~

"You sure you've got it?" Logan asked. "Yes. I know what I'm doing," I said, chuckling as I did one last mirror check, examining what I was wearing. I wasn't wearing anything too crazy, just jeans with some boots, and a sweater covered by my coat. I didn't wear anything on my head, but my short hair was pulled up at the base of my skull.

Life changes all the time. We know that much. Which is what makes it so scary. For most people, life changing moments pass by without a warning, and they don't even realize it did until later on in their lives. Which is what makes it so scary. But for those of us who catch those moments, utilize, and remember them, we can get that experience of knowing our life is changing, and hopefully for the better.

In my case, it's changing for the better.

I finished off the little breakfast I had, a muffin and a coffee Logan brought by on his way to work. He made sure to pop quiz me on what to do. He was nervous, and so was I, and both of us for the same reason. It's my first day in Manhattan by myself. For the most part, before today, I had no reason to go to Manhattan without Logan, so I didn't. Washington Heights was my own little safe haven, I could navigate these blocks by myself. It was much easier than Los Angeles when I first got there, but Manhattan? I wasn't sure how to handle that. There were so many people with so many agendas, I was afraid of getting washed away in the tide.

"Don't be afraid to ask for help if you need it," Logan warned me. "Logan. I'll be fine," I said, chuckling.

This is my first Monday of classes. I start at the school in every musician's dream today: Juilliard School in Lincoln Plaza, right next to the New York Philharmonic and the Ballet.

I'll go see a performance there one day.

He chuckled, "Right. I know. I'm just so proud, you're all grown up," he said, mocking a sad voice. I laughed. "Alright. Well, I'm leaving. I have a lot of people to meet today," I said. "Call me if you need me," Logan said nonchalantly. "I will. See you tonight," I said. I didn't have any plans, but I figured that we would meet. We have every night, barely missing any beats.

I leaned into the mirror, and I quickly wiped my pinky finger below my lip line to get a bit of smudged lipstick off. I looked towards a framed picture of Mom I had sitting on my desk, and I said, "Okay, Momma. This is it. Juilliard!" I said, lifting up the frame. It was a picture of me and my mother outside of my old high school auditorium. I had a soloist position as an eighth grader, and I was wearing a black dress that was much too long for me, but I still gleamed. My mother gleamed as well, with pride. But I was only happy that my mom was there to see me perform.

I placed it back down, grabbed my backpack and put it on my back. I walked towards the door. I plugged in my earbuds as I walked, heading towards the stairs at the end of the hallway. Just as I was leaving, another guy stepped out of his apartment. I haven't met many of my neighbors, besides and old woman who needed help carrying some groceries up the stairs. I've seen this guy around though. He was attractive and young, but I hadn't seen much of him. When I did, though, he was always entering his apartment with a new boyfriend of his, and the boyfriend would leave the next morning, alone.

He stared at me for a second, up and down, and that caught me off guard. Something about him told me he was confident. "What?" I asked, quietly. I half expected him not to hear me, but he did. He nodded towards the top of my sweater. "Nothing. I just would've worn a bralette with that, not have just gone without one," He said. I breathed a sigh of relief at that. "Oh. Well. I don't have many bralettes," I said.

"Your makeup looks amazing, by the way. Are you a makeup artist?" he asked as he started to walk down the hallway, nodding for me to follow him. "No, I'm not. I just learned how to get good at it for my friend's YouTube channel a few years ago," I said, "I'm a pianist."

He smiled. "Ooo. Piano. I like it," he grinned. His eyes still looked me up and down, not like he was checking me out, more like he was examining me. "What's your name again?" he asked. "Rose," I said. "I don't think we've traded names."

"We haven't," he said. "My name's Alan."

Alan was attractive, that's for sure. If I didn't know he was gay, I probably would be swooning. No, his homosexuality adds a little buffer for that. He had shoulder length black hair and striking green eyes, framed by square glasses. He had dark skin, obviously with African-American heritage. He had broad shoulders and a smile that could make you melt. I found myself jealous of his boyfriend all of a sudden. "It's nice to meet you," I said, "but can I ask you what's with the elevator eyes?"

"I was just thinking about how good of a model you could make. Speaking of. Weren't you and your boyfriend talking about you needing clothes or something in the hallway once? I overheard you two," Alan said, just as we stepped out onto the street of Washington Heights. "Yeah. My airplane lost my luggage," I said, "I've been in need of some clothes. I'm going to go shopping once I get my first paycheck," I said.

He thought for a moment. "Tell you what. I'll make a deal with you," he said. I raised my eyebrow. "What kind of deal?" I asked.

He flipped his hair to one side and looked down at me, then said, "I'm a clothing designer. If you model some of my clothes, I'll let you keep them instead of paying you."

I thought for a moment. What good luck I'm having lately...

I'll be busy all the time with two jobs and school and Logan. I should decline.

But it could be fun!

It could be.

Go for it, Rose.

You might as well. He's your neighbor. I'm sure you could find some time to model for him.

Plus, some new clothes...

Come on, Rose. Fuck it. Enjoy yourself!

No...

Fuck it. Come on! You're in New York City! You don't have any family, no boyfriend, no anything. You're on your own, you do what you want!

I like that attitude.

"Sure. That sounds great," I said, "Thank you."

Thank you.