“Nothing,” I said. “Something dumb.”

SoBlue: who was that?

Fuck. “What?”

SoBlue: i heard a voice. not yours.

“Really. And what do you think you heard her say?”

SoBlue: things that didn’t sound very legal.

“No idea what you’re talking about. But I need to log off now, Blue. Thanks for—”

SoBlue: that was her.

SoBlue: my archnemesis.

SoBlue: red.

I had to laugh. “She can’t be your archnemesis, Mr. Superhero. She doesn’t even know you exist.”

SoBlue: you never mentioned me to her?

“You’re my little secret.”

SoBlue: not sure how i feel about that.

SoBlue: but you can tell her about me.

SoBlue: it’s only fair, now that i’ve seen her naked.

I made a face. “Those were artistic nudes. There was no frontal.”

SoBlue: they felt intimate.

SoBlue: private.

SoBlue: the way you look at her . . .

SoBlue: it’s not something anyone else was meant to see.

“Well then, welcome to our sordid little relationship. Want to be the third point in a completely twisted love triangle?”

SoBlue: i’ll think about it.

SoBlue: morgan.

“Blue.”

SoBlue: your art is excellent.

SoBlue: not just technically, but stylistically.

SoBlue: you have such panache, and you’re still so young.

SoBlue: it’s raw talent.

I waved a hand in dismissal, but his words set off a small thermonuclear blast in my chest.

SoBlue: you’re gifted.

SoBlue: life threw you into the race miles ahead of everyone.

SoBlue: you never struggled to be competent.

SoBlue: you got a head start so you could be a pioneer.

SoBlue: you’re special.

SoBlue: and you know all of this already.

“Look, if you’re going to tell me I’m still an artist even though I can’t make art—”

SoBlue: no.

SoBlue: but an artist makes art however she can.

SoBlue: have you read charles bukowski?

“I’ve heard of him.”

SoBlue: he has a poem, “air and light and time and space.”

SoBlue: about a young artist who’s simplified his life.

SoBlue: sold his house, bought a studio with great natural light.

SoBlue: and now he’s ready to Create.

SoBlue: with a capital C.

SoBlue: (see? i’m not allergic to the shift key.)

“Still a hipster. Liking Bukowski confirms it.”

SoBlue: i’ll let that slide.

SoBlue: so, charles says, art doesn’t work that way.

SoBlue: if you’re going to Create, you’ll do it no matter what.

SoBlue: you don’t need the studio. you don’t need natural light.

SoBlue: you’ll do it while you’re chipping away in a coal mine.

SoBlue: you’ll do it as a single mother on welfare.

SoBlue: you’ll do it with half your body blown away.

SoBlue: you’ll do it because you can’t not do it.

SoBlue: the studio isn’t really a studio.

SoBlue: it’s the idea of readiness.

SoBlue: of preparedness.

SoBlue: it’s an illusion.

In my cam I could see my frown, the reflexive resistance to what he was saying.

It has to be real, Ellis had said. And you’re not ready.

I felt perpetually unready for my life.

Maybe that was the trick: accepting that readiness wasn’t real, wasn’t ever going to happen, and living anyway.

SoBlue: something changed tonight.

SoBlue: you showed me a piece of your true self.

SoBlue: i want to show you who i am, too.

My heart played a glitchy beat in my chest. “Send me a pic, Blue. I want to see you.”

SoBlue: it’ll change things.

SoBlue: right now you see me in a pure way.

SoBlue: no preconceptions.

“Show me something. Some part of you. God, send me a fucking dick pic if you want, I don’t care. I just want to see you.” I stared into the tiny cam lens. “I showed you my real self tonight. Show me you’re real, too.”

SoBlue: those eyes, morgan.

SoBlue: i can’t say no to those eyes.

SoBlue: all right. one sec.

Calm the fuck down, heart. This could be anything. This could be a massive letdown. Maybe there’s something that’ll ruin it, maybe he’s older than your dad, maybe he’s Max, maybe—

A photo popped on-screen: a table covered with small wooden figurines. Carved animals. Striped tomcat, pop-eyed frog, pig with a curly tail made from a single wispy wood shaving.

“What is this?” I said.

SoBlue: something real.

Another photo popped up, with more animals: pony, owl, rabbit. All chibi style, round-bodied and doe-eyed.

“Blue,” I said, my voice dangerously saccharine, “these are painfully cute.”

More photos followed, figurines in various stages of whittling. A whole menagerie.

“This is so fucking adorable. Shit, you’re good. You have a sweet side. The cuteness is killing me.”

Then I went still.

His hands.

In the final photo, he held a hunk of wood in one palm, a Buck knife in the other. Fair skin, braids of blue veins cording in his wrists. Long slim fingers, elegant and strong. Beautiful hands.

“Holy shit,” I breathed. “Hi.”

SoBlue: hi.

SoBlue: i’m real.

I ran a fingertip across his palm, ridiculously, before I remembered he could see me. Then I clicked SAVE IMAGE AS.

SoBlue: are you saving that?

“What do you think?”

SoBlue: i think you’re going to get off to it later.

“Good guess, Freud.” I glanced at the clock, remembering Elle waiting downstairs. “Shit. Blue, I have to go. I’ll be back.”

SoBlue: listen.

SoBlue: before you leave.

SoBlue: there’s something i’ve been thinking about.

“Tell me.”

SoBlue: i’m getting attached to you, morgan.

He’d said silly shit about love before, just like a hundred other guys, but this time felt different. It felt real.

“Guess what, Blue? I’m getting attached to you, too.”

SoBlue: when we talk, i feel . . .

SoBlue: awake.

SoBlue: aware of the blood in my veins.

SoBlue: the breath in my lungs.

SoBlue: as if i was dead before.

SoBlue: it’s all i look forward to anymore.

SoBlue: these pieces of you.

SoBlue: and it maddens me, to think of sharing them with anyone else.

“If you mean Red, she’s not up for discussion.”

SoBlue: not her.

SoBlue: we can share.

SoBlue: but the others have to go.

“What?”

SoBlue: i’ll pay the same amount every night.

SoBlue: and you can do whatever you like.

SoBlue: spend your time as you wish.

SoBlue: on one condition.

I knew what it was, but still I said, “What condition?”

SoBlue: you don’t cam for anyone else.

SoBlue: only me.

When I went downstairs, the dining room was empty. On a napkin, Elle’s neat, angular handwriting:

I’m tired. Let’s meet tomorrow. Sorry again.

Great. Now I didn’t have Red or Blue.

I returned to my room and aimlessly browsed erotic Tumblrs, black-and-white photos with the heads and faces cropped. Skinny arms and lean torsos, grasping hands. Anonymous. Genderless. Desire reduced to its most elemental lines. My mind wandered.

I browsed my messages on social media.

we miss u bb

are you doing a show tonight?

I slung a tie around my neck and took some selfies, classed them up in Photoshop, but then I thought:

you don’t cam for anyone else.

I deleted the photos. I crossed and uncrossed my legs. I got up and paced.

Finally I opened a new tab and joined Ariel’s chat room.

She sprawled on her bed in bikini bottoms and striped knee socks, one hand inside her panties. Her glasses were white mirrors reflecting her laptop. She smiled lazily.

“Hello, Sweet. Nice to see you again.”

sweet_ophelia has tipped Ariel 100 tokens.

Dahlz: Thank you for tipping.

young_rae-z: ass kisser

Dahlz: Pretty sure we’d all love to kiss her ass.