Koby wasn’t sure if he was reassured or dismayed to find that Hidden Creek Community College hadn’t really changed at all in the past eight years. He stood with his hands around the strap of his satchel bag, looking up at the dreary, gray art department building, squinting in the sunlight. Well, there was no sense in dawdling.

“Which way is it?” Matt asked.

Koby smiled and looked over his shoulder at his friends’ boyfriends. They had very kindly agreed to lend him their muscles and be his moving men for the day. Between Matt and Ryan, they were carefully carrying the crate where Koby had packed up what he had of his sculpture so far. He’d done all he could back at his apartment. Now it was time to move the operation to H Triple C where they wouldn’t have to transport the finished piece far for the opening ceremony.

“Thanks, guys,” Koby said warmly. “It’s this way. Do you want to follow me?”

He was happy for Gabe and Cas to have met such nice men. Koby had to say he didn’t have many preferences when looking for a sexual partner. Gender, hair color and race were all pretty inconsequential to him if the person was kind and funny. He was a sucker for an open smile and sparkling eyes.

But as a rule, he stayed away from big, ‘manly’ dudes. He found that guys like that were too macho for his liking. Plus, his personal history gave him more than enough reason to avoid jock types like that. He wasn’t interested in people who made him feel unsafe.

He was happy to be proved wrong by Matt and Ryan.

The guys joked and chatted between them as they followed Koby, leaving him to his thoughts as they passed through the door that would take them into the belly of the art department. Koby was surprised to recognize the same pictures still framed on the walls as had been there in his day. Not that he expected H Triple C to take down the portrait of the founder of the department, Albert Wooten, or any of his still lifes. But they’d been hanging there for thirty years now. The frames were dusty and tired looking, and the paintings had faded despite the protective glass.

Why hadn’t any new work been put up? It made Koby sad. He’d assumed that with someone else in charge of the department there might have been at least a little more celebration going on in these classrooms. But as he entered the workroom (which smelled exactly the same as he remembered), his hopes dipped again.

He saw chipped and paint-covered tables that hadn’t been replaced since he’d left. Broken easels, rusty pottery wheels and colored sheets of paper stored haphazardly. Unwashed brushes and broken chunks of charcoal discarded in open tins. A dusty, paint-flecked radio from the nineties played Christmas music from the windowsill. Someone had made an attempt to hang limp tinsel around some of the shelves.

Koby blinked and took it all in. “Oh dear,” he said faintly. He rubbed his chest over his heart, as if there were little cracks forming in it. He’d remembered this place being a bit of an unloved mess.

He didn’t think it would be a dump.

There were a few students sitting around the desks who looked up as Koby entered. There was an older guy in a pristine cream shirt working on a watercolor in the corner. He peered at Koby over his glasses, then went back to lightly dabbing his paper with a fine brush. A young Asian woman with bushy hair in a ponytail pulled her pencil drawing closer to her chest, looking at Koby with wide, suspicious eyes. A Black guy about the same age took his headphones from his ears and put down the stylus pen from where he’d been working on a tablet. A tired-looking White woman with mousy brown hair blinked and rested her hands on the keyboard of her laptop. Under the table she was working at sat a young boy of maybe three or four wearing a pink tutu over his jeans, playing with a Barbie doll.

Koby looked at them all looking at him, hearing Matt and Ryan place the crate down behind him with grunts and shuffling feet.

“Hi!” Koby blurted out, awkwardly raising a hand. “I’m Koby. I’m going to be using this space to work over the next few weeks in the run up to the holidays. I hope that’s okay with y’all? Has anyone mentioned anything to you or have I just barged in uninvited?”

The students just sort of glanced at one another, but the little boy got out from under the desk, gaping at Koby with an open mouth. “I like your skirt,” he said, swinging the Barbie back and forth, making her hair swish.

Koby smiled down at him. His speech was more advanced than Koby would have expected. Maybe he was small for his age.

“It’s a kilt.” He held the edge out for the boy to see the vegan leather pleats. “I like your skirt, too.”

The boy’s face lit up and he spun in a circle. “Thank you! It’s a tutu!” he proclaimed. “Like a ballerina!”

Koby glanced up at the woman who he assumed to be the kid’s mom, intending to share an affectionate smile with her. But instead she looked distressed, embarrassed even. Then the door opened behind Koby again and she looked even more startled, jumping up to usher the boy back to her desk.

“Come on now,” she whispered urgently. “Time to get changed. Be a good boy.”

Koby frowned and glanced to Ryan by his side, who had raised an eyebrow. But someone else spoke instead.

“Oh, you’re already here,” an unfortunately familiar voice drawled.

Koby turned to see Assistant Dean Reuben Galloway walking into the workroom in a pristine light gray-pinstriped suit and a barely concealed curled lip as he looked around at the mess. He had two people flanking his sides. To his left was a timid-looking woman with wispy blonde hair and eyes like a nervous owl. To his right was a man who was hard to miss.

Vince Russo was six and a half foot tall, Koby estimated, with thick, dark hair parted to the side and a jaw like a Disney prince. His broad shoulders and biceps strained against the crisp white shirt he had on. The top button was undone, revealing the dip in his throat and a hint of dark chest hair. He looked surprised by the workroom, turning his head up and around, taking it all in with raised eyebrows.

“I thought it’d be more like an art gallery,” he said in a deep rumble with an easy laugh. “I guess that’s kind of dumb, huh?”

“Not really,” Koby answered without thinking. He, Ryan and Matt had turned around to face the newcomers. “A lot of people don’t consider the creative process behind the finished art.”

Russo met Koby’s gaze and blinked. Then he smiled. Koby’s heart couldn’t help but flip. That smile sold cars and aftershave and healthcare supplements, after all. Koby was bound to find it appealing.

“Oh, hey.” Russo nodded and reached out his plate-sized hand. “Koby Duvall, right? We went to school together.”

Koby paused for a second. It wasn’t like he knew Russo back in the day, but he thought he’d gotten a pretty good impression of Mr. Popular at the time. He hadn’t expected him to remember Koby’s name…although he most likely hadn’t. He’d probably been reminded from the emails about the sculpture. But more surprising was the implication that Koby might not remember him. Like he wasn’t one of Hidden Creek’s biggest sports stars.

Koby extended his own, smaller hand and shook once with Russo. His skin was warm and surprisingly soft. “I remember.” Koby felt his mouth curve into an amused half smile. As much as he found Russo’s size intimidating, he wasn’t giving off big bully jock vibes. He seemed genuinely interested in Koby and the workroom.

“Mr. Duvall,” Galloway said with a humorless smile. “May I introduce Miss Cecily Salt. She’s the head of the department and the one who kindly let you set up shop here.” He glanced around the mostly empty room and huffed a laugh. “Not that it’s exactly busy in here, now is it?”

He was a slim man in his late forties with graying blond hair. In Koby’s day, he’d taught computer science and was always angling for his department to get the latest software while Koby’s teachers had struggled to provide him and his classmates with enough paper to work on. Although Old Gallows had gotten himself promoted to assistant dean, it didn’t look like his opinions on the arts had changed all that much.

Koby smiled politely at the guy who was going to be signing his check and instead turned his attention to Cecily Salt. She looked afraid that he was going to bark at her or something, so he took one of her hands in both of his and beamed at her.

“It’s such a pleasure to be back.” Koby bent the truth just a little. “Thank you so much for allowing me to complete my project here. I’ll do my very best not to disturb you and your students.”

A harrumph came from the corner where the older guy was painting, but he didn’t look over at them.

“Look, Zane,” the young woman said to the little boy. She was crouching down with him and looking up at the group by the door in awe. “That’s Vinny Russo. Do you want to go say hi?”

Koby realized she had taken the tutu off him as well as the Barbie. He tried not to frown, but that didn’t sit right with him.

“Hi, Mr. Russo!” The boy, Zane, was still happy enough. “My daddy said you hit your head real bad making a stupid-ass play, and now you don’t play football no more.”

“Zane!” The woman was clearly mortified.

But Russo smiled and shook his head. “It’s no trouble at all, ma’am,” he said. “That’s right, Zane. I hurt my head, but I’ve got some great doctors, so I’m feeling much better already. Tell your daddy I’ll be playing ball again in no time.”

“And it wasn’t really a stupid play,” Ryan said gently, winking at Zane. “Mr. Russo here protected our quarterback from what was going to be a dirty hit. He was a hero!”

Zane gasped and looked at Russo with renewed enthusiasm while Ryan and Matt introduced themselves. Apparently Ryan had briefly been on the Bears team with Russo back at school, so they sort of remembered each other. Koby watched the big sports star smiling easily at them and making good eye contact, including Cecily in their small talk.

Curiouser and curiouser, Koby thought to himself. Perhaps there was more to Vince Russo than he’d previously thought.

Galloway evidently got impatient at having to waste his time in a department he never bothered to conceal his contempt for. “Right, so.” He gave Koby’s crate a swift kick. “I’m guessing this is it?”

“Careful!” Matt cried, a look of horror on his face. “That’s fragile.”

Galloway slid his gaze to Koby and raised an eyebrow. “Sorry.” He barely contained his smirk.

Koby regarded him for a moment, then smiled. “It’s well packed,” he said calmly. “No harm done, I’m sure.”

“K-Koby, dear.” Cecily brushed her flyaway hair back as she looked between him and the crate. “Would you like t-t-to get set up in here? I can make you some coffee or iced t-tea? Then we can let the g-g-g…” She paused and took a slow breath. “Gentlemen head on their way.”

“Yes, I do really have to be going.” Galloway checked his watch. He shook hands with Russo, ignoring everyone else. “It’s a real honor to have you back, sir.” He sounded like he was greeting a vet home from a tour of duty. “If you need anything, just let me know.”

“I think I’ll stay for iced tea. If that’s all right, ma’am?” he asked Cecily. She raised her eyebrows and nodded. Then Russo looked at Koby. “Maybe, uh, I could see how the statue’s coming along?”

It was tempting to feel like Russo was interested in seeing Koby’s art, rather than a vain interest in how his sculpture looked. But then, Russo had surprised Koby a couple of times already that afternoon. Maybe he did have a genuine interest in art.

“Of course.” Koby glanced at Cecily. “Mr. Galloway informed me I was okay to stay on late in the evenings to work. I have a key. Is that okay with you and your students?”

He and Cecily looked back at the four people who had been watching, aside from the old guy in the corner, who was still stubbornly painting. The Asian girl looked mildly perplexed by everything going on, while the Black guy’s mouth was hanging open as he stared unabashedly at Russo. The mom was sitting back down at her desk with Zane in her lap, looking anxious.

“Uh, sure,” Cecily said.

“Great.” Koby nodded at Russo. “If you want to take a look at what I’ve got so far, you can also do a bit of modeling for me, too?”

“If that’s okay?” Russo looked at Galloway.

Galloway looked like he couldn’t care less, but grimaced a smile anyway. “Knock yourself out.” He clapped Russo on the arm. “I’ll catch you later.”

He didn’t bother saying goodbye to anyone else as he walked out of the room.

“We better be going, as well,” Matt said to Koby. “But it was lovely to meet y’all.” He shook hands with Cecily and Russo, as did Ryan, waved at the other students, then they too headed for the door.

“Coffee,” Cecily said as if she’d forgotten.

“Oh, none for me, thanks,” Koby said. “Unless you’ve got breakfast tea and almond milk?”

Cecily looked distressed. “I don’t think so,” she said as she picked at the edge of her fingernails. “I might have half and half?”

Koby smiled and shook his head. “Please don’t worry, I’m fine. Mr. Russo, iced tea?”

“Only if it’s no trouble, ma’am,” he said to Cecily. She looked thrilled she was able to accommodate at least one of them.

“I’ll be right b-back,” she said happily. She spun on her heels and dashed through a door that looked like it led to her office.

Koby turned to face Russo, smiling in what he hoped was an easygoing way. “I guess it’s just us, then.”

Russo looked at Koby for a second, then appeared to snap out of his little reverie and nodded. “Sounds good. And it’s Vince, please.”

The rest of the class had gone back to their own work and seemed to be studiously ignoring the newcomers. Koby hoped they would warm to him soon.

In the meantime, he gestured to the crate, delighted when Vince ripped the top off with almost no effort at all. As long as he kept his distance, Koby didn’t mind him putting his strength to good use.

The students were wary and Old Gallows was still a dick. But Koby was genuinely surprised by the good vibes he was getting from Vince Russo. He had to admit that perhaps this job wasn’t going to be as bad as he’d feared.