But I can’t put it out of my mind.
I walk out onto the street and the rain has turned into a slow drizzle. I make my way to the unmarked door and punch in the code Chase gave me on the tiny keypad, shoving it open.
Inside, the rain patters quietly along the windows.
There are multiple rooms, which I assume are all rented by various other artists. All of them are artist studios, and some of the doors are left open, revealing what different people are working on. There’s a room full of beautiful ceramic pots. Another one with paintings of cityscapes. There’s one with copper sculptures, and one with inexplicable paper mobiles all hanging from the ceiling.
At the end of the hall, there’s a dark, narrow staircase, and I hear someone coming down.
“Hey,” Chase says as he appears, and I feel something spark in my chest as I see him smile at me.
He looks incredible.
He put on a black long-sleeve and nice-looking slacks with a belt, and he’s wearing dark-rimmed glasses that I’ve never seen on him before. There’s a camera slung over one of his shoulders, and as he pushes his hair back, I’ve never seen him so clearlyin his elementbefore.
“Wow,” I say softly.
“The upstairs hallway has some projects in it right now,” he says, reaching out to grab my hand. “Here. My studio is at the end of the second floor. Careful, because there are some glass sculptures at the top of the landing. None of the other people are in right now.”
He leads me up the stairs and I dimly register that there’s no realreasonhe needs to be holding my hand, but I’m happy that he does.
The second floor is just as narrow as the first, but there areskylights and taller ceilings, which make it seem much more airy. Gentle rain falls now along all of the glass, and I feel like I’m in some sort of quiet, magic dome.
His studio is at the end of the hall.
We walk through the door and it’s like I’m transported into a different place.
“I feel like I just walked inside your mind,” I tell him.
He smiles. “It’s a clusterfuck. But it’smyclusterfuck. I know where everything is, even if it doesn’t look like it.”
The space is a riot of color.
Every surface and wall has some of Chase’s projects on it, all of which seem to be more neon than the last. His art is also more impressive in person than in the pictures. Every painting is thick with texture, and some of them almost have a 3D quality to them, with paint rising from the surface like geologic landscapes.
“I’ve seen this studio on your Instagram page so many times, and now I’m finally here.”
He ruffles his hair with his hands. “It’s not much, but for New York, it’s what I can afford.”
“It’s incredible, Chase. It looks even bigger in person.”
His videos don’t quite capture how nice the skylights look overhead, either. Chase has both of the paned windows open wide right now, and the last remnants of the rainclouds are moving off quickly.
As the clouds pass, a sudden light fills the space along with a gust of fresh air.
Chase gently closes the front door. It’s not much bigger than a bedroom, but it’s not the microscopic closet that Chase made it out to be. Along one wall he has all of his supplies on a table, paints and cleaners and various brushes. The rest of the space is full of paintings, some drawings, and some photos.
“Okay. I want you to pose for me a bit so that we can get a sense for where the best light will be,” Chase says.
“Can you kiss me first?”
He bites his lower lip, taking a step toward me.
He closes the gap between us, clutching at my shirt. “You need that from me?”
“Desperately, Chase.”
“Fuck, you’re amazing,” he utters as he leans in and puts his lips on mine. He kisses me firmly, openly, letting his tongue linger on mine before sucking on my lower lip.
